Page 34 of Caesar DeLuca
“So you’re sure everything’s okay up there?” Mrs. Bev asks from her end of the phone. “Say the word, and I’ll send Craig up. You must be running low on supplies.”
“No… actually, not even close. I’ll be fine for a while.”
“I hope if you did need help, you’d say something.”
“I would,” I reassure. “No need to send Craig.”
Mrs. Bev and I hang up in another few minutes. She grumbles one last time about the power outage and how it makes it even harder to keep Mr. Craig productive, then makes me promise I’ll call her tomorrow.
For the rest of the afternoon I spend my time rearranging the pantry.
Anything to avoid Caesar and the thoughts he inspires.
I rearrange the cans and boxed goods in alphabetical order. I clear out items that are old and expired and even reorganize the bottles of wine I have. The last bottle—a twenty-year-old bottle of cabernet—I keep for myself.
Fishing a corkscrew out of the drawer, I pop open the cabernet and pour a glass. I’ve never been a big drinker, even wine, but every so often, it feels warranted. Given everything that’s been going on, I deserve to indulge.
I’m halfway through my first glass when Caesar pads into the kitchen. I freeze with the glass against my lips, half swallowing another sip.
Caesar’s grown finer if at all possible. As he’s healed, his skin’s regained some color and he’s carried himself like the intimidating mafia boss he is. No slouching, no teeth chattering, no pale and clammy skin.
He’s a man as deadly as he is handsome and sexy. He pins me with one of his signature stare downs and stops a couple feet away. If he wanted to, he could snatch me up; he could have me wrapped up in his arms, on the verge of passing out.
Keep your cool, Ari. BREATHE.
Caesar either understands how reactive my body is to his, or he’s experiencing the same about me. Either way, there’s a mutual energy exchange between us.
He tilts his head to the side. “Are we going to address the elephant in the room?”
“Wha… what elephant? You’ll have to be clearer?—”
“How about a glass?” He juts his jaw at the glass of wine in my hand.
“Oh. Right.”
I set mine down to grab him one and pour from the bottle. In the few seconds I’ve turned my back to do this, he’s whisked my half full glass off the countertop and tossed it back. My right brow arches before I settle on the fact that we’ve switched glasses.
I refresh the glass he’s stolen from me and then pour myself some in mine.
For a few sips, we drink in silence. I’m savoring the tart flavor of the wine and sorting out what I could say, and he seems to be doing the same. I’m stuck on the fact that he’s so cavalierly drinking from the glass I’ve spent half an hour nursing.
His lips graze across the rim of the cup where mine had been seconds ago.
He maintains eye contact. He stares me down like there’s nothing else worth viewing in the room. I’m the only thing he sees. I’m the only thing on his mind.
…and he wants to make it clear that I am.
I swallow another sip of wine and feel how it ignites a fire in my belly. A sense of warmth lights me up from the inside and flushes onto my skin.
“Go ahead,” I say. “Tell me what the elephant in the room is.”
“You’ve been avoiding me all day long.”
“Ever think maybe you’re the one avoiding me?”
“You have a problem with me. Am I making you uncomfortable?” He asks the question as he closes the gap between us. The space between us cuts in half as he stops within reach of me.
Already I feel cornered. I feel trapped by him. I’m on the brink of falling over the edge. I’m about to give into the pull between us.
