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I smile. “I’ll order one.”
An hour later, the pizza sits on the coffee table, and Diego, freshly showered, looks like every woman’s fantasy come to life sitting on my floor in a gray pair of sweats and a black T-shirt.
It’s hard not to stare, but he doesn’t seem to notice or mind. His focus is on his food.
I finish off the last of my pizza, leaving the crust.
Diego leans over, taking the discarded dough from my plate. “Best part,tesoruccio.”
“How do you keep so lean and eat like you do?”
He glances down at his body. “What do you mean?”
My mouth moves into a thin line, and I narrow my eyes.
That makes him laugh. “Genetics. I run a bit when I need to clear my head. I lift weights with Leonardo when he’s not doing my head in.”
“So frustrating.”
“How do you keep a body like yours?”
I laugh loudly. “Sorry?”
I’m not an idiot. I’m thick. Sure, some men find my curves attractive, but most would prefer I lost a good thirty pounds. Something I have no interest in. I’ve learned to love my body, no matter how full it is. It took me some time, but I found my style. I discovered the best way to accentuate my assets. I got over trying to impress men or women a long time ago. I learned early on that I needed to be comfortable with who I was,physicallyand mentally. I knew whatever man I was ordered to marry would likely never love me, so to save myself from the horrifying sentence of loneliness and longing, I found love for myself. I wouldn’t have survived the world I was born into otherwise. Still, I have my insecurities. Diego is a man women drool over, the kind of man who has them readjusting their hair or licking their lips in hopes that it draws his attention. He could walk into any establishment and pick the prettiest girl there, and she’d fall over herself trying to claim him. I love my body, but that doesn’t mean I expected the man I forced into forever to feel the same way.
“Your body keeps me awake at night.”
I remain quiet, unsure of what he’s trying to say.
“It infiltrates my dreams, Sia,” he says quietly.
Dreams, not nightmares.
“You’ve thought about us like that?”
He smiles, and it disarms me completely. His lips stretch, muting their deep color. His white teeth shine in the dim light, his dark eyes creasing at the sides in joy. “Have I thought about fucking you? Oh, Sia.” A slight cough of laughter dances between us, and I want to catch the sound and store it for a time when I’m alone. It vibrates along his vocal cords and stirs a longing between my thighs I have no right to want to claim.
But he doesn’t elaborate, and I’m tempted to move to my knees and beg him to answer me. Did he laugh because it’s absurd I would even consider he would think about me like that, a woman ten years his senior? Or did he laugh because it’s absurd that I don’t know that he does?
I can read almost every man I’ve encountered throughout my working career. Most don’t attempt to hide their disdain or disgust at my position in the hierarchy or their lewd thoughts as I command an audience. The ones that do are easy enough to decipher when you match their energy. They attempt to drown me in disgust, and I drink it like wine, letting it loosen my anxiety and build my confidence. Their desire to see me fail only makes me more determined. But Diego is impossible to read. He’s roguishly reserved, and the simple fact is that I don’t want to intimidate or assert power when I’m with him. I want toknowhim, and I want him towantto know me. He unravels me with his mere presence, and I am completely and utterly out of my depth.
“You didn’t update me on your findings while I was sleeping.” Changing the conversation is the only defense mechanism I have.
It catches him off guard, and a sense of relief settles in my stomach. He stares at me for a beat but then blinks in acceptance.
“As much as they tried to hide it, the three men who were killed arrived in the city with a woman. They didn’t come together, but after diving deeper into the guy whose head you crushed, he’s been spotted with her a lot in their hometown. Boston,” he adds as an afterthought.
“Which means it’s no coincidence that she was in town the same time they were.”
“My thoughts exactly. She left in the early hours of the morningalone. No software I’ve used has been able to identify her, so I don’t have a positive ID. She obviously travels under a fake name, and I also can’t link her to Oisin.Yet.”
His frustration leaks into his words.
“We’ll find her.”
“I’m gonna kill her when we do,” he vows. “She’s sly. I would bet my house on the fact that she orchestrated the events of last night.” His anger grows as his memory pushes back into the forest.
“I’m still in awe that you managed to gut someone with a pocket knife.”
