“That’s what you said.”
“Holy shit!” I’ll be a multi-millionaire before the end of summer.
I jolt at the slap on my butt.
Benny winks. “Go to bed, Trouble. You’ll need your energy.”
Chapter 27
Hookin' at the Market
Salvatore
“Showing you my business requires us to go inside.”
Bianca peers up at the buildings behind me. “Is it safe?”
“Not with those sandals once we get in the warehouse, but you can wear my steel-toe boots,” I say.
“No.” She scans the lot. “I mean, is itsafe?”
I lean into the car. “Why wouldn’t it be safe?”
“The mafia, Benny,” she whispers, like a sniper will spill her brains the second she gets out of the back seat. “Don’t we need more protection?”
I’d laugh if she weren’t serious. Her nails might draw blood from the leather cushions if she digs any harder.
I bite the inside of my cheek at her sinking lower to the ground.
“Trouble, look at me.”
She ignores me.
“Bianca,” I say, meeting her eyes. “You wanted to get out of the house. That requires you to leave the car.”
“What if someone is waiting to off you and I get taken out? You should have more security, armored cars—stop laughing!”
I holler so loud that Aldo, my driver, pops his head out of the car to check if I’m okay. I’ve never laughed this much and find the sensation odd.
“Love,” I hiccup through a breath, the term of endearment too common when I’m around her. “Most crime families keep a low profile in public. I have security you don’t see, but I don’t like people in my personal space all the time. I made an exception for this woman who insists on dodging imaginary bullets.” I dodge her slap. “Judges and police are cracking down on mobs and mafia districts. Unless someone wants to spend a hundred years behind bars, you’re safe.”
I pry open the door Bianca attempts to close and pull her out. “I told you I’ll keep you safe, right?” I kiss her pouted lip. “Trust me to take care of you.”
“Okay,” she says lowly.
A breeze threads through our hands, which I lace together before kissing hers. I can’t keep off of her and haven’t since last night’s agreement. Any reason to touch her, I take it, which surprises me as much as her.
The receptionist does a double take at Bianca when we walk in. She takes in her braids, high in a ponytail, and the pink-and-white dress that hugs her breasts and flirts with her knees. I introduce them and take Bianca down the hall to my office.
“Is your staff usually this nosy?” she asks, in English, about people poking their heads through open office doors.
“I’ve never brought a woman here. You’re also stunning, Trouble.” I wink, unlocking and opening the door for her to enter.
“You ship here?” Rays of light skim the Port of Catania, decorated with docked boats and cruise ships.
I turn on my computer. “The shipping containers are across the street. We import and export goods along with the fish we distribute wholesale.”
Bianca glances at the closed door. “Is this one of your legitimate businesses?”
