“Nothing to be jealous of. Frankie’s as loyal as they come and as social as Ryan on his diet.”
I got up from my chair and met Luca in the middle of the office. Wrapping my arms around him in a tight hug, I sighed. His hugs were next level. “I bet he gives shitty hugs.”
“Let’s not find out.” Luca’s deep voice rumbled through his chest.
I smiled up at him. “He’s probably all ass out and has limp-noodle arms.”
“Exactly.” Luca lightly pressed his lips to mine, clearly in no hurry. “You about done for the day?”
“Just need to finish an email to a client, and we can go, but I need to tell you something.”
Luca frowned, shutting the door behind him and leading me to the couch. “What’s going on?” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.
“I’m being followed.”
His hand dropped, and his stare sharpened. “Come again?”
I stood and went to my desk. “Malcolm came across this file. His brother-in-law is a PI, and apparently, someone paid him to investigate me. To follow me.”
Luca took the folder, silently flipping through the pictures until he got to the last one. “I’ll handle this.”
“Okay?”
Luca set the folder down and pulled me between his legs. “You trust me?”
“Of course.”
“Then don’t worry about this.”
I bit my lip, uneasy by how well he’d taken the information. “I’ll try not to.”
“Good.” He smiled. “You said you had an email to finish, right?” I nodded, and Luca popped my ass, pushing me toward my desk. “Then get to it. I’m hungry.”
The change in mood was jarring, but I had to trust that if there were a problem, Luca would handle it, and if he was Mr. Chipper, it must not be a big deal. “Are you cooking tonight, or are we getting takeout?”
“I’m cooking.”
“Well, hot damn. Give me five minutes.”
Writing an email to a pissy client was very difficult with Luca sprawled out on my tiny office couch. The same couch we’d had a few magical late nights on. But tonight wasn’t the night for hanky-panky.
Once I had everything shut down, we made our way out to the waiting town car. Pete jumped out and opened the door. “Ms. Sasha.”
“Pete. When are you going to drop the ‘miss’ business?”
He grinned, the lines on his face deepening. “Never. After the wedding, if you’d like, I can call you Mrs. Moretti.”
I shook my head, smiling, and slipped into the car.
“I like the sound of that,” Luca murmured in my ear as he squeezed my thigh.
“I hope you like the sound of Mrs. Mitchell-Moretti because all I can promise is a hyphen.”
“Baby, I’ll take you any way I can get you.”
I kissed him, my tongue tracing his lips, parting them. We pushed ourselves closer together, our hands exploring as he wedged his knee between mine.
Pete cleared his throat, and we pulled apart slowly.