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Only, I knew I was kidding myself, both over the glare and the fact that I could get this brat to listen to me. She was currently absorbed in a book she’d found in my library and kept giving me absentminded nods every time I spoke to her.
It had been like this since I’d woken up to an empty bed an hour ago. I’d bolted upright in shock and torn off the blankets, then I’d searched the room and run downstairs where I’d come to an abrupt halt in the kitchen doorway.
Gripping the frame tightly – which, to my surprise, did not crack under my hands – I stared at Lia sitting up on the island, munching on a peanut butter sandwich and flipping through a thick coffee table book on Italian sculpture.
She'd looked up mid-bite and gasped, her face flaming red. At the same moment, I'd realized I was completely naked. Shoving a hand through my hair and muttering in Italian, I'd turned and marched across the room, kissing her hard and then scowling at her sandwich.
“That’s not fuckin’ dinner,” I had growled.
She’d given me a dazed look. “Sorry?”
“Let me get dressed, and I’ll order somethin’,” I’d told her, both annoyed and relieved that I’d given Flora the day off. Even though she’d seen me in various stages of undress since I was a kid, I tried to avoid horrifying my poor housekeeper as much as possible.
After coming back downstairs fully dressed, I’d ordered Italian in. It was this new place a few towns over calledDuomo. We hadn’t tried it yet, but we’d been inundated with flyers proclaiming it was as good as what you could get in the North End.
So, as a Sunday dinner treat, I’d decided to get takeout for the whole house, including the guards and my guys who were here for a meeting. Usually, they were content to eat whatever Flora had prepared or what they brought but every once in a while, I liked to buy them dinner to show my appreciation.
Said gesture had the added benefit of being something that my father would've never done. The first time I'd done it, my guyshad looked stupefied, and I'm sure they weren't the only ones who expected my father's ghost to kick down the door in a fury.
Cheap, miserable bastard that Tommasino was — it was surprising he hadn’t risen from the dead that night.
“You need to eat,” I repeated and tried to shove a plate at Lia again. “Want me to heat this?”
Lia finally stirred and gave me a faint, curving smile. “I promise that I'm fine, Ty.”
“Eh, forget about it. This place, Duomo, is only decent,” Artie spoke up from where he was sitting at the table with Pasquale, Heavy, and a few other guys eating out of black plastic containers with a few pizza boxes scattered around. “Kid isn’t missing anything.”
“Six out of ten,” Heavy added. “The portions are good, but the sauce is too sweet.”
“Tastes better on the pizza,” Pasquale said. “And the cheese isn’t bad. Crust is too doughy, though. It baffles me that they don’t know how long it takes for a damn pie to cook.”
“Why didn’t we just order from Juno’s?” Artie asked.
I rubbed at the middle of my forehead. “Art, you’ve been going to Juno’s for over ten years. You know that shit is closed on Sundays.”
Lia stilled and looked up. “It’s Sunday?” There were nods around the kitchen and, for the first time all day, she looked upset, biting her cheek and setting the book to the side. “So, the fifteenth of the month, that’s tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” I said and moved around the island, taking another bite of pizza and stepping in between her legs. I polished it off and set my hands on her knees. “That a problem?”
“It’s not, no…” Lia wouldn’t meet my gaze, and I tightened my grip.
Her eyes darted to me, then the table of guys, who I knew would had their eyes glued to this byplay because they were a nosy bunch of bastards. But they also wouldn't ever question what I was doing with Lia and for that, I didn't mind their gossiping asses.
She shook her head and tried to give me a bright, bullshit smile. “Forget it.”
“Lia—” I began, but Artie spoke up.
“She’s worried about being late on rent, yougavone,” he said, and I glanced back at Artie with a frown. “What? Did you not ask me to look into it?” Now I made a face. “Rent is due on the first, but there’s a fifteen-day grace period, which is up tomorrow.”
“How much?” I asked.
“I think it was around a grand or so,” Artie said. “I can double-check. Oh, and if Miss Lia doesn’t pay by the end of the month, she’s on the street along with her stuff.”
Turning back to Lia, I saw her gaze was downcast and her fingers were knotted together. Placing my hands on hers, I gently disentangled them, and she looked up.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Although now I have a better idea of why you were going to Ryan White for money.”
“It’s not just that, boss,” Artie said, and now I glared over my shoulder at him. “What? I’m sure she didn’t tell you because she’s embarrassed.” He focused on Lia. “But it’s not your fault.”
