Luciana
My stomach growled. I pressed a hand to it and scowled at the floor, imagining Chase eating whatever he was cooking while burying the bodies. Thanks to Nikolai for dropping me into the twilight zone, where gorgeous men kill bad guys and have so much money that even the law backed down.
Gorgeous men — I grabbed a stack of folders and carried them over to the desk — who are used to getting everything with a snap of their fingers, so they take it.
Then freaking insult it within the same breath.
I thought I was over his words.
I thought wrong.
I’d been exhausted last night, hungry for an apology, and a bit terrified that a man with a cruel smile had offered to buy me minutes after Chase’s mouth was on mine.
A headache started pulsing between my ears.
Great, just great.
I grabbed another deposition and read it over. Nothing interesting.
And then another stack of payouts.
To the Chicago Police Department.
Color me shocked.
Donations to three of the local hospitals.
And a new cancer wing under the Abandonato name.
For kids.
My eyes widened at the number.
Ten million dollars.
Seven zeros.
Damn it!
I dropped the paper and put my hands on my hips. How was I supposed to stay angry at a guy who shot bad men and donated money to cancer wings?
Unbelievable.
I reached for the next folder when the door to the storage room opened.
Chase stood there, shirtless.
His jeans hung low on his hips.
Mouth dry, I focused in on his eyes so I wouldn’t accidentally stare too long at his perfect body.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Poison?” I countered, pointing at the plate.
He smirked. “Close.” He moved toward me. “Chocolate chips, actually. Only poison to dogs and only in obscenely large amounts.”
“Kill a lot of dogs, do you?” I said a bit too breathlessly, making me mentally slap myself for allowing his shirtless presence affect me when I wanted to stay pissed at him.
“No…” Chase grinned. “…only people.”
“Well, that’s reassuring,” I joked, even though I knew it was true, I’d seen it firsthand.
“Isn’t it though?” He winked. “I wasn’t sure how hungry you were so I may have gone overboard.” For the first time since I’d walked into that house, he looked genuinely nervous, as if I was going to throw his pancakes back in his face.
The facade slipped.
The cocky, ‘I’ll kill you for looking at me’ facade.
And in its place, a vulnerability that was impossible not to respond to.
I took the plate and then grabbed the fork and took a huge bite, too huge, but I was starving.
His eyes lowered to my mouth.
“Mmm.” I loved pancakes. I tried not to hate him for finding my weakness so easily. “They’re so fluffy.”
“It’s the duck eggs,” he said in a gravelly voice.
My eyes snapped open. “Duck eggs, really?”
“I may have ducks.”
“Real ducks?”
“No, fake ones that lay fake eggs that I put in real pancakes. Yes, real ducks.” He crossed his arms. “They’re better to cook…” He gulped and looked away. “…to cook with.”
“Do you name them?” I took another bite.
“The ducks?”
I nodded at his curious look. “Yeah.”
“Huey, Dewey, and Louie,” he said with a completely straight face.
“Ah, so that makes you…” I pointed my fork at him. “…Uncle Scrooge?”
“Insulting the man who feeds you?”
“Pancakes hardly make up for threatening to shoot someone,” I said before stopping myself. Great, now he was going to threaten me again.
He tilted his head at me, his expression puzzled. “You’re right.”
“I am?” I almost felt his forehead to make sure he wasn’t feverish; the dark circles were gone from under his eyes, and he looked… more human than I’d ever seen him, which consequently also meant that he looked so beautiful it hurt to stare directly into his haunted blue eyes.
“Don’t get told that often?” he smirked.
I looked away and took another bite, only to realize that I’d literally downed three full pancakes in front of him. Awesome, he’s going to think I’d rather eat than breathe. Only partially true.
Chase grabbed the plate from my hands and set it on the desk near the stacks of all his monetary donations.
Children’s wing. Hospital.
He moved closer.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Killer. He was a killer.
He slept with a gun and had pointed it at me on numerous occasions. Just don’t look into his blue eyes. Don’t look.
“You have some syrup.” His thumb swept over my bottom lip.
I sucked in a breath.
When he lowered his head and then picked up the plate next to me, I could have sworn he was going to kiss me; instead, he was just leaning over.
Stupid, stupid, Luciana.
I’d schooled my features by the time he faced me again. This time his eyes followed my black blouse all the way down to my pencil skirt and stilettos. “You know, you don’t have to wear… that.”
Was he hitting on me?
My eyes narrowed as I put my hands on my hips. “Listen, sexual harassment is a real thing in the workplace. I’m keeping my clothes on, thank you very much!”
He bit down on his bottom lip and nodded his head. “Women’s rights… got it.” He turned on his heel and left the room then peeked his head around the corner and winked. “I meant you could wear jeans and a t-shirt instead of high heels.”
He disappeared again.
I groaned and pressed a hand to my forehead just as he poked his head around the corner again and said, “Oh, and you still have chocolate…” He pointed to the side of his mouth. “…right here.”
I wiped my mouth with my sleeve without thinking.
“Looks like you’ll need to change after all.”
“This is all I have!” I called back to him and got a credit card thrown at my face in return.
I picked it up off the floor. “Um, I’m not letting you—”
“We leave in ten,” was all he said.
And since he had a gun…
And my shoes were so uncomfortable I could cry…
I listened.