“Yo, someone had food in the parking lot for you,” a man called through the door.
“Shit,” Milo cursed under his breath as he grabbed his erection and tucked it behind the waistband of his pants. “That’s my cousin,” he explained, snatching my panties off the floor and shoving them into his pocket.
A mix of panic and embarrassment flooded me as I yanked my skirt back into place before checking my bodice.
“I have to let him in,” he said as I gave him a tight nod. Then, to the door, he called, “Coming. One sec.”
He took a slow, deep breath, trying to find some facsimile of self-control.
As for me, I lunged for my purse and yanked my sweats on under my dress, feeling way too exposed without my panties.
By the time Milo made it to the door, I’d deposited myself down on one of the chairs, flattened my hair, and wiped under my eyes in case I had any mascara smudged.
It was the best I could do in ten seconds and without a mirror.
Milo slid the lock before pulling open the door.
Then there was his cousin.
Apparently, the whole family had good genes.
Whoever this guy was, he was tall and fit in a slightly bulkier way than Milo was. He had a wide, strong jaw, unreadable eyes, and an aura that not too subtly told you to keep your distance.
“Mexican and Chinese. The asshole at the desk wouldn’t let me grab the Italian for you.”
“Thanks, Dom.”
“I tipped ‘em good. Why did you order so—oh,” he said, his gaze landing on me.
“Roe, this is my cousin, Domenico. Dom, this is Monroe Langston.”
I watched Dom’s gaze move from Milo, to me, and back again. And I didn’t miss the way his brow raised.
“I’ll fill you in once I get the food. Is it okay if Dom waits with you for a minute?” Milo asked.
“Sure,” I agreed, even if my belly felt a little wobbly.
“I’ll be five minutes, tops.”
With that, he grabbed his wallet and was gone.
Then his cousin and I were alone.
The silence stretched long and uncomfortable as he just stood there for a moment, rocking back on his heels, his hands tucked in his front pockets.
“So, you’re our spy.”
“So, you’re the Grassi guy who got out of prison not long ago.”
There had been several articles about his arrest and one post from a small-time mafia aficionado online who posted about his release.
To that, Dom’s lips tipped ever so slightly up. No one could call it a smile. But maybe just a sign of him not planning on murdering me. I hoped.
“That’d be me,” he agreed, nodding.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Maybe.”
