Me: Very.
Posy: You’re so lucky.
I snort. Only Posy could think I was lucky, but then I consider that I’m going to be alone for six weeks, and smile.
Posy: Is he staying while your father is away?
My stomach sinks. Jesus, how could I forget that? I’m not going to be alone after all. I drop my head back against the pillow with a groan.
Posy: Please tell me he is.
Me: Yes.
Posy: At least you’ll have the hot bodyguard to keep you company.
I chew on my bottom lip. She’s right, at least he’s good to look at. Massio is all man, and the authoritarian way he speaks sends a rush of anticipation through me.
He’s not like the boys at school. He’s strong, solid, and experienced.
Me: I’m screwed.
Posy: You mean you need to be screwed?
A laugh bursts from my chest.
Me: He doesn’t even like me.
Posy: How do you know?
Me: He called me a brat.
His words linger in my mind, and heat gathers in my stomach when I consider how he said he would spank me.
Posy: That’s kind of hot.
Oh, sweet Jesus. She’s right, it is.
Posy: He might want to punish you.
Why does reading that excite me so much?
Posy: Besides. You are a brat.
I smile from ear to ear at her honesty before sinking my teeth into my bottom lip. She’s right, I can be… trying, to say the least. Still, I don’t know how I feel about someone calling me a brat within minutes of meeting me. He’s assuming, just like everyone else does, and that irks me more than I care to admit.
Me: I’m going to go. I need food.
Posy: Okay. Night.
Me: Night.
My stomach rumbles louder, so I push off the bed and head toward the kitchen.
MASSIO
My body tenses all over. I sense her before she enters the kitchen. The short gasp she releases when she sees me makes my chest swell with pride, but I act indifferent to her reaction and continue chopping the fresh fruit with my switchblade. Each one of us brothers owns one; Sal gifted them to us on our eighteenth birthdays, and they’ve become a signature part of our personalities.
The smoothies I prepare are part of my daily routine—one in the morning and an alternative one at night. The fact I have access to all the kitchen facilities without Gracie coming in with one of the babies on her hip has me grinning from ear to ear. This place is fucking perfect, and I most definitely will be taking this industrial-looking smoothie maker with me when I leave. It churns a batch out in one go, and the fact that Ford has paid for it is even better. Poor bastard doesn’t realize what a dipshit he is.
