“You eaten?”
“Hm?” He blinks a few times and then shakes his head. “Crazy night, man.”
He’s in luck. I have another steak in the fridge, which I grill up while I make a simple salad. I cut a couple of thick slices of yesterday’s ciabatta, brush them with oil, and grill them on the pan, too, while the meat is resting. Carlo’s nose has pulled him off the couch and into the kitchen by then, and he watches me in silence.
I serve up, wipe a few splashes from the plate with a clean dish towel, and push it and some silverware across the counter to him where he’s sitting on a barstool. “Dig in.”
He looks down at the steak and then up at me. “You cook?”
I throw the dish towel over my shoulder. “I tie my own shoelaces, too.”
“I didn’t mean…I just meant—I didn’t think you evenusedthe kitchen. It’s soclean.”
“Just get it in your mouth while it’s hot.”
I watch him take the first bite. “Oh, my God,” he mumbles, his mouth full. He chews, his eyes closed and his face raised to heaven, swallows and gives me a look from under his lashes. “Yeah, I think I’m moving in permanently if this is on offer every night.”
“No chance,” I snort. “I barely get time to cook for myself these days.” I slice an extra piece of bread and toast it on the grill for myself, just to have something to do instead of creepily watch the guy eat. He even looks sexy doing that. “So what’s your plan?” I ask, once we’re companionably munching. I get crumbs everywhere and sweep them carefully off the counter into my palm.
“You’re neat,” he observes. “I mean, like, tidy. Notneato. Although you are that, too. What’s up with that?”
“Nothing’s up with that.”
He gives me thislook, like he’s trying to figure something out.
“Does all this misdirection mean you don’t actuallyhavea plan for tomorrow?” I ask.
He pauses in his chewing to glare at me. “Sure I do,” he says around the hunk of meat in his mouth, then swallows. I watch his throat muscles move and remember them moving the same way when I had my dick down there just last night. My cock starts to pulse, and I turn away to dump my handful of crumbs into the trash.
“So what is it?” I ask when I turn around again.
“We think through things logically.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Great plan. It’s a real mastermind class, being with you.”
He lets his knife and fork clatter onto the plate. “Jesus, give me a break, will you? I had kind of a shitty day. We can work the case tomorrow. Tonight I just wanna get some rest, try to forget the possibility that someone wants me dead.”
“You’re coming around to that, are you?”
Carlo pushes the plate away and puts his elbows on the counter, leaning his chin into his hands. “My father seemed to think the same thing, and it just about killed him to admit I was actually important to the firm. You can’t take my phone away from me again, by the way. That’s what triggered this whole shitshow.”
“What triggered this whole shitshow was your apartment getting broken into, and you not being there. So actually, I saved your life. Again.”
“Actually, whatstartedthis shitshow—” He breaks off as we both remember exactly whatdidstart this whole thing. “Fuck it,” he mutters. “It is what it is. We just need to figure out who it is and what they want.”
“You think the guy who sent me that note is the same one who broke into your place?”
He shrugs, shakes his head, but it’s not ano. It’s awho knows. “Do you think we can talk to Sophia Vicente?”
“Gatti’s bride? Why?”
“She might know if Gatti was given any instructions.”
“She would’ve said already if she knew anything. We talk to her, it’ll get back to Al Vollero, and then on to Luca. No.” I hold up my hand before he can start complaining. “Let’s get some rest for now; we can figure our moves out in the morning. You take the bed upstairs. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
He hesitates, and Iwillhim to say it, that we should just sleep together in the bed. I want it so bad it scares me, to take him up there again, not to fuck, but just to hold him. To keep him safe. I’ve been struggling with deep primal drives all night, ever since I saw that broken door. The same overwhelming feeling I got when I saw Gatti smothering the life out of him hit me tonight, the need to protect, the absolute certainty that I will kill any motherfucker who touches Carlo Bianchi, no matter who they are.
But when he speaks, all he says is, “Nah, man, I’m the one putting you out. I’ll take the sofa.”
