"Guess it was one of Gino's lackeys."
"You don't think—" But the guy breaks off, not willing to voice his thoughts.
And that's about all the useful information I end up with.
Darian glances at the clock and sighs. "I need to do my rounds. Get something together for lunch."
I have a vision of him making endless sandwiches or something. "I'll send a few guys in to help. They'll do whatever you tell them to do," I add, sensing the protest before it comes. "And I need to go do some security checks while you're doing that. I'll get Santarelli to stick by you while I'm gone. Okay?"
He doesn't seem all that happy about it—and neither am I, having to juggle all these responsibilities on not much sleep for the last two nights—but he says, "Okay."
I leave Darian, Oz Santarelli, and another two guys getting together some sandwich options, cold cuts and salads—I squash the grumbles with the kind of glance Pedretti used to use to squash me—and I do my own rounds.
When I get back in the late afternoon I'm starving, so when I see Darian kept aside a plate for me, piled high with food, I could fuckinghughim. I have to settle for a wide grin, though, because my men are all standing there looking at me, like they're waiting for my reaction. I tell them all to take a hike as I sit down at the kitchen counter to dig in, while Darian gets me a drink.
Damn. A man could get used to this.
"How about after I eat, we go move my things into your suite, get me settled in?" I say through a mouthful of sandwich.
Darian gives a small smile. "Yes, I'd like that."
CHAPTER 20
RAFFI
It doesn't take longfor me to pack up my stuff from my guest room, and Darian carries the two suits I have. When we enter his suite again, Darian sees me looking around and gets this embarrassed expression. "It's probably much smaller than your apartment, I know, but?—"
"You kidding?" I interrupt with a laugh. "I got a tiny place. This is real nice. Space enough for both of us." I set my duffel on the floor. "So…where do you want my things?"
He gestures to the large French armoire in the corner. "I can clear space in there for your clothes, and I'll give you a drawer as well, if you need it."
"Don't go to too much trouble. I don't have all that much. Wasn't expecting to be staying here beyond a long weekend."
He clears some space for me while I unzip my duffel and start unpacking again, aware of him hovering anxiously behind me. When I turn around, I find him worrying his bottom lip between his teeth again.
"The couch converts into a bed," he says hesitantly. "If you'd prefer, I mean. To have your—your own space."
Disappointment shoots through me at the idea of sleeping on the couch. I said it myself before, sure, but I didn't reallymeanit. But I don't want Darian uncomfortable, so I smile and nod. "Sounds great."
"Oh," he says. "Well, I'll…I'll get some fresh linen from the laundry."
"Okay. I'll come with you." I'm not letting him go anywhere without eyes-on. But he doesn't seem to mind. After that, he helps me tidy my things into acceptable neatness in the drawer, while I let my mind turn over what the Bernardi factions were talking about this morning on the breakfast patio.
AJ's men didn't seem to know who did it. And there was no hint from Gino's guys, either. So if an order came down from either of them, it wasn't widely known.
Once my underwear is done—and folded a damn sight more neatly than I ever do it myself—I start to hang up my shirts and suits in the wardrobe. But when I see Darian's own clothes hanging there next to them, I have to pause. "I don't know if your clothes will wanna be stuck in here with mine," I tell him with a grin. I run my hand down one beautifully tailored jacket. "This has to be designer, right?"
Darian chuckles softly. "No, but my mother would be very proud to hear you say that. She's a dressmaker by trade, but she likes to keep her hand in with men's tailoring as well. And of course, a butler must always look his best."
"Well, you sure do." My gaze lingers on him a moment too long, and a soft flush creeps up his cheeks. Great, I've embarrassed him. "Hey," I say, and clear my throat. "Uh, why don't you let me put the sheets on the couch? You've had a tough day."
Darian hesitates for a moment before nodding and sitting down on the armchair opposite the couch, his posture tense. The couch pulls out into a double, which will be nice for my back, and I do my best to mimic his meticulous attention to detail with the sheets, but Darian seems agitated. "Am I doing it wrong?" I ask at last.
"What? Oh. No, that's fine."
"Something on your mind you want to share?"
He looks like I've caught him thinking about something he shouldn't be. I wonder like hell what it is. "Raffi," he says. "May I say something?"
