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She agreed? Excitement fills me, and I beam at her. "Fuck yes. This will be—"
"Tentatively,"she reiterates firmly, ice in her green eyes. "And only because you've made two half-assed points about our track records that I'd like to avoid for the next few weeks. So don’t expect me to enjoy it."
"I don’t have to expect it. It'll still happen. You'll enjoy yourself with me, cutie."
"Learn to stop while you're ahead, Giovanni, or I'll take it all back. And if you're done pushing your proposal, prove that you can be a representative worth working with and tell me about this first contact we'll be meeting in Chicago."
It's adorable and admirable how she gets down to business without missing a beat. I lounge back in my chair, relaxed as I briefly tell her about all the Giovanni family's past dealings with this guy—the one we'll be meeting in six days. I explain that he runs a decent-sized operation, and I've worked with him directly on several occasions.
"He's big on likability," I add. "As in, if he likes you, he works with you. If he doesn't, he's just as likely to turn you over to authorities as he will leave you be."
Giulia adjusts the stack of napkins on the table near us, seemingly without realizing it. I'm sure her apartment is tidy and clean to a fault, and I wonder if she enjoys cleaning and tidying as a way of relaxing. If she does, would she like the lakehouse I bought—the one I still need to organize?
"Do you have a lot of contacts like that?"
"Like what?" I ask, distracted since she's leaning forward.
Her dark hair spirals down her tanned, flawless back, begging for my touch. Better not do that without asking—especially right now, when she could easily back out of the proposal she agreed to.
"Contacts who will only work with you if they like you."
"Pretty sure that's how all contacts work," I point out. "Business is all about getting people to like you or fear you. Sometimes I like relying on the latter, and I'm sure you do, too."
She's quiet for a moment, face unreadable. I want to ask what she's thinking, but finally, Giulia sighs and scoots her chair away from the table. Clearly, she's wrapping things up here. I'll have to return to the little hotel room and let Bruno and Marcus know we're getting on the next plane back to Chicago.
I won't get to see her again for six days.
It isn't long, but I wish it was over. I like talking with Giulia, even if she mostly scowls at me or raises unimpressed eyebrows. I'll be bored until I see her again, and I already know I won't be able to stop thinking about our chaste kiss here in the cafe—and our much less pristine touches in that dark hallway.
Maybe I can get her to stay a moment longer. Extend this meeting.
"Did you eat?" I try, fishing for anything.
She glances at me, her mind clearly still elsewhere, as she slings a purse over her shoulder and steps toward the door. "I had the Caprese salad. If you're eating here, I suggest getting something else. It's rare to get good Italian food anywhere but at home."
"You can say that again,Bellissima," I grin.
I want to add more to that—to tell her about Gabriella and how my father only cooks my mom's old recipes on their anniversary now that she's passed. Or I could ask Giulia if she enjoys cooking because maybe I could lure her into a kitchen with me eventually, and we could make something together. I couldn't contribute much, but anything seemed enjoyable with her.
Instead, I force myself not to follow her out the door as she murmurs a goodbye and leaves. I sigh and rub my shoulder again, where the old scar is.
I can get to know her more later—especially now that she's agreed to have some fun with me. I'll take whatever I can get with Giulia…and I plan on getting a lot with her because everything about that beautiful Russo makes my heart pound.
Chapter 11
Giulia
Chicagoisdefinitelywindy.
I've never been here since it's Giovanni territory, and I've never had a reason to venture near them. I don’t get nervous easily, but I'll admit that knowing this entire city's underbelly is essentially owned by my family's enemy is alarming because Chicago is big, impressive, and even beautiful.
I fight the wind to get my curls over one shoulder, holding them there and finally spotting the Uber that'll take me to the dance club I'm supposed to meet with Roberto.
Meeting with Roberto Giovanni. To dance.My God, what is this world coming to?
But he'd made excellent points, despite underselling it a little. His impulsive, troublemaking reputation worried me about the longevity of the limited working relationship between our families, and I'd had several business associates in the past recommending that I "loosen up." I've had many invite me to parties or out drinking, and they all seemed pretty put off by my noninterest.
Maybe trying to loosen up slightly would be more beneficial than detrimental.
