I knew he was hot as hell, but that seems kind of secondary now. Romeo’s personality shines like a lighthouse beacon through all the roughness. It calls to me like I’m a ship in a storm, seeking safety in the chaos around me.
Romeo finally manages to unlock the door, and he shows me in, switching on the overhead light, and scanning the apartment as if frightened he might’ve left a mess that would make me bolt before I even toe off my sneakers by the door.
He has already removed his shoes and they’re now sitting smartly beneath a coat stand hung with jackets for every season.
The apartment is small but clean. Neat. I make a mental note to tidy my place up before I invite him over. He’d freak out if he saw the crumby plates on the floor by the couch and the stained coffee mugs. Not to mention the pile of laundry that lives on the bathroom floor because I never got around to buying a hamper.
Romeo’s couch looks as if no one ever sat on it. The kitchen counter gleams beneath the spotlights set into the ceiling. The shelves on the wall are stacked neatly with books in color order, and there’s an old record player on a low wooden table with a stack of vinyl records placed neatly beside it.
“It isn’t much,” Romeo says.
“It’s lovely. It’s very… you.”
He grins. “I can’t help it. Years in the Marines. And my mom,” he adds.
“Are you a mama’s boy, Romeo… Gosh. I don’t even know your last name.”
“Andretti,” he says softly.
Sara Andretti,my mind says. Because of course that’s where this is going after two dates.
I quickly shut it down. “So. Romeo Andretti. Mama’s boy?”
He chuckles. “I respect the hell out of my mom, and I love her deeply.”
“But?”
“But she doesn’t know everything about my life.” He takes a deep breath. “She thinks I work for Rossi Shipping and Exports.”
I suck on my top lip. “And she doesn’t know what that means?”
“She wasn’t born into this life. She’s from Ireland.”
“Ireland?” I have an instant vision of a red-haired beauty with a lilting accent. And a horse. As if everyone in Ireland rides horses.
“Long story. But she came here when she was sixteen and that’s when she met my dad.”
“Ah. And Mr. Andretti was born into this life?”
He gives me a cautious smile. “Went to jail with the De Lucas who got caught in the 80s.”
I’ve heard the story. Caterina’s grandfather and uncle had been among those arrested. She told me about it one day, sitting in her huge pink bedroom drinking mugs of hot chocolate piled high with marshmallows. She never told anyone else about her family’s dark history, and I felt privileged that she’d told me. As if I was the chosen one.
Caterina had almost been embarrassed by her legacy.
But not Romeo. That’s not to say that he wears it like a medal. He simply accepts that’s it’s a part of what makes him the person he is.
Romeo takes my hand—I’ve already noticed that he likes to be always touching—and guides me into the compact kitchen. Here, as in the rest of the apartment, everything is so clean and neat, you could eat off the work surface. Not that I would suggest doing that. I don’t want to embarrass him, bad enough that I just called him a mama’s boy.
“Coffee?” He fills the coffee machine with water and switches it on, then stares at my lips. “You look like you need warming up.”
I move closer and lean against him. His hands hover near my face, then he tucks a damp lock of hair behind my ear for something to do with his fingers.
“I could think of other ways to get warm,” I say.
“You could?”
My heart is pounding, running a mile a minute. He’s so close and all I can think about is what he’s going to look like naked. I mean, I’ve pretty much seen all of him already in his wet swim shorts. But if the parts I haven’t seen are in proportion to the rest of him…
