Page 119 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

“You don’t have to get up.”

“I’m okay,” I say, yawning.

He shifts closer, his hand sliding along my leg, fingers brushing back and forth.

“I’ll be in my downtown office all day,” he says. “I should be back around six.”

“We’ll eat together?” I ask.

He smiles. “Yes. I told Beatrice not to let anyone bother you until you’re ready to get up. Bella’s coming with Sal at noon.”

He brushes my hair back away from my face and kisses me softly. He stands, but I grab his wrist. He leans back down, his hand on my jaw this time as he kisses me again.

“I’ll see you tonight, Doll.”

I nod, and he’s already walking to the door. I touch my lips where he kissed me, wishing it was dinnertime.

I try to go back to sleep, but it’s pointless. I spend the next hour flipping over, pulling the covers up, kicking them off again, staring at the ceiling. Finally, I give up and get out of bed. I wander into the bathroom and start opening drawers. The right side of the counter is obviously Michael’s. Everything is lined up perfectly. There are colognes, razors, and aftershaves. It all looks expensive. There’s even a set of products for his mustache. That makes me giggle.

I move to the left side and open those drawers and stop. There are lotions, deodorants, creams, and even makeup, all organized and untouched. All for me. He didn’t only buy me clothes. He bought everything I could possibly need.

There’s even fancy shampoo and conditioner for curly hair. I let out a quiet breath, staring at it all. Is it too soon to tell this man that I’m in love with him?

I shake my head and grab the body wash and a loofah, along with the shampoo and conditioner, before heading to the shower. I set everything inside and undress. When I step in, I turn on one of the shower heads. The pressure is perfect, and I almost laugh.

After I finish, I wrap a towel around myself and walk into the closet. I run my fingers along a few dresses before moving on. I am not in the mood for that.

I shift to the tops and pants and take a second to actually choose. My hand settles on a yellow linen button-down, something that feels easy the second I look at it. I already see it tied at my waist, sleeves rolled. I pull it out and grab a pair of white jeans. I look down at the clothes in my hands. I could get used to this.

Chapter 42

Michael

Istep out of the SUV and onto the sidewalk, the city already moving around me. Traffic crawls, horns cut through the air, and people pass without looking twice. The building rises in front of me—Amato Tower.

Inside, the shift is immediate. The noise is more controlled. Phones ring, voices stay low, and heels strike the floor in a steady rhythm that never breaks.

“Good morning, Mr. Amato.”

“Morning.”

I don’t slow down. The elevator is waiting by the time I reach it. I step inside alone and press the button for my floor. The doors close, sealing everything out for a few seconds. I adjust my cuffs, glance at my reflection. Nothing out of place. There never is. The doors open, and I step into my floor.

“Morning, Mr. Amato.”

“Good morning.”

“Morning.”

It follows me as I move down the hall. My office doors are already open. There are floor-to-ceiling windows with the city stretched out beneath them. I step inside, set my phone down, and shrug out of my jacket. I drape it over the back of the chair before I sit.

The tablet lights up under my hand. I pull up my calendar first, then move to the numbers. Shipping reports, distribution timelines, and contract renewals fill the screen. My phone buzzes once against the desk, but I ignore it.

I move through the first report, scanning, adjusting, and making decisions as I go. A shipment rerouted through Oakland gets flagged. I approve the adjustment and send it through. A supplier contract comes up for renewal. I cut the margin and send it back.

The phone buzzes again. This time, I glance down at it. It’s Katie. I pick it up and see a picture. She’s standing in front of a mirror with her head tilted slightly, one hand resting at her waist. A yellow linen top is tied at her middle, and white jeans fit her clean. Her curls are damp, falling over her shoulder.

My jaw tightens.