My heart sinks.
“I’ve been studying for this exam, and it’s one exam between me and achieving a degree.”
Very important. I nod. “You can’t attend your exam.”
“Why?” Her brows pinch.
I search for something better than, “Because I’m a mafia boss who needs to kill the men who hurt you”. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Her expression of confusion quickly morphs into indignation. “I’ve been working hard for that exam.”
“I know.” I really do. But I cannot risk her safety to anyone but me, or hidden here where she’s been snug and secure. “If I offered you a job instead, would you stay here and not go to the exam?”
“Why?” Her eyes snap with suspicion. “What would you be doing?”
I remain silent.
“I haven’t left this penthouse since you brought me here.” She shoves her plate away, and it hits the cafetiere, which topples and cracks, spilling the last of the coffee onto the table.
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry, what were you going to say?” My heart races. That was, “Thank you and goodbye”, wasn’t it?
“Then last night, I tried to… Oh never mind,” she finishes frustratedly and dabs at the coffee ineffectually with a napkin.
“What did you try to do last?—”
“But that’s not the point.” She scowls at the broken glass, then tosses the cloth onto the coffee stain and turns back to me. “You’re telling me I can’t leave?”
I don’t reply. I can’t say the words.
Understanding creeps across her face in a mix of fear and awe and panic.
“You’re not just a landlord, are you?” she says faintly.
“Nyet.” I knew this would happen, eventually.
“You’re a mafia boss.”
“Of Angel.” I intend that to be merely fact, but I’m proud of it, even though I don’t show it in ostentatious ways. This territory is knitted into my soul as firmly as Caterina is. I spend my time either caring for my people or taking vengeance on those who dare to think that because I’m a shadow, that I won’t mind if they try to take what’s mine.
Her mouth opens in shock, and regards me, sweeping her pretty brown eyes over my body. I can almost hear the ticking of her brain as she adds up what she’s heard about me.
“The Dark Angel lives in my building?”
“Why not?”
“I thought…” She swallows and wariness wars with experience on her face. “I don’t know what I thought. Half of us in Angel doubt you exist. The other half think you aren’t human.”
There was a time when that was at least partly true. But over the last few years, knowing Caterina? She changed me.
I approach slowly and she leans back in her seat. I continue advancing, bracing one arm on the table, trapping her in. With the other, I take her little hand and place it onto my chest, under my lapel and on the cotton of my shirt, over my heart.
“I exist,” I say softly. “And I’m very human.”
The steady beat thuds on her palm as she leaves her hand there after I release it, her palm warming me, before she smooths from side to side, seemingly mesmerised as we look into each other’s eyes.
I’m forty-two years old. I’ve taken lives, I’ve had women. But I’ve never been in love until I met Caterina, or felt this connected with another person until now.
