“What is it?” she whispers, but I put my finger to her lips. She nips me. I pinch her ass and she giggles against my shoulder, but a moment later she freezes when the war room door opens.
“Fuckin’ millions.” A man’s deep voice, husky and angry. I squint through the dark and recognize the nose that’s been broken three times. Santo.
“Tell me about it.” A woman’s voice. I peer through the dark and see Rosa. She’s brushing off her dress and looking from side to side.
What the hell?
Are they talking about the money? Vittoria’s inheritance?
And why are those two alone?
We wait until the sound of their footsteps fade.
“What was that all about?”
“No idea.”
I pick her up again and carry her into the room.
“I seriously can walk,” she says.
“I know.” I like holding her. I like the feel of her up against my chest. I like the way her head sort of falls against my shoulder, like she’s sleepy, or she… trusts me.
I nestle her into an overstuffed chair and kick back in a chair of my own, taking a pack of smokes out of my pocket. I light one up.
“If we’re getting married, you have to quit, though.”
“Have to,” I repeat. An interesting concept, someone telling me what to do. “That’s absolutely not how marriage with me works, babe.”
“Figured as much, but thought it was worth a shot. So of course I can’t make you quit, but I won’t kiss you if you smell like an ashtray.”
She makes me laugh. Goddamn. I’ve never thought of quitting in all these years, but this woman just might tempt me. I take in a drag and hold it, feeling the nicotine calm me. I let out a breath and sigh. “You want some?”
“Nicotine or weed?” she says, eying me curiously.
That makes me chuckle. God, I haven’t laughed in so long I feel rusty. “You ever seen a joint, babe?”
“Well, yes,” she says, but she’s obviously lying. “I mean, of course.”
“You ever smell a joint?”
“Also yes,” she says haughtily. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back. “I’m not a total noob.”
“Noob? What the fuck is a noob?”
“Like… newbie? You know?” No, I don’t know. “I just mean I know some stuff.”
Fucking adorable.
“Here,” I say, handing her the lit smoke. “Take a drag.”
“Uh uh, gross, no way.”
“They’re good. All the way from Italy.”
She wrinkles up her nose. “Smokes, no. Wine, yes. I think it’s cool you guys actually drink the wine in the dining room.”
“Now will you marry me?”
“Still no.”
I sigh and take another drag from my cigarette. “I could make you, you know.” The words linger in the air with an obvious threat. For me, a temptation. Somehow, with Vittoria the words no longer have the appeal they once did.
She nods, and doesn’t speak at first, watching the smoke dissipate. The war room’s old, the ceiling so high the walls seem to absorb the smoke. It’s why I come here when I want to smoke and why my father smokes cigars. When she finally speaks, her voice has softened to an almost sad tone. “There are a lot of things you could make me do, Romeo,” she finally says.
I hold her gaze and beckon to her. “Come here.”
I see the struggle in her eyes, the question as to whether or not she should obey me. I love that.
She’s stunning as she walks over to me in the silky dress that hugs every curvy inch of her, until she stands right where I do. I push off from the desk, take her hand, and lead her to the trapdoor to the basement. She doesn’t show any surprise.
“You’ve been here before?”
“Marialena gave me a tour, but we didn’t actually go down.” I can feel her pulse quickening where my fingers grasp her wrist as I open the small trapdoor and we head to the wine cellar in the basement. When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I flick a light. A soft yellow glow illuminates the room. I toss my cigarette to the floor and grind it out with my heel.
“If you quit smoking, I’ll kiss you,” she finally says.
“You’d kiss me if I didn’t.”
“No,” she says with a toss of her head. “I’d let you kiss me. I said if you quit, I’ll kiss you.”
Ah. Her appeal is devastating, like I’m wrapped in an intangible warmth, light and heat and a spark of something more.
“I enjoyed my last smoke, goddammit.”
Her smile’s worth it.
“Here,” I tell her. I stick a small key in the palm of her hand and close her fingers around it. “Look at this room. Note the location. No one but you has the key to the cellar. If you need to… if anything happens and I can’t be with you, can’t protect you, you get to this basement and lock the door. Stay here and I’ll find you.”