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“I don’t know, Dom,” I tell him honestly. “I’ll have to cross that bridge when I get to it.” I can’t say anything more than that. Because unless I know what’s behind the closed door, I can’t decide I’ll shut it or keep it open. Deep down, I want it to be nothing. But I doubt it can be.
“Okay,” he says with a sigh. “Send me her details, whatever you have, and I’ll look into it for you.”
Nodding, I respond, “Sure. Thanks, man.”
“Does this mean I’m going to be alone when I head to the club tonight?” he questions, and I can hear him smiling on the other end of the line.
“It does. I’m going to dinner with her. We’re going to attempt to get to know each other, but she just doesn’t know it yet.”
“Man, you know how I always tell you not to stalk the fucking clients,” Dom taunts me, then chuckles when I tell him to fuck off. “Listen, I’m about to dive into a meeting, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“You mean dive into some pussy, or are you actually at the office?”
He laughs out loud before answering, “A gentleman never tells.”
“If you were a gentleman, I’d believe that.” I hang up before he has time to retort, but I know he’ll only get me back for that snarky comment tomorrow.
I head back to my office and settle behind my desk. Pulling up my emails, I type out one to Dom, including all the information I have on Elisabet. I’m sure that Rossi is her real last name, and when I searched earlier, I didn’t find much. It’s as if she’s just appeared out of nowhere. No social media, not even a speeding ticket. Thankfully, I have access to a few websites that allow me to look into clients, but I know this is going to need a professional.
Once I hit send, I check my phone and don’t find a response to my earlier message. Either she’s ignoring me, or perhaps something happened. No. Shaking my head, I hit dial on her number and wait.
“Hello?”
“Why are you ignoring me?” I ask the moment she answers.
“I’m not, Rome. I have things to do. I’m out shopping for the bakery,” she tells me, but she sounds stressed. Her words are strained.
I lean back in my chair, crossing my one ankle over the opposite knee, and say, “Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve come to help you.” The offer hangs between us for a long moment.
When she answers, her tone is lighter, less anxious. “I’m sorry. I got all my suitcases to the apartment; I even bought a few ingredients for a surprise I have planned.”
“Oh?” Now I’m intrigued.
“I wanted to make something for you,” she says. “I hope you don’t mind.”
I smile. “Sweetheart, the only thing I want is you on your back with that pretty pussy wet for me. Does your surprise involve that?”
“Unless you want to eat dessert from my body, then no.” I can hear the fire, the sass, that’s back in her voice, and I can’t help but calm down. When she’s worried, it sends alarm bells clanging in my head.
“Sounds like fun. I could eat anything off that delectable, curvy body,” I tell her, and the thought alone sends all the blood rushing to my dick.
“You’re insufferable,” she bites out, but there’s a slight giggle that filters through the line, and I can picture her cheeks turning a bright shade of red.
“I know,” I tell her confidently. “It’s why you can’t stop thinking about me inside you.” This time, I chuckle. Teasing her is becoming something of a hobby for me, and I enjoy knowing that she’s squirming for me wherever she is.
“I’m not listening to you anymore. I’m hanging up. See you tonight.” Before I have time to respond, I hear the click on the other end of the line. Little minx hung up on me.
Tonight, I’ll ensure she pays for that.
Chapter 16
Elisabet
It’s almost seven when I finally stop and take notice of the amount of food I made. The kitchen smells like an Italian restaurant with the fragrances that waft around the open-plan room. I smile for a moment, remembering my mother when she used to spend hours making our dinners.
As a little girl, she was the only person I looked up to. I grew up learning from her, falling in love with everything I could create. My father loved her too, and when she died, I know it broke him. He wasn’t the same after that, and I don’t think I was either. I just didn’t notice it at the time.
Over the years, I’ve caught him in our old kitchen, lost in thought, but the moment I walked in, he would put on the strong, serious expression, and tell me about his day. It would never be, I miss her, or, I’m thinking about her. His focus was on the organization, on the men he ruled over, and on the people who owed him something.
