Grizzly: Marco, grab Jorja’s shit and bring it here, will ya?
Midas: Yes. I will. And the bill?
Grizzly: Put it on my tab and have your sister send me the final balance.
There was no way he was allowing Marco’s family to lose out on the money Jorja’s room would have earned them. The Italian economy was hard enough as it was without him adding to their problems.
Midas: Si.
“Is that still Remi?” Jorja nodded to his phone. “Tell him I’ll be down as soon as I’m alive enough to not get myself in trouble.”
“No rush,” he assured her. “Remi doesn’t sleep much.”
“I don’t think any of you do.” She nudged him with her elbow. “All your brothers appeared as soon as food started cooking last night.”
“They did, didn’t they? That’s kinda normal though. We all know Remi tends to eat late at night. When he’s done working for the day, it’s a good time to grab a snack.”
“I’d be as big as a house if I ate like that every night.”
“We’ll run it off today.” Thank fuck for exercise, because he loved food too. If he didn’t have sparring, running, and weights, he’d be the one struggling to make the fitness grade he insisted they all needed to maintain.
She leaned over to place her empty coffee mug on the table which ran the full length of the couch. “At least you aren’t one of those annoying people who never puts on an ounce no matter how much you eat.”
He snorted. “I used to be one of those, maybe ten years ago… now, not so much.”
“What happened?”
“I retired from the Navy.” He drained the dregs of his coffee and placed his mug next to hers. “Ain’t nothing like a twenty-kick ruck to keep the pounds at bay. That and the not so awesome food.”
“Unless you’ve got a Kayce to make you chocolate and strawberry desserts,” she reminded him.
“Truth.” He checked his phone when it beeped again. “Marco is on his way with your bags, so your clothes will be here in about twenty minutes.”
“Awesome, thank you.” She got off the couch. “I’ll go have a shower so I’m ready when he gets here. I have to organize paying the hotel too.”
“I took care of the hotel.” He stood up too. “It’s because of us that you are here in the first place. I think I have a t-shirt and some shorts which shrunk in the wash. They might be closer to fitting you until your stuff gets here.” He led theway into his bedroom and checked the closet for the plastic tub of clothing he’d put aside to donate. “Help yourself to anything in this box. If you need fresh towels, they’re here.” He opened a dresser drawer. “And there’s new toothbrushes and shi—stuff under the sink.”
“Thank you.” She took some towels and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
Gunnar stared at the door until the key turning in the lock jolted him back to some semblance of reality. He knew better than to think she was happily going along with everything, just as he knew he was an idiot for enjoying having her in his space. Had he not learned he did not do well in relationships? He wasn’t cut out for that shit. His phone beeped from the living room, and he left the room to go check it, grateful for the distraction which kept him from imagining what was happening behind that closed bathroom door.
After reading Marco’s confirmation that he was just pulling into the garage, Gunnar sent a message to Remi, letting him know Jorja would be back in the war-room within the hour. He made more coffee, doctoring one for Jorja and a third for Marco just as the knock sounded on the secret door in his living room.
Gunnar sipped on his coffee as he crossed the room to the long table which ran in front of the couch and flipped the handle on the cupboard door at the end to one side, revealing the thumbprint lock. He pressed his left thumb to the scanner and waited for the light to turn green, then waited for the table to slide back, revealing the staircase hidden underneath. “Buongiorno, Marco.”
Marco nodded and stepped around him into the room, clearly enthralled by something in the room. Without looking, Gunnar already knew what it was. He hit the button to close the door again.
“That’s some James Bond stuff right there.”
Fuck.
Gunnar cursed in his head. He’d thought she’d be in the shower for at least another ten or fifteen minutes. “Yes, it is,” he agreed. It wasn’t her fault he was a dumbass. He noticed Marco staring at her and snatched the suitcase his friend carried from him. He shoved it toward Jorja. “Get dressed now,” he ordered. It pissed him off that she wasn’t bothered about Marco being in the room while she was wrapped only in a towel which barely covered her from chest to mid-thigh.
She caught the suitcase before it toppled over and gave him a dirty look as if she knew exactly where his thoughts were. “It’s not my fault you have some warped opinion of me,” she snapped. “Take that thought you just had and shove it right up your ass where it belongs.” She grabbed the handle of the suitcase and wheeled it into the bedroom. His whole apartment shook from the force of the door slamming shut.
“Fuck!”
“Good luck with that, my friend." Marco smirked and left the apartment, this time by the main stairs down to the courtyard. His laughter echoed up the stairs behind him until Gunnar heard the front door click shut behind him.
