Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
When I reach the back entrance to Bella Notte, I smell the comforting scent of garlic and olive oil. My heritage. Eden’s done her best to combine Italian traditions with American comfort food, and even though our clientele is small—the main focus is providing a place for people to meet, our kitchen only an added perk—the feedback’s incredible. My stomach rumbles with hunger, and I'm comforted with the knowledge that Eden is the one overseeing our kitchen.
I wonder what she has in store for us tonight. I don't care what she's cooking, I like eating what she makes. She puts love into everything, and it's evident.
For the first time in a long, long time, I feel like I'm coming home.
I'm not exactly sure what tonight is going to hold. I've held back from her. I haven't wanted to hurt her. But after last night, I realize that my assumption about what she needs has been wrong.
And Christ, does that make my pulse race. She craves what I can give her.
The night is in full swing. I glance toward the kitchen but usually by this time of night, Eden is just overseeing the rest of the kitchen staff. It's unusual for a club like this to have a full-service restaurant in it, but given how much she enjoys this, I'm thinking of expanding.
I almost feel nervous, like I'm going on a date.
I don’t… date.
I hook up.
I fuck.
I dominate.
But this feels different.
I can't tell Romeo I'm breaking off my engagement. Not now, when he's sitting by his brother’s side after thinking he was going to lose him. I will, though. Once things settle down with Mario, I have to.
I wouldn't even know how to explain to Eden why I was engaged to be married. I can't stand the thought of betrayal in her eyes, or anything even close to hurt.
"Boss?" I look up. Gino is staring at me with a curious expression on his face.
“Yeah.”
"So that directive you gave us… forbidding Eden from going anywhere in the club… we still holding fast to that one?"
I narrow my eyes at him. "Yes, unless she’s with me.”
He holds up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Just checking."
She is still not allowed anywhere near that club without me.
“Did she go in without me?"
"I haven't seen her," he says, as if he's the one who's about to get into trouble and not her.
"Good. See that it stays that way. She is not allowed in that club, unless I’m with her."
This time, I'm not afraid that she's going to see something that will scare her. I'm not afraid that she's going to be shocked and run for her life. I'm afraid somebody else is going to want to look at her. Touch her. The main floor is not a floor for couples. It’s an open floor, where anybody who's a voyeur can look on and partake if they so desire.
There will be no partaking.
I'm eager to take her into the club. I have so much I want to show her, so much I want to do with her, and for once in my life it's not just about meeting my needs. I want to show her the world in front of her, and I want her to learn how to leave the past behind her.
I'm not really sure what it is about her… There's an innocence to her I can't quite put my finger on. An honesty that makes me crave more time with her, but more than that… she trusts me. I never knew a relationship with a woman like her was something that would interest me, and I definitely didn't know it was within my reach.
If I'm honest, I still don't. I haven't talked to Romeo.
What’s her plan? Where will she go? I can’t imagine she’d want to stay here forever. Maybe she’s just here to get on her feet again.
I can't let myself think about the fact that this might be temporary. I've never cared in the past about relationships remaining casual, since they’re all I’ve ever had. I never cared about the other person’s feelings. I told myself that if they got what they wanted—money, attention, earth-shattering orgasms—it didn't matter.
Am I getting soft in my old age? Christ, I hate when I don’t know the playing field.
I scowl at my phone when it rings, and answer it with a growl.
"What?"
Timeo answers me. "Mom wants you home tomorrow for dinner. Seems like the Rossi clan has left the North Shore to come and congratulate you on saving Mario's life. Good job, asshole."
Though there’s real pride in his voice, there's an unspoken rule that we don't get all mushy with each other. If he did, I'd have to kick his ass right now, so I'm glad he didn't go there.
"What time? Why didn't she ask me?"