Page 45 of The Mob Boss' Pet

And he’s going to pay.

Chapter Thirteen

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Stephania

Tension twists Vincenzo’s back into tight knots. He’s been quiet since returning to the room. After being sure I had been given dinner, he disappeared into the bathroom for a hot shower.

He’s standing at the sink in the bathroom; I can see him clearly from where I sit on the bed. He’s opened the door, letting a cloud of steam into the room. I’m trying to concentrate on the documentary I’m watching—it’s all about serial killers; a guilty pleasure of mine—but I can sense his tension.

A white cotton towel is tied around his waist, but it doesn’t hide the muscular outline of his ass. Why does a man who spends his life in tailored suits have so many damn muscles? It should be a crime to hide his body the way he does with all those extra clothes.

Although, this is Vincenzo. If it’s illegal, he’ll probably do it just to prove he can. I hear him on the phone when he thinks I’m asleep or not listening. It’s no secret that he’s the head of the Manetto family, but the little details of his business are never publicized.

He dictates every movement of this Manetto machine; nothing happens without his okay. His cousin was killed, and from the way he talks about Sergio to people calling him with condolences, he’s hurting more than he’s showing. His focus has been on Roberto’s healing, but there’s a grief he hasn’t processed yet. And if he doesn’t touch on it soon, it’s going to erupt.

And Vincenzo Manetto isn’t the sort of man I want to see explode.

“Are you watching your show or me?” he calls from the bathroom. He’s caught me spying him as he shaves his neck, keeping his beard tight around his jawline.

I hated men with facial hair when I was younger. But Vincenzo’s has grown on me.

“Did you have a bad afternoon?” I ask, flipping the television off. I’ve missed half of it and will have to restart it tomorrow. I haven’t watched this much television in years.

Vincenzo rinses off the razor and places it neatly next to the sink and grabs a hand towel. He turns around toward me, still wiping his neck with the towel.

“I got information I’ve been waiting for, so it was good,” he says. He won’t tell me anything else, but I’m sure it has something to do with Sergio. Whatever Anton had brought out to him this afternoon is linked, but I won’t push it. That’s not my role here.

And in Vincenzo’s life, everyone has a role. Mine is to keep Roberto on the road to recovery. And to play with Vincenzo when the mood strikes.

“I checked on Roberto,” I say, knowing that I’m admitting to leaving the room without his permission.

“I know,” he grins. “You think anything happens in this house that I don’t know about?” He tosses the hand towel on the counter and saunters out into the bedroom. “You checked on him, talked with Sarah for a bit, then came right back here.”

I throw my legs over the edge of the bed and slide off.

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