“Oh my God,” I whispered. Every other man was forgotten for a moment. This man held handmade pasta and sauce. “Please tell me you aren’t joking. I don’t think I’ve ever been with a man who can cook like a boss.”
He laughed. “You really haven’t ever been with a man.”
I squinted at him and crossed my arms over my chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I know most every man you’ve had a relationship with because you do that shit for the family. You’re with me right now for the family. I appreciate it. I see your loyalty. I get your blood is my blood, but those guys weren’t men.”
“And you are?” I challenged him because my hackles rose the moment he talked about my role.
“I’m the man of most men, babe. You’ll see.”
“Hmmm, yes, I guess we will.”
Unpackingmy clothes while Bastian cooked was a little more challenging than I expected. “Where the hell do you expect me to go with my dresses?”
“The closet!” Bastian yelled from the kitchen.
The closet was miniscule. I could barely fit my ass in there, and my ass wasn’t even that big. “Bastian, you’re joking right?” I stalked back down the hallway to glare at him. “That closet is for Harry Potter and belongs under a staircase.”
“Harry Potter?” he asked like he truly didn’t know, and just like that, all my hope for him died. “Never mind. Don’t even tell me. That’s your closet,” he stated like it wasn’t a problem.
“I’ll move your shit to that closet,” I spat back and started for his room.
I heard a pan clatter, and then Bastian was in front of me, faster than a cheetah on speed. “You touch nothing in my closet.”
“What’s in your closet?” I eyed him with newfound interest, my head drawn back a bit in question.
“Nothing of your concern.” His tone was hard and final, a stark reminder that I was a guest at the head of the mafia’s home. He pointed toward my room, and I stomped back there.
“Georgie had a full walk-in closet for me, you know?” I taunted.
“Georgie just about killed you the other night,” he replied, and I smiled at his retort.
Bastian and I were going to get along just fine.
14
Katie
We got along more than fine.
Bastian moved mountains for me when he needed to.
He wasn’t home much, but food was brought in most of the time for me. The days he was home, he cooked. Like, gourmet-meal cooked. He made pesto chicken with arugula and prosciutto one night, and I seriously almost took him to bed.
We’d lived together two weeks, and the man was pretty much a saint every time he walked in. He removed his shoes, was quiet if he returned at night, cleaned up after me and himself. He even let me watch the shows I wanted to. Georgie always had on the news and wanted to talk politics, and Jimmy wanted to watch porn and do things a teenage girl shouldn’t be doing.
Bastian was incomparable to the others. He was like a Stepford boyfriend.
“Want me to change the channel?” I asked one night while he scrolled his phone, sprawled out on the oversize chair near the couch. I realized that a historical romance with a duke telling the main character he wanted to marry her might not be his idea of entertainment.
“This is fine,” he mumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face and sighing as he slid the phone into his gray sweatpants. He’d changed for the night finally, signaling to me that he wouldn’t be going back out.
“Honestly, I can watch something other than a historical romance.”
“The cinematography’s spectacular, and the cast is talented. Plus, I’m intrigued with when they’ll figure out the identity of the writer.”
“You know already?” I asked.