Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 73663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Ah,” he says as if he understands. “That’s the problem. It’s not the whales. It’s the sex.”
“We did not have sex.”
“But you don’t want him to think we did. Why are you worried over what other people think about our sex life?”
“I’m not, I just—” I take a couple steps back as he comes toward me.
“I didn’t mention anything about a shower to Dante. I would never willingly put that image in another man’s head. If you haven’t noticed, bella topo, I can be very possessive.”
I chew on my lip and stumble over a long, black box. The lid topples off, revealing a dark green dress. “Great, you’re possessive, but you’re still complaining about me. You realize this is hard, right?”
“I realize that.” He stops advancing. “It’s an adjustment for me as well. I promise that I’ll stop talking about you if you promise that you’ll try on some of these clothes.”
I laugh, thrown off-balance. “Why do you care about the clothes?”
“Because I’m taking you to dinner tonight. If I’m going to introduce you to the family tomorrow, I’d like to show you off a little bit first. Let the rumor mill do some of the work for me.”
I look down at the dress again and picture it on my body. The silky folds clinging to my chest and hips. “I guess I’m free.”
“You’d better be. I promise, the meal will be good at least. We’re going to Imperatore, a place my organization owns and operates.”
I take a steadying breath and brace myself on the back of an armchair. I’m still annoyed, but some of my anger’s fading. I like that he’s having as much trouble with this transition as I am, and although I’m still annoyed that he’s complaining about me to everyone that’ll listen, at least it means that he’s human too.
“How about we make a deal. I’ll go to dinner with you and wear a very nice dress, something I think you’ll like, if you promise to let me have the whales.”
He squeezes his eyes closed and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I hate them.”
“My white noise or whales in general? You’re not like a Moby Dick freak, are you?”
“Alright, baby, if you want your terrible noise, you can have it.”
“Wonderful. You’re already a fantastic husband.”
“But I am going to take my fill of you tonight after dinner, and I swear—” He steps closer, staring into my eyes as my stomach does flips. “This time, I’m not going easy.”
He turns and walks out, leaving me breathless and more than a little wet. The bastard.
Chapter 18
Renzo
Isteer Maddie through the front of Imperatore and toward the best table in the house right next to the front window.
She looks incredible in a dark green dress from Givenchy. It shows off her hips and chest, but only modestly, leaving the rest to the imagination. Which I like—I can fill in the gaps by thinking about her in the shower this morning, all that lovely, wet skin, her shapely thighs and perky ass.
My little mouse is gorgeous. I like the way the men in the room stare at her. The Don’s new woman, a nobody, completely unknown, but stunning. They’re all wondering where I found her, and none of them would believe that she’d been hiding under my nose all this time.
“You’re doing great,” I say once we’re seated. I order wine as she nervously picks at bread.
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
“You walked in, looked sexy, and got the room talking.”
“Stop, that’s not true.”
“No? Look around, baby. Everyone’s staring.”
Her cheeks turn red. She glances at the dining room and rolls her eyes. “Nobody’s looking over here at all, you asshole.”
I grin and shrug, leaning back as the waitress fills up our wine glasses. She’s right—our appearance only made a momentary splash—but still. I’m trying to get her to loosen up a little bit, and it’s fun to tease her.
“Alright, husband, you dragged me out to dinner, now it’s my turn to benefit from this little arrangement. I want you to tell me about yourself.”
My eyebrows arch. “Good wine and food aren’t enough?”
“Nope. Talk.”
“What’s there to say?”
“Do you have any hobbies?”
“Yes. Woodworking.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “Really?”
“Really. My father taught me when I was little. He said it would help with my knife skills.”
“Your knife—” She clears her throat and drinks her wine. “Right. Moving on. Do you have any hobbies that aren’t related to killing people?”
“I play golf.”
“Shut up. No, you don’t.”
I gesture with my palms up. “It’s true. There are a lot of older men in my world and they tend to be golfers. I took it up so I could make deals with them.”
She rubs her face, trying not to laugh. “I’m picturing you in a pink polo—”
“I’d never wear pink.” I swirl my wine. “Though salmon—”
“Oh, god, stop it.” She’s laughing, covering her mouth. “A pink polo, white pants, and one of those hats with the pom-pom on top.”