AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Nero slides his gaze to me, as he turns the car toward the opening garage door. “Not really.”
“But…” I shift to keep an eye on the dog, but then we enter the garage, effectively cutting off my view.
“The dogs are here to work.”
“Oh.” My shoulders sag.
While Nero turns off the car, I let my eyes skip over the other vehicles already parked inside the garage.
“You like dogs?”
I bite my lip and nod. “I’ve always wanted one.”
“I thought your building allowed them?”
I don’t bother asking why he knows the rental rules for my place. “No. I mean, they do, but dogs are expensive, and I didn’t… I’d want to spoil it. And I knew I couldn’t.”
“What kind did you want?”
“I would’ve been happy with any kind,” I sorta laugh. It sounds sadder than I meant it to, so I wave a hand. “I didn’t mean that like awoe is mething. I just meant that I’m not picky. I always assumed, whenever I could, I’d go to the shelter and get a small dog, since I had a small apartment, but the big ones are fun too.”
Nero grunts in reply, and I’m thankful the conversation is over. I’m intimidated just from his driveway, I don’t need any extra reminders of my poorness.
We open our doors at the same time, and I climb out of the car, food in hand.
He’d told me he was rich. Said it just like that.I’m rich.But I guess I hadn’t really thought about what that meant. I’d just assumed he lived in a really nice condo. Which still would’ve been intimidating. This place though––I try not to gawk at the size of the garage––this place is next-level rich. This place ismovie starrich––I have a cook––rich.
Nero’s door finally shuts, and when he circles around the car to meet me, I see he has my duffel and the pretty blue heels I abandoned in the lobby of the Historical Society.
“You know,” he says, when he sees where I’m looking. “Cinderella only left one shoe behind.”
I fight my embarrassment by rolling my eyes. “Yeah, and Prince Charming didn’t break into her home to find her.”
Nero grins. “The villains always have more fun.”
Jesus Christ, he’s handsome when he does that.
“Come on, Princess.” He tucks the shoes under his arm, then takes the bag of tacos from me, shifting it to the same hand as the duffel. This leaves me holding nothing and him with an open hand.
He holds his hand out between us, and I take it.
Side-by-side, we walk through the open garage door and back out into the night.
I saw a door that I was sure led from the garage into the house, but my curiosity over the route is answered when a man approaches to talk to Nero.
Listening to their conversation, I learn the man’s name is Rocco, although Nero doesn’t introduce us.
My first instinct is to be offended. But then I remember that, like the dogs, this guy is here to work.
Another man comes over, and the three of them talk about positions and timing and other stuff my brain is too tired to understand.
Nero is gruff with them. His words are clipped and every inch of him is taut with tension. The man, who grinned at me moments ago, completely replaced by this harder, scarier version of himself. Even holding high heels, a bag of cheap fast food, and a beat-up duffel, he looks intimidating.
With my eyes on the dark bristly hair of his beard, I think I finally understand.
Understand him. The danger. The situation.
What happened with that invite today is just the beginning.
