Chapter Seventeen
I woke to the smell of bacon. I’d somehow crawled into bed during the middle of the night. Katrina had been known to put breakfast together when she felt chipper, and I was very grateful for her mood and her hospitality, especially on a work day. I showered and put up my hair, masking the circles under my eyes with some very expensive stage makeup. I was mid-stairwell when I heard a man’s voice coming from the open kitchen. Katrina said something I couldn’t hear above the crackle of pork belly. Then the man laughed.
“Antonio?” I bent around the iron bannister.
“He said I have to call him Spin,” Katrina called.
“Buongiorno! I brought you breakfast.”
I stepped into the kitchen. “I smelled the bacon.”
“It’s pancetta,” Katrina said, picking a few squares out of the pan and putting them on toast. “He’s corrected me, like, seven times already. He’s cute but annoying.”
“Mostly annoying,” he said, shifting scrambled eggs across the pan.
“Annoy me any time.” She folded up her sandwich and slipped it into a bag.
“This is a little presumptuous considering the way we left it last time,” I said.
“Gotta go!” Katrina gave Antonio the one-kiss-per-cheek exit and bounced out with a wink to me.
I crossed my arms, but I was hungry. The pancetta smelled delicious.
Antonio pointed the fork at me. “This suit? It’s nice for a funeral.”
I sucked in my cheeks. I’d chosen a black below-the-knee wool skirt and matching jacket, and he was trying to throw me off in my own house. He looked perfect in a light blue sweater and collar shirt.
“Insulting me?” I stood next to him and bumped him with my hip. “This is how you seduce me?” I snapped a wooden spoon from the canister and poked at the eggs.
“If I wanted to seduce you, the suit would be on the floor already.”
“You don’t want to seduce me?”
He took a piece of egg on a fork and blew on it. “I do, but as you know, we left on poor terms last time.” He held the fork to my lips, holding his palm under it to catch if it dripped.
“And tell me, Mister Spinelli, how do you intend to improve the terms?” I let him feed me.
“By explaining.” He divided the eggs onto two plates.
“What? I can’t hear you over this explosion of delicious.”
He looked genuinely pleased that I liked his cooking, and he counted the ingredients on his fingers. “Salt, milk, parmesano, rosemary, and pancetta, of course. You have all my secrets now.” He put the plates on the center island and pulled a stool out for me. He’d already set out coffee, juice, and toast.
“You’ve buttered me up quite thoroughly.”
He sat and poured me coffee. “A compliment for a job well done?”
“Yes.”
“I appreciate that. But I want to give you the explanation part now, if the taste of the eggs won’t interfere with your hearing?”
“Okay, go ahead.”
He cleared his throat and sipped his juice. “Marina and I were a regular thing until a few weeks ago. She claimed I was distracted, and she was right. So we ended it. Or I thought we did. The other night, I found out that I’d ended it and she’d paused it.” He took a couple of bites of his breakfast then continued. “She comes from the same place I do. A little town outside Napoli. This was a connection between us. She’s a nice girl. I won’t speak evil of her. She took our thing more seriously than I did, and it didn’t break as easily as I’d expected. I’ve spent the past few days making sure she understands. I don’t want any crossover, or however you call it.”
I sighed and put down my fork. “I’m going to be honest. I like you. And I love this breakfast. But if I end up believing you’re telling me the whole truth, it’ll be a conscious decision I’m making. And with my history, that decision takes some effort. I don’t expect or want a commitment, but I don’t like crossover, as you say.”
“I don’t either.”
“And the questions thing? It bothers me.”
“I can’t negotiate that.”
“Then what are we doing?”
“We are enjoying ourselves. Do you object to that?”
“I guess I can live with it for now. It’ll come to bite us, though.”
“Maybe.” He leaned in to kiss me, much of his hardness and cocky arrogance gone. His lips looked soft and sweet as opposed to inaccessibly beautiful. His tongue was warm, slick, moving in harmony with his tender mouth. The smell of a pine forest in the morning, all dew and smoldering campfires, swelling my senses.
I wanted him. His neck, his jaw, his legs between mine. I wanted to suck on his fingers and thumbs. I reached between his legs, and he stopped me.
“This was only breakfast.”
I groaned. “Please?”
“Tempting, Contessa. But it’s been twice, and too hurried both times. The next time we fuck, it’s going to be for a few hours, and you’re going to need to be wheeled out. I’m not cheating you again.” He reached for the dishes. “I’ll clean up. Go get ready for work.”
By the time I’d brushed my teeth and put my hair and makeup in order, he’d finished clearing the island. We walked out the door kissing. I didn’t think I’d ever been so happy. Then I remembered what I’d promised Daniel, and by the time Antonio closed my car door and stepped away, my happiness had been worn away by the friction of reality.
I’d told Daniel it was over, and that had just changed, and I didn’t even know how. I was curious about Antonio’s alleged corruption. I couldn’t be with a criminal, much less a murderer. Not since my first experience at thirteen, which left me scarred and the boy dead, had I encountered a dangerous man. I’d kept clear of all manner of worthless street punk—until Antonio, who could still back off any question he didn’t feel like answering.
We were together. We weren’t. It didn’t matter. I was looking at those books.