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“I want to go home,” I say to him, a little harsher than I wanted, but word vomit is my specialty.
“Why?” he asks, and my eyebrows raise.
“I need time. I need time to process what we have and haven't found, and I need to be in my space to do it,” I state, keeping it professional. God, I was so stupid to actually get so deeply involved with him.
“Bambolina,” he says as he takes a step toward me, and my heart melts a little at the pet name.
“It’s fine.” I take a step back, putting my hand up, and he stills. His head tilts, like he is trying to figure me out.
“What happened? Something has happened?” His tone is a little more forceful, and my stomach feels like it is going to come out of my throat.
“I’m just tired, and I really need to be in my own space. I have been here for over a month. I need fresh air, my own things, my own environment.” His eyes crease as he looks at me.
“Okay,” he says, nodding, yet I know he doesn’t believe me.
“Okay?” I ask in reply, wanting to make sure I heard him correctly and he doesn’t place any caveats on me.
“Yes, bambolina. It’s been a big project. You work too hard, and I have been keeping you awake too much. I understand. But we are not finished here. I want to know your thoughts on the boxes and then we need to tackle his laptop.” I am surprised at his genuine concern, my chest warming before I tamp it down.
“I also want to take you to my own apartment. Now the boxes are done, we don't need to stay here in this one. I want you with me,” he adds, and my heart almost stops. I want that too. I want to be with him, but my mind is such a mix of emotions, I can’t get a grip on things.
I am speechless for a moment. I have spent all morning thinking he just wanted me for sex and now he is saying he wants me in his space, in his apartment. He wants me.
“Make no mistake, bambolina,” he says, coming closer to me slowly, like he knows what I am thinking. “You are mine. You work for me, but your body is mine as well, as is your brain, and your smart pouty mouth. Maybe your heart too. I will organize Tony to drive you. You go and get your things sorted and have a break today, because tonight I want you all to myself.” Grabbing his cell from his pocket, he walks back out the door.
28
NICO
Idon’t like her not being with me, but I can tell she needs to think. She was off this morning, and I don’t know why. Sitting with her in the back of the car as we drive to her office, I crack my knuckles, not liking that she is hiding something from me. She remains quiet, her body rigid, and I hope the day away from each other helps her with whatever is going on in that head of hers.
I don’t want to argue with her or upset her. But I can’t stop myself from asking again before she’s out of my reach.
“Is there something wrong, bambolina?” I ask, stroking her hand with my thumb as she grips mine tightly. I clench my jaw, wanting to demand answers, but knowing that won’t help the situation right now.
“No, nothing,” she says with a huff like I am annoying her, which does little to make me feel better.
“I’m just sad to see Cindy go off to the other side of the world. It’s a big trip!” There may be some truth to that, but I know that isn’t everything. I nod in understanding and let her be.
Tony pulls up outside her office. The city is busy as usual, and I look up and down the sidewalk before I step out. It is a habit us boys have. Always to be aware of our surroundings. I stand and lean into the car, offering my hand to Emilia. She takes it, and I squeeze her hand in mine, before pulling her inside and taking the elevator up to her floor.
“You don’t have to come all the way up,” she says, and I scowl.Why is she giving me the brush off?
“What is going on? Did you find something in the boxes?” I ask, coming to the conclusion she must have spotted something. What else could have caused this change in demeanor?
“No, I mean… maybe. I don’t know.” Her face scrunches up in frustration.
“What did you find?” I press, now intrigued.
“I just saw some paperwork that made me think of something. But I can’t connect the dots yet.” Her answer is cryptic, and I don’t like it.
“Tell me what you saw.” It’s not a question.
She sighs, the weight of the world on her shoulders. “Invoices. They didn’t look right, but I can’t reconcile them until I go through the paperwork again to see if they match up with any other inventory.” While the words make sense in theory, I know there is much more to it. Before I can push her further, the elevator stops and the doors open to her floor. Cindy’s excited greeting halts my questioning for now.
“Hi, guys!” Cindy says happily, and given she will be on a plane tomorrow, I am sure she is excited to take her big trip.
“Hi!” Emilia says, just as upbeat. “I am popping in for a bit because I wanted to see you before you go!” The two of them chirp on for a moment, and I wonder how long it will take her to notice the tall, dark, menacing soldier at her office door. I have no problem with her needing to have space to think and work from her office or apartment, but there is no way she is doing it without protection.
