Yeah, so what? I never said I’d play fair.
“Faith requires belief.” Alessio shoved his hands into his pockets and looked toward his computers before muttering, “I don’t believe in anything anymore.”
Fuck.This was bad. I’d never seen Alessio like this, but I just knew if I could get him in front of Father Vitale?—
“Come on,” I said, and stepped to the side of the doorway. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
Alessio peered at me through the dark strands of his hair. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”
“I mean, you either come with us or I bring him here to you.”
His eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”
Apparently the idea of the reverend in his space was more of a threat than our dragging him to the man kicking and screaming.
“Your choice.”
He let out a muttered curse and stormed over to where I stood.
“I hate you right now.”
I shrugged. “I’m okay with that.”
If his hating me got him out of his lair and in front of the reverend for even a few minutes, at least I’d feel as though I’d helped him in some way toward a path of forgiveness.
28
THEO
“NEXT TIME, YOU’RE going with me,” I told Shep as I unpacked my suitcase so I could repack it to go to his place. “Tell your job that’s a royal decree.Must attend all personal engagements with Prince Rinaldi.”
Shep smirked as he lay back on his hands on my bed, watching me toss my dirty clothes into a hamper. “Tell my job? I’m the owner.”
“Well, as an owner you’re a hardass.”
“Damn right I am.” His legs shot out to trap me between them and hold me there. “Did you miss me or something?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Did I miss having you as a buffer to hold me back from saying shitty things to my brother on my quick trip to Monaco? Gee, no, why would you think that?”
“You didn’t.”
“Say shitty things?” I smoothed my hands over Shep’s bare shoulders before threading my fingers behind his neck. “Actually, I was on my best behavior, if you can imagine that.”
“I can’t.”
“Then you should’ve been there.”
Shep groaned and dropped his legs to let me go refill my toiletry bag. I’d been living out of suitcases for weeks now—not my favorite thing in the world—but his place was a better fit for us. The overly stuffy royal residence my family kept off Billionaire’s Row in Midtown Manhattan was a gorgeous place, even overlooking Central Park, but it didn’t feel like home. Not the way Shep’s place did.
“I wish I could’ve been,” he said, reaching for his shirt off the ground to put it back on.
I might’ve ripped his clothes off the second he arrived, but that didn’t mean he could put them on again.
“Hey, hey, hey, what do you think you’re doing?” I said, whirling back around. “No clothes allowed at the Rinaldi residence.”
Shep looked at me defiantly, a mischievous tip to his lips, and pulled the shirt over his head. “What are you gonna do about it?”
Oh, he was pushing all my buttons. I immediately dropped my bottle of cologne on the mattress and straddled him where he sat, now wearing entirely too much with his boxer briefs pulled on too.
