Page 24 of Stroke of Luck

Hopping off the stool, I clutch my prize to my chest and walk back into the kitchen, looking for a toaster.

“Look, if Remo finds out that you got into his stash, he’s gonna be pissed,” Giorgi warns with a worried look on his face. “He never shares those with anyone, hence why he hides them. How did you even know to try looking in something like that?”

I flash him a grin as I jump up on the counter by the toaster and rip open the package to see what flavor is inside. “God, I knew I liked that man. Now I might just love him for this. Brown sugar cinnamon is the only flavor ever worth eating. I’ll suffer through a strawberry, but only when no other option is available.”

Dropping them into the toaster, I hit the button and wait, swinging my feet and humming a happy tune. Giorgi just watches me with a soft smile on his face as he leans against the counter. “You want some milk with that?”

“Only if it’s normal milk. Anything less would be offensive to the flavor profile of this meal,” I inform him, causing him to laugh at me.

“I would never want to mess with the flavor profile—that would be a disaster, and I’m still trying to impress you,” he teases with a wink, pulling out the milk and a cup.

Just as he hands me the glass, the toaster finishes and the perfectly golden tart pops out. Quick as lightning, I snatch one out and bite into the hot, crispy pastry and moan, giving a little happy dance as I chew. When I open my eyes, I find that everyone else has joined us and are all watching me with a mixture of emotions. Enzo smirks, attempting to cover up the fact he’s trying not to laugh, while Paolo just gapes at me like I’ve done something shocking. Othello seems more curious than anything to my reaction, and then there’s Remo. His eyes flicker from the wrapper, to the toaster, then to the pastry in my hand with narrowed eyes.

“How did you get that?” Remo snaps, stalking towards me, reaching out to take the Pop-Tart from me.

I slap his hand away, clutching it to my chest. “Touch the tart and you lose a finger.”

“Where. Did. You. Get. It,” Remo demands, his body tense with his need for my answer.

“Are you sure you want me to disclose where you hid them with the others around?”

“I’m going to have to find a new place anyway, since you know.”

Looking him dead in the eye, I take another large bite out of the Pop-Tart, savoring the taste of victory. Finally, I’ve managed to get both him and Othello to lose control of their emotions, all in one day.

“It won’t matter where you hide them, I will find them. Nothing can come between me and the brown sugary goodness,” I challenge, knowing he can’t outsmart me.

Remo’s look changes from anger to heat as he grips my exposed thigh. “Coniglietto, you are so very lucky that you’re as cute as you are. If it had been anyone else, I would have made sure they knew never to touch my private stash again. For you, all you need to do is hand over the other half and I’ll let it slide.”

“Remmy, are you sure that this is a war that you want to wage with me?” I ask, letting my free hand trail down his chest as I lean in. “You ain’t seen nothing like what I can do. I can make your life hell.”

Snatching up my arm, he pulls me against him, bending down like he’s going to kiss me… then at the last second pulls me off the counter and pins my arms to my sides. Plucking the other tart out of the toaster, he promptly bites it in half, making exaggerated moans of enjoyment.

“Alright, Mister Remington, this means war. You have only yourself to blame for this,” I announce, elbowing him in the stomach and freeing myself from his hold.

A few snickers come from the others as I glare at the brooding man before me, his eyes dancing with excitement at my challenge. “I can’t wait.”

“Baby girl, as entertaining as this is, we do have somewhere to be. We’re already going to be late,” Othello cuts in.

Giving Remo another searing look, I brush past him, knocking him with my shoulder as I pass to where I abandoned my shoes, causing the man to chuckle.

Othello wraps my arm around his and leans down. “I knew that dress would be stunning on you mia regina. Seems I even got the size right.”

“Thank you, but that reminds me we need to have a talk about why all my clothes are stashed in your closet.”

“What is there to talk about? Soon enough you will be my wife and that will be our room even if you choose to spend time with the others,” Othello explains.

Not really having a response to that, we head out the front door to the black limo that’s waiting for us. I duck into the limo, moving down towards the front and snagging a glass of champagne on my way. Othello sits on one side and Enzo on the other in an effort to keep me from causing more trouble, no doubt. Raising the glass to my lips, I take a sip before it gets pulled out of my grasp and Enzo gulps it down.

“Rude! What the hell was that?!” I demand.

“Skittles, you have had nothing but a Pop-Tart, and I’m not going to let you drink on an empty stomach when we have something important to do,” he explains like he’s done nothing wrong.

“Like you said, I had a Pop-Tart, therefore not an empty stomach,” I counter.

Enzo gives me a disapproving look. “A Pop-Tart is not a meal.”

“God, you sound just like her,” I pout, crossing my arms, pushing my boobs up to see if that will help sway him.