Me: What is she doing down there?
Camilla: Baking bread, last I checked.
I could just see the older woman’s smug smile as she typed it.
Me: Thank you.
Pulling off my shirt, I tossed it in the garbage, which would go to the incinerator and grabbed one of my many black button-down shirts. It was just us awake, so I didn’t bother tucking it in or even doing it up all the way.
Arriving at the door to the kitchen, I stood there and watched the woman who was quickly working her way into my soul, doing nothing but being herself, kneading dough. She rolled out the dough and plopped it into loaf pans as I gazed at her.
She spun around, and the scream that left that woman’s mouth would be able to wake the dead. Emilia slammed her hand to her chest, making the flour she had on them puff out in a cloud. “What the fuck, Nico?” She panted out as she bent over, gasping for breath. “You scared the shit out of me.” Her words were mumbled.
“I’m sorry,” I said as I tried to hide my laughter with a cough.
“Don’t laugh, this isn’t funny. I could have had a heart attack.” She finally stood upright again, and I watched her eyes drift over the unbuttoned part of my shirt. “You look like you’re in one piece. Did we take any losses?”
“No, your intel was spot on. Men are at every place you said they would be, and the exact number inside. I still want to know how you knew that,” I said as I sat down on a stool across from her.
“People are predictable in this business. They find a plan that works and stick with it until it no longer does. Well, the smaller families do.” She turned and slid the loaf pans into the oven. Herperfect, round ass was almost enough of a distraction to forget what I was talking about.
“But not you, Nico. You weren’t predictable. It was one of the reasons I never planned to take you out. I couldn’t get a read on you, and you had too many men for me to predict your next move.” She sat down and ran her finger through the flour that was on the counter.
I sat with the information she had just freely offered. She’d avoided talking about her surveillance of me, but finally she cracked a little. “So, tell me, why are you down here baking bread this late at night?” I watched her frown as she processed what I asked. She was probably expecting more questions about her time leading her family.
“I bake when I’m worried. I started with cookies and then you weren’t home, so I started bread,” she mumbled.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’ve done it all my life.”
“You were worried about me,” I gloated.
“I was worried about the men that work for you, not you.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“You were worried about me.” Standing from the stool, I slowly moved around to her side of the island.
“As I said, I was thinking of the men who have families.” She stuttered as she tried to come up with something that sounded good.
“It’s okay, you can admit it, you didn’t want me to get hurt.” I leaned against the edge and crossed my arms.
“Fine, you big oaf, I was worried about you.” She crossed her arms and slouched.
“But last time you were worried about me, you moved another bed into our room, so what’s different this time?” I tried to hide the smirk crossing my face as I watched her face instantly change. Her eyes sparkled with a wicked playfulness, and hertight-lipped smile made me wonder if she had another plan like that waiting for me.
“This time you didn’t piss me off,” she said, grabbing the towel beside her and throwing it at me.
“I knew you liked me.” Taking a step closer to her.
“Like is a really strong word,” Emilia said, finally looking up at me, but she was pretending to frown.
“Well, now I know, so you can’t hide it.” I laughed, and she turned away from me, her pink cheeks the reminder that she’s very innocent in some ways.
“So how do you know how to do all this?” I quizzed her as I moved to the wine fridge and poured us each a glass.
“Things in the house I grew up in weren’t easy. More than just the abuse,” she added quickly. “We didn’t have the money for cooks or chefs, so it was up to me to figure out how to make meals and bake whatever my father decided he wanted that day.” She sat on the stool again and sipped the wine.
“Who knows about the situation in your home?”
