Page 63 of The Price of Power

“From scratch, at least,” she said. “Everything before this came out of a box or a can.”

“Which doesn’t count,” Letizia broke in, waving her spoon judgmentally in the air.

Liv waited until the housekeeper’s back was turned before leaning in and whispering. “They sure felt like they counted when I was eating them.”

That’s when I knew that, despite her exasperated sighs and groans, my housekeeper secretly loved Liv. If Matteo or I had made a comment like that, she would have jumped down our throats, but with Liv, she simply pretended not to hear.

“You never baked with your mother or grandmother?” I asked.

“We were more of a take-out kind of family,” she explained with a shrug.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Letizia commiserated from across the kitchen, already back to rolling the cornetti with practiced ease.

“That wasn’t a complaint,” Liv clarified.

“Well, it should have been,” Letizia said.

“I don’t know.” Liv leaned against the counter, lazily crossing her arms as if to signal that she was giving up on the baking exercise. “Chicago has some excellent restaurants.”

“Chicago?” Letizia’s head popped up, her white hair bobbing over her shoulders. “I thought Mr. Gabriel said you were from Milwaukee.”

“That’s where I live now,” she clarified. “But I grew up in Chicago, and my family still lives there.”

“Hmm.” Letizia’s head tilted to the side as she made that quiet, judgmental sound everyone in this house knew so well. “Maybe if they had fed you better, you wouldn’t have moved so far away from them.”

Liv let out a long breath.

“I wish only wish it were that simple,” she said before turning her attention my way. “So what are you doing home so early? I never see you before eight o’clock.”

Usually, that was true. But today, I’d finished a meeting with a couple of my capos early. I could have gone down to the waterfront to check on a few guys who were waiting on a shipment, but I decided against it.

I wanted to come home instead.

No, that wasn’t entirely true.

What I wanted was to be with Liv.

“I thought I’d surprise you,” I answered. “I know it’s not a tray of misshapen pastries, but hopefully, you’re still happy.”

“Of course,” she said with a genuine smile—one that warmed that spot right in the center of my chest. “Though, I’m going to need to take a shower before we go out. Look at me. I’m covered in flour and sugar.”

“Actually, I was thinking we could stay in tonight.”

“Really?” Her brows shot up, arching high. Then, with an expression of mock concern, she stepped forward and placed the back of her hand against my forehead. “Are you feeling all right? You don’t have a fever. But I can’t imagine anything else that would keep you from going out.”

All joking aside, she wasn’t wrong. There was something odd going on.

I hadn’t been able to get her out of my head all day. In every meeting, every conversation, she was always there in the back of mind. The pull I felt toward her bordered on distracting.

And I was never distracted.

I figured whatever this bug was had to be temporary. Like any cold or flu, the best thing I could do for it was to go back home and take the problem straight to bed. It might not be restful, but I figured after a good night of rolling around in the sheets I’d be better in the morning.

“Even I need a night in sometimes,” I told her.

“Well, you picked a good night for it,” Letizia said. “I’m making osso buco for dinner.”

“That sounds delicious,” Liv said. “Do you want any help?”

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