“Maybe a water.” Being alone for a minute might help me to collect myself.
He gets up and heads for the kitchen, and I miss his touch, which is so at odds with the merciless mobster who broke another man’s fingers this morning that it’s not even funny. Nothing makes sense. The homey sound of ice cubes tinkling into a glass echoes from the kitchen. Afternoon light streams into the living room, everything calm and still.
Cid jumps down from his sunlit perch and launches himself effortlessly into my lap with a purring trill. He knocks his softlittle head into my chin, aggressive with his affection as always. I run my hand along his back, and he arches into my pet, his tail going up. I feel grounded, comforted. The panic has almost entirely receded now, and I’m not sure who is more responsible for that—Alessio or Cid.
Alessio strides back into the room, holding out a glass of ice water for me. I take it, studiously avoiding touching him this time.
“Thanks.”
I bring the glass to my lips and take a long pull of the cool, clear water. That helps too, until a Cid fur gets stuck on my nose, tickling me.
“Something wrong with your nose, Jane?” Alessio asks, the softness leaching from him before my eyes like it was never there.
I lower the glass and wrinkle my nose. “A Cid fur.”
“Hold still.” Before I can stop him, he reaches out and gently brushes the bridge of my nose with one tatted finger. “Better?”
And there it is again, the strange contradiction I can’t seem to make sense of. The man with hands that can be so gentle and yet also so destructive and cruel. It’s like he’s two different people at once, the charming, sexy bartender I met in St. Thomas and the ice-cold Mafia killer who breaks bones and does God knows what else.
“Better, thanks.”
I take another slow, deep breath, surprised to find the tension has completely left me.
“No problem.”
“So, you see, I can’t go to some underground bunker with you,” I tell him, still unable to admit why.
He nods. “The safe house isn’t going to be a good option for you. But that’s okay. I’ve got a Plan B.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask what that is.”
His gaze meets mine, and it’s like an electric jolt goes through me. “You and Cid are going to have to come and stay with me at my place.”
My response is every bit as instant this time as it was at his previous suggestion.
“No.”
“Yes.” He stands back up. “Which room are you staying in? I’ll grab your bags. We don’t have any time to lose.”
“I’m not staying at your place,” I protest.
For all kinds of reasons, that’s not going to work. Being under the same roof as him? Sleeping in his apartment? Enveloped by his space? God, no. I can’t do it. I won’t do it.
“Like I said, you don’t have a choice,” he tells me, and then he strolls away. “If you won’t tell me where your stuff is, I’ll just start going through rooms until I find it.”
Cid rubs enthusiastically against my boobs, leaving a coating of gray fur on my shirt, completely unaware that we’re about to jump headlong into complete and utter disaster.
Chapter 14
SAINT
She’s in my space.
My domain.
It feels intimate having her here. Intimate in a way I wasn’t prepared for. As I make dinner, I’m perpetually reminded of her presence. Grab the garlic press, think about Isla settling into one of the guest rooms. Heat some olive oil in the skillet, wonder how the fuck I’m going to survive the hell of having her in my apartment and keeping my hands to myself. Stalk to the fridge to get out some Pecorino Romano and a lemon and nearly trip over Cid.
It’s like the walls are closing in on me, even if my apartment is massive by city standards. True, it’s not the size of Priest’s penthouse, but I have an acreage in the country for when I want to really stretch my legs.
