I only turn when my phone rings again. Picking it up, I swipe to answer the call.
“What is it, Theo?” I ask, my voice clipped.
He’s straight to the point. “The Mancinis might be looking to have a meeting with you. Face-to-face.”
I mull over it, turning the idea in my head. As I calculate the risks and the advantages, my gaze cuts back to Mara. I watch as she throws her head back and laughs with abandon. Turning back around sharply, I give Theo a short answer before cutting the call.
“Set it up somewhere neutral.”
The soundof metal clanging fills the gym while sweat rolls down the length of my back and my hair sticks to my forehead. I’m on the last set when I feel something soft rub itself on the side of my leg. Looking down, I spot the little creature that Mara promised to keep out of my way no less than three days ago.
What did I expect from a reckless, spoiled mafia principessa?
Cursing under my breath, I pick Duchess up. The little menace purrs like she’s pleased with herself, tiny claws flexing against my chest as if she knows she’s dragging me around the Castello like some servant. I don’t even know how she slipped into the gym.
I head down the hall, my steps echoing against the stone floors. First stop, Mara’s room.
Dark. Door shut. No light under the crack. Figures.
“Where the hell is she, huh?” I mutter down at the kitten.
She blinks up at me, wide-eyed, useless.
I keep moving, irritation pulling me through the corridors. Past the grand staircase. Past the closed library doors. Past one of the guards, who stiffens as I walk by but wisely keeps his mouth shut. The house feels cavernous at this hour, shadows stretching long across the black walls, chandeliers dripping with silent gold.
Finally, I push open the door to the living room. And stop.
The place is dim, lit only by the low glow of recessed ceiling lights and the faint amber burn of sconces along the walls. And sprawled across the massive cream couch, surrounded by pillows like she owns the damn place, is Mara.
Asleep.
Her robe has slipped off one shoulder, baring a curve of skin that’s too soft, too vulnerable. Her hair has come loose, spilling across her cheek, hiding half her face. Her lips are parted, breath steady.
Duchess squirms in my arms, lets out a soft mewl, and Mara shifts. Even in sleep, murmuring something faint, it’s as if her body already knows the kitten is close.
For a long moment, I just stand there.
Every instinct in me says wake her. Drag her upstairs to her room. Remind her that this isn’t the place for her to go falling asleep wherever she pleases like a child. But I don’t do any of that.
Instead, I move closer. I lower myself onto the ottoman placed directly beside the couch, Duchess still squirming in my arms. For a while, I just sit there, elbows resting on my knees, staring at her like a man who’s lost his mind. The kitten paws at my chest, purring, content.
I should be furious. Instead, I’m…still.
She shifts slightly, her hand twitching as though, even asleep, she’s searching for something to hold. Her hair falls further onto her face, hiding her.
My fingers twitch. I shouldn’t. But I do.
Leaning forward, I brush the strands gently away, tucking them behind her ear. My knuckles hover for a second too long, almost grazing her skin. She sighs, lips parting a little more, and for a dangerous heartbeat, I forget myself.
Duchess lets out a soft squeak, breaking the spell.
I shake my head, jaw tight. This is madness. All of it.
I set the kitten down beside her, and Duchess wastes no time curling against Mara’s side, her tiny body fitting perfectly in the crook of her arm. Mara stirs, but doesn’t wake, her hand falling protectively over the creature, instinctive and natural.
I reach for the blanket draped at the end of the couch, shake it out, and cover her carefully. The fabric settles over her shoulders, softening the edges of her bare skin. For a moment, the sight almost feels…right.
I sit there for a moment longer, watching her chest rise and fall, the kitten purring in sync.
