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Bending to scoop up my shoes, I carry them to the closet, glancing coyly over my shoulder as I go. “You really think I was the determining factor?”
“You were,” he states confidently, and from the corner of my eye, I catch him shrugging out of his coat.
I turn my attention to removing my jewelry, setting it gently into the beautiful mahogany box my parents gave me as a sixteenth-birthday present.
“I’ve been trying to crack the mayor’s defenses for going on a year now, but you’re the one who softened the stickler’s heart.”
I smile, letting my affection for the Romney family show on my face to mask the satisfaction of knowing Leo can see my worth. And he’s opening up to me about his desire to get close to the mayor. Definitely a step forward.
A light knock interrupts our conversation, and Leo strides across the room, his shirt halfway unbuttoned to reveal the light smattering of soft dark hair that graces his muscular chest.
“Thank you, Trudy,” he says to the maid, who bustles into the room, a tray of food in hand.
She flushes, keeping her eyes averted as if she can hardly believe he spoke directly to her. For the first time, I notice that he actually calls the staff by their name. Not something I would expect of someone so arrogant. Someone who didn’t want me working in the garden “with the help.”
But she seems affected by it all the same. Our eyes meet as she sets the soup and crackers on the vanity table before me, and I give her a soft smile.
“Thank you.”
“Signora.” Trudy gives the quickest of curtsies before rushing from the room once more.
“So, what kind of meeting did you get with the mayor?” I ask and nibble on a cracker. To my immense relief, it goes down easy, and the churning discomfort subsides a little.
“A meeting about some thoughts I have on the direction of Piovosa’s future,” he says, his hazel eyes gleaming with mischievous enthusiasm. “I think the mayor will find our vision and motivations might align more than he would like to think.”
“And what motivation might that be?” I ask, turning my attention to the broth after finishing off several saltines.
“Progress. We’re in the perfect location for an infrastructure far greater than what we’re utilizing. But we squander the opportunities Piovosa provides, though we’re in the most ideal valley on this side of the Allegheny range. Mayor Romney wants what’s best for the people here, and I want to bring us out of the dark ages.”
It’s the most passionate I’ve seen Leo about anything, and for a moment, I get a glimpse into the fire that drives him, the ambition that leaves him blind to the destruction left in his wake. I could almost admire him for his vision—if it didn’t crush families just like mine along its path.
“And you think you can achieve that by meeting with him?” I ask, keeping my tone light and my thoughts to myself.
“It’s a start.” Leo heads into the bathroom, and I can hear the faucet turn on, him brushing his teeth a moment later.
After the night I’ve had, that sounds wonderful. Quickly drinking the rest of my broth, I head into the bathroom to brush my teeth as well.
Leo and I move around each other in the spacious room as we complete our bedtime routine. And despite the innocuous crossing of paths on occasion, my awareness feels heightened. I’m not used to feeling Leo’s presence.
Since our wedding night, it’s as if Leo’s intentionally not occupied the same space as me. But tonight, he does, sharing it with a strange amiability that makes my nerves tingle. Like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He leaves me to finish my bedtime routine, and I wash my face clean of makeup, then undo the braid in my hair. Taking a deep breath, I look myself in the eye with the mirror. I got a meeting, thanks to your charms. Leo’s words run through my head, and I dare to hope that my efforts might actually be paying off. That I haven’t given up everything in vain.
Heading out into our luxurious suite, I almost come up short at the sight of Leo in nothing but boxer briefs. His broad back is to me, showing off the black-and-white mural tattoo that I’ve only caught glimpses of until now.
It’s moving, emotional. Spreading across the entirety of one shoulder blade and down his spine, it looks like the inner workings of a clock, with multiple cogs of various sizes connecting. Only each one is different, some basic and utilitarian, while others look so delicate, they might as well be made of lace. But what strikes at my heart are the two largest cogs, one a compass, only the arrow that should be indicating north is slightly off center, pointing directly at his heart. The other is the image of a clock face, shattered glass obscuring several of the roman numerals. Scrawling cursive follows the line of his shoulders, and I’m intrigued to find it’s written in Latin. “Tempus non est hostis, sed directionis defectus.” Time is not the enemy, but rather lack of direction.
I can’t quite say why those words make my heart pound. But before I can thoroughly analyze my feelings, Leo turns, revealing his sculpted body and chiseled abs. I blush as he catches me staring, and a slow smile spreads across his lips.
In my mind, I can hear him throwing my words back at me from before dinner, Like anything you see? But he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t have to. Instead, he prowls slowly toward me, his grin cocky and filled with fire.
“Signora Moretti, you look rather overdressed for bed,” he teases, his voice low and soft as he closes the distance between us.
My mind goes blank, though my lips part as if to say something. And before a sound comes out, Leo’s arms wrap around me, pulling me firmly against his strong chest. My heart hammers as he leans in to kiss me.
And as our lips meet, molten excitement floods my belly. Scarcely able to breathe, I lean into him, my heart pounding at the sudden and intense passion in his touch. His tongue strokes into my mouth, and he tastes minty and fresh. He smells even better, the scent of sandalwood, vanilla, and amber swirling around me in a dangerously seductive concoction of masculinity.
His hands trail down the curves of my body, exploring my waist, my hips, gently cupping my ass in his palms. Taking two handfuls of my skirt, he guides it slowly up my legs, undressing me with tantalizing patience.
