“You’ll always come back,” I grinned. “And I’ll be waiting. Per sempre.”
He pulled back, studying me. I let my guard down, wanting him to see my determination.
“Don’t play with my heart, Mandy,” he warned. “You might break it.”
“I won’t.” It was a promise I would spend forever keeping. “But, Enzo? We need to talk.”
Vincenzo nodded. “I know, it’s one of your favorite things to do.”
I slapped his shoulder. “Hey! I like other things too.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up in a wicked smirk. “And those would be?”
Skating my hand over his jacket, up his neck, and against his skull, I arched a brow. “Take me home, monster, and I’ll show you.”
He groaned. The deep rumble was pure masculine want. It sent heat churning between my legs.
“We have an appointment first,” he murmured. “Otherwise, I would throw you over this bike and drive straight home.”
My panties turned wet at the idea.
But reality swam to the surface and begged me to remember the life I was carving out for myself here. “I have to get back to work. Liam will want areport—”
“No.” That word sliced the air.
“Excuse me?” My hackles reared, and I narrowed my eyes at him.
His tone softened. “My deal with the green fucker was that you worked forty hours a week. A minute more, and I’ll cut him for every tick of overtime.”
I scoffed. “He hasmountainsof work. There’s no way I can get it all done in only forty hours.”
“Mandy?”
“Enzo.” I lifted my brows. But he wasn’t going to budge. Not without incentive. “Fine, fifty.”
“Forty.”
“We’ll see,” I huffed, already forming battle plans for another time. One where we were naked, and I could exert my control.
“No, we won’t.” He gave my ass a firm squeeze, knowing exactly what I was thinking. “And you’re done for today. I told Liam I was picking you up, because there’s somewhere else you have to be.”
My pussy clenched. I loved the implication in his words. “Okay, fine. You win this round.”
Chuckling darkly, he gently pushed me away, plucked the helmet from the ground, and slid it over my head with a little help.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he steadied me to slip onto the bike behind him.
“You’ll see.”
The bike thundered to life, and we shot forward. To the outside observer, Vincenzo seemed like a reckless driver. He was liberal with acceleration. Hairpin sharp with turns. And he treated other vehicles as obstacles, not fellow travelers.
But there was no safer place to be than holding onto him as he sped through his city.
When he finally pulled the bike into a street-side parking space, I leaned back. Looked around. And did a double take.
Newbury Street.
This street held Boston’s upscale shops and was considered one of the world's most expensive shopping streets outside of the major fashion capitals of the world. And where were we? In front of an exclusive storefront that I’d only ever heardof—Il Cielo.
