“Anything else, Ms. Vitalio?” he stared at her, his voice dropping dangerously close to sin in the whiskey. It did things to her, that voice of his.
She leaned forward, feeling brazen. “I'm just getting started, Mr. Caine.”
"I thought I finished you off pretty well." He sipped on the juice, his tongue coming out to catch a drop at the side of his lip. Her eyes tracked the movement before going up to his. Her throat went dry.
“Eat,” he instructed and Morana complied, knowing it wasn’t the right time to play that game. He had badass mob stuff to do and she had nerdy mob stuff to do. They didn’t have the time.
His phone buzzed and he took it out. Whatever text he saw had him gulping down his drink in one go.
“I need to leave,” he informed her.
Morana nodded. “Don’t worry about the dishes.”
He gave her a slightly blank look like dishes had been the last thing on his mind until she brought it up, and she felt her cheeks flame.
“Lock up after yourself.”
With those abrupt words, he was gone. No ‘have a nice day, darling,’ or ‘I’ll be home before dinner, sweetheart’. Nope, not for him.
Her phone vibrated.
Tristan Caine: Stay safe.
Smiling, Morana dug into her breakfast.
Morana: You too.
Opening another window, she quickly texted Dante.
Morana: Would it be possible to have a pair of shoes delivered to Tristan’s place from the mansion? I kinda didn’t think of them last night.
Dante Maroni: Of course. I’ll have them sent in 10 minutes. Drop by my place afterward.
Morana: Thanks. See you in a few!
Finishing her breakfast, she cleared up the dishes and organized the kitchen, perusing through the list on the refrigerator, seeing Tristan’s handwriting for the first time. The strokes were surprisingly straight, the scrawl masculine and bold. Shaking her head, being careful on her feet and being light on them, she pocketed her phone and hurried up to the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Two locks clicked into place and she headed to the main door just as a knock came.
Swinging the door open, she found Vin on the porch carrying a shoebox with him. He didn’t even blink at her wearing what was clearly Tristan’s clothes.
“Good morning,” Morana greeted him with a slight smile.
He nodded, silently handing the box to her, stepping back and waiting. Morana frowned. “Um, I’m sure you have better things to do.”
“I’m supposed to escort you, Ms. Vitalio,” Vin informed her in a quiet voice. “Orders.”
“Whose?” she asked, taking out her simple, comfortable black bellies and slipping them on her feet.
“Mr. Maroni’s,” he replied succinctly.
"Which Maroni?"
"Dante."
Nodding, she stepped out into the fresh morning air as well, making sure the door was locked behind her and the alarm was on. That done, she started towards the direction of Dante’s house, Vin silent behind her.
“Did you go into my room to get the shoes?” she asked, both to break the silence and because she was curious.
“Yes, Ms. Vitalio,” he said, facing forward. Morana studied the grim man, definitely younger than Tristan but older than her, his hair cropped so near to his scalp it was almost shaved, and she tried to picture him ruffling through her very feminine closet for footwear.