There’s a knock at my door. It’s four in the afternoon, but I’m tired as hell. Tensions between the biggest families in Jersey reached a boiling point while we were gone. The Capobiancos have moved their operation from Chicago and set up shop in Jersey. They managed to get a squeeze on the entire dockyard shipping industry, and if rumors are true, they might be pulling in more cash than even the Morettis are with the shit they are selling to Mexican cartels. That leaves the Bianchis, who have basically been shafted in the whole deal. The other families just see them as mad dogs, too stupid to handle any kind of delicate operation, and it’s true. Not for the first time, I wish I could go back in time and drag Angelo away from these idiots by the scruff of his neck.

When I’ve been working, I’ve managed to get someone to keep an eye on Julia’s apartment for me. When I’m here, I can’t seem to make myself sleep. I wake at the slightest noise or footstep in the hallway, thinking it could be a Moretti coming after Julia and her son. I think about her, and the few times I’ve been with her. I feel a little crazy when I realize how much I care about this woman I’ve probably only spent a few hours with. But fuck it. I know what I want, and I want her.

Someone bangs on the door again, louder this time.

I rub the sleep from my eyes, squinting against the bright sun outside as I move to open the door. Julia stands in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes unsteadily darting from me to the apartment behind me and down my bare chest.

“You...” she starts, and then she frowns when she takes in the whole picture. “What are you doing, sleeping on the ground?”

I glance at the bare floor behind me. I moved into the place three days ago now, but haven’t had time to get furniture. “Pretty much. If you came over here for a booty call, I could see if the landlord has a blanket we can borrow.”

She makes no sign of even hearing me as her eyes dart down my bare chest and stomach, falling on my briefs. “You’re just walking around in your underwear in the middle of the afternoon?”

“You complaining?” A smirk creases my face.

She bites her lip. “I’m not doing this with you. I had to ask my friend to watch Roman for tonight because I need to know what you’re doing. What is this? Why are you here?”

“I’m here for you,” I say.

She shakes her head. “Well you’re about four years late for that.”

I wince, knowing I deserve it. I still can’t help smiling a little when I see her face. “You know you do this thing with your nose when you’re pissed. Just a little wiggle. But you do it when you’re horny, too.”

Her nose wiggles just slightly, and then her cheeks burn red.

I laugh. “See? I can’t figure out if you want to fuck me or deck me.”

She sighs, letting her defenses fall a little as she grins. “So I’m not the only one trying to figure that out?”

I see the heat in her eyes, the way she takes me in. She wants to, I know she does. I’ve always been tuned in to women’s desires. I can see them so clearly they might as well appear in bright red letters on their foreheads. Right now hers would say “fuck me.” A few more words, a touch, a whisper, and she’d be mine. But would it last? That’s the real question. As much as I burn with a desire to take her again, I know she needs more than that. If I give in and take her now, I’ll just be what she thinks I am. That’s not enough. I need to show her I’m more, to show her I’m capable of being in her son’s life, of taking care of her.

She bites her lip and takes a deep, shuddering breath. The moment hangs in the air like something tangible, something I could reach out and grab in my hands if I wanted. But I wait as it passes, diffusing into smoke. She deserves better than that. I won’t manipulate her, and I won’t take advantage of her. I’m going to treat her the way she deserves to be treated.

“Well,” she says, snapping out of the spell.

“Let me take you mini-golfing,” I say.

She gives me an incredulous look. I can practically see her replaying the words over and over in her mind. “What?”

“Mini-golf. You know, putt putt? Unless you don’t think you could beat me?”

She crosses her arms. “Do you really think I’m going to let you bait me? You do remember I have a doctorate in the study of the human mind, right?”

I shrug. “It’s up to you. But it would give you a chance to try and ask some of those questions you’re dying to ask.”