Apparently, there was quite a lot.
An extra set of goose-down pillows. A bathrobe in a very specific shade of navy. Fluffier towels. “A few” special items at breakfast.
Fabiana and I had come downstairs that morning to find a full fucking buffet laid out across the dining room table.
If Dominic kept this up, I was going to start charging him a daily rate.
Fabiana had only laughed when I muttered that to her. In fact, she’d looked delighted by the spread, which had taken some of the edge off my irritation. And made me worry I hadn’t been feeding her enough until now.
She would’ve said something about that to me, right? Maybe not.
I’d watched her and Dominic fall into easy conversation over croissants and jam while I drank my coffee and cataloged all the ways I’d failed to make Nettle comfortable in my home.
Ourhome. She wasn’t leaving it. Not in six months, not ever.
She just didn’t know it yet.
I wanted to handle that conversation with care, and that meant waiting until after the vote in a few days. The moment we’d landed, my phone had started to blow up. One of Alvarez’s shipments had been seized by the DEA, and I’d had to deal with that mess on top of negotiating with Dominic.
“You know,” I said to Dominic, “you can read the news on your phone. Like normal people have been doing for the past twenty years.”
Dominic didn’t lower the paper. “Yes, but then you miss the tactile experience.” He turned a page. “The feel of the pages under your fingertips. The smell of the ink and pulp. It engages more of the senses. Turns something mundane into something enjoyable.”
Annoyingly enough, I understood what he was saying.
My brothers—my younger brothers—liked to call me a luddite because I hated spending time staring at screens unless work demanded it. I always tried to print off any contracts I needed to review so that I could read them on paper.
But I wasn’t about to admit to Dominic that we had something in common. The man was already far too comfortable in my house.
“Life is here to be enjoyed, little brother,” he said and lowered the paper just enough so I could see his gray-blue eyes. “Spend a little more time with me, and I’ll show you how to live the Italian way.”
I rolled my eyes. I’d been doing that so often since meeting him that they were eventually going to get stuck facing the back of my skull.
He was annoying as hell, but after spending a good bit of time with him in preparation for this meeting with my brothers, I’d started to develop a reluctant respect for him.
He was sharp. Strategic. And far more reasonable than I’d expected when it came to the terms he was asking for.
The fact that he was family meant something too. I just hoped my brothers would see it the same way.
The sound of voices drifted down the hallway—Romolo’s first, then Alessio’s.
The door opened, and the two of them walked in. Rom wore a plain red sweater like a normal person. Alessio, on the other hand, appeared to have taken Fabiana’s suggestion about Christmas sweaters as a personal challenge. The green monstrosity stretched across his chest had blinking lights sewninto it and three snowmen bumping against each other above the wordsRollin’ with my snowmies.
What the fuck?This was supposed to be a serious meeting. I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“You look like you’re expecting a lump of coal under the tree,” Romolo commented on my expression as he approached.
I sighed. “Sit down.”
Alessio’s eyes went to Dominic, who was folding the newspaper away. “This is the new business partner you want us to meet?”
“Can you just sit down first?” I ground out. “And turn off those lights. They’re giving me a migraine.”
Les clucked his tongue as he reached under the sweater. “You’ve got no holiday spirit.”
“I thought that particular scolding tone of Cosimo’s was reserved exclusively for me.” Dominic smiled at Les like they shared some private joke, which only irritated me further. He hadn’t even met him properly, for fuck’s sake.
Romolo finally dropped into one of the chairs. “Nah. He talks to everyone like that. We’ve all learned to live with it.”
