It seemed that old habits died hard.
He’s here.
The sun would rise, and there was no reason for him to run away. This was his lair. This was his bed—the only bed in the whole loft.
Of course he would sleep in his own bed.
I snatched my hand back.
“I won’t bite,” the deep, gravelly voice rumbled. “Not unless you ask me to.”
Heat of a different nature flashed in my belly. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
He murmured roughly. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I have a surprise for you today, and I was going to wait for you in the living room, since you didn’t ask me to come back to bed, but then—”
He shrugged.
“It’s your bed,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I added.
“Wasn’t you,” he yawned. “It was my damn child.”
My stupid heart skipped a beat. He called his cat his child. This big, tough mafia man not only had cats but adored them. Enough to make a social media account featuring the tiny beasts.
“Hey, don’t talk that way about my buddy,” I teased softly. “Grigio has been nothing but welcoming during my sojourn here.”
Vincenzo rolled over. “How do you know his name?”
Was he asking if I remembered? That we had the names of our cats, our dogs, even our children selected once upon a time?
I went with the safer answer, not trusting the fallible, thundering organ in my chest to handle a deeper discussion at the moment. “I found your Instagram account.”
In the silence that followed, Vincenzo reached out and brushed a lock of hair off my face. It was as if the monster could see in the dark.
“I’m glad they like you, but I’m not surprised,” he confessed.
“Why wouldn’t they?” I was having trouble breathing. He was too close. Too warm. And damn, did he have to smell that good? He’d been on his bike recently. The fuel and leather was a delicious aroma, but it couldn’t hide the masculine scent that was all him.
“A few members of my crew, who’ve been around, seem to be their mortal enemies,” Vincenzo confided.
I laughed. “Yeah, I wonder why. Bill would skin them and wear them as hats if he wasn’t so allergic.”
Vincenzo snorted. The short laugh was devilishly sexy.
I was in danger of doing something stupid like rolling over and sliding on top of him. So, I scooted out of the bed and padded to the bathroom. As I flicked on the light, his voice stopped me.
“Mandy?”
I turned, and a tingle of heat sizzled between my legs. Vincenzo had leaned back in bed, crooking his muscled arms behind his head. The blanket was pulled just under his chest, but there was enough of a tease to show the work of art it hid.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t go to the police today.”
Just like that, the carnal urge to rush him fizzled out. “Excuse me?”
“I know you have a contact with the Feds here in Boston,” Vincenzo said evenly, although his eyes had hardened. “Don’t do it. Don’t make this worse by trying to be the heroine.”
