“I can’t be held responsible for the family I was born into.” The frustration rolls over his face as he shakes his head. “And neither can she. She has to stop punishing us both for it.”
“Is that what she’s doing?” I wonder. “Or is she simply trying to live a simple life?”
“She’s stubborn as hell, that’s what she is,” Rafe says.
“On that, we can agree. I’ll pass along your message.” I turn to Carmine, who’s remained quiet as he listened to the exchange between Rafe and me. “What time are we meeting with our dads?”
He checks the time and then stands. “In a few hours.”
“You’re meeting with Pop and Igor?” Rafe asks with surprise.
“Yes. We need to talk about the men who followed us in France,” Carmine says. “And I want to do it in a secure place. Over the phone or internet won’t cut it. You’re welcome to join us. Is Shane still in Colorado?”
“I’m not sure where he is,” Rafe says. “He said something about a job in Colombia.”
I raise a brow. “What, exactly, does Shane do for a living?”
“That, we can’t tell you,” Carmine says but takes the sting out of the statement with a kiss to my head. “Let’s go home and freshen up for our meeting. Rocco, we’re meeting at three, at the downtown building.”
“In the office?” he asks.
Carmine nods and sets our dishes in the dishwasher, then leads me out of the kitchen and toward the front door.
I want to ask for a tour of the magnificent house, but I know that we don’t have time. And, at the end of the day, no matter how close Carmine and I have gotten, I’m still a member of the Tarenkov family. There will always be a line. And taking me on a tour of the Martinelli matriarch’s house might be crossing it.
We’re quiet in the car. So much so that I close my eyes and rest. Neither of us slept on the flight here. We even went and laid on the bed, snuggled up, but couldn’t doze off.
We didn’t talk, simply lay there. Restless. Uncertain.
Pissed off.
Someone’s still after us, and we don’t know who. Not to mention, I didn’t like leaving bodies behind in Europe. It was supposed to be a vacation. We weren’t supposed to have to kill anyone or constantly look over our shoulders.
Not that the looking behind you ever entirely goes away, even when you feel absolutely safe.
Because the truth is, being in the mafia means you’re never truly safe.
I open my eyes when Carmine stops the car and then frown.
“We’re not going to the penthouse?”
“No,” he says and turns to me. “I want you here. In my home.”
“I don’t understand.”
“When I first brought you to Seattle months ago, I didn’t want you here because I didn’t trust you. And I was with you for other reasons. It was all a farce. The penthouse was neutral territory, so to speak. But that’s all changed.”
He takes my hand and threads his fingers through mine.
“I want you here, in my house. Not the penthouse.”
“But all of my things—”
“Have been moved here,” he finishes with a small smile. “Come on, let me show you.”
He hurries out of the car, then comes to the passenger side and opens my door.
“You were here once,” he says as he pulls me up out of the car and leads me to the door. “And I certainly didn’t trust you then, either. It irritated the hell out of me that you found me here.”
“Oh, that was certainly the point,” I reply with a laugh. “I wanted to frustrate you that day.”
“You succeeded. But today, I’m inviting you.”
“So, this is your home. And I see that it’s not far from your grandmother’s.”
“No.” He unlocks and pushes open the door and then leads me inside. “I loved spending time with her there. And I came to learn that I liked keeping my personal time separate from work. I like our building downtown, don’t get me wrong. But it’s not home.”
I take in the expansive living space with new eyes. The style is very different from the home we just left, but it’s no less opulent or beautiful.
“The kitchen is gorgeous,” I say as we walk through it. “I enjoyed going through your fridge while you fumed.”
He chuckles and leads me past, showing me guest rooms, a workout space, an office, and finally, his master bedroom.
It’s big, but he’s a big man, so it suits him. “More views,” I muse and walk to the door that leads out to a patio and a lush garden.
The master bathroom and drool-worthy walk-in closet are nothing less than what I’d expect of a man like Carmine, someone who definitely enjoys all of the finer things in life. It doesn’t escape me that all of my clothes and personal things are in the closet, hung neatly.
“You have a lovely home,” I say as he pulls me to him. My voice is sincere. It is lovely. “And it suits you.”
“Thank you.”
“You weren’t kidding. All of my things are in that sexy-as-fuck closet. My shampoo is even in the shower.”
“We won’t be living at the penthouse,” he confirms. “I hope that doesn’t upset you.”
Upset me? No. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little confused as to where this was going.
Then again, maybe I’m just overthinking things. It doesn’t have to go anywhere.
He kisses me, long and slow, as we stand in the middle of his bedroom. “We have time for a nap.”
I smile at the suggestion. “Do we have time for more than a nap?”
His brown eyes narrow with lusty mischief. “Oh, yeah. We can manage that.”
The drive into the city doesn’t take long. With an hour of sleep and a round of lazy sex behind us, I feel surprisingly rejuvenated.
And I’m excited to see my father.
I’ve been in constant contact with him since the incident at the casino in Cannes. He accepted Carlo’s invitation to meet in Seattle—much to my surprise and delight.
Carmine parks in the underground lot of his building. Rather than hitting the button for the penthouse in the elevator, he pushes the one for the tenth floor.
I raise a brow.
“This is the office.”
“Your father’s office?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “That’s on the twentieth floor. Don’t worry, you’ll see. It’s more comfortable. Less imposing.”
When we arrive at what used to be a condo but is now a beautiful office space, I see that he’s right.
Rather than a large desk where an authority figure might sit, there are sofas, tables, and workspaces throughout. Someone stocked the kitchen with everything a person could ever need or want.
The decorations, in muted colors, are perfect for making someone feel comfortable and at ease.
Less than a minute after we arrive, Carlo walks in with Rafe right behind him.
His face lifts into a smile as he shakes Carmine’s hand. “Welcome home, son. Hello, Nadia. You look lovely.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course, she does. She’s the spitting image of her mother,” my papa says from the doorway. “Hello, little one.”