Page 10 of Stranded with My Mafia Boss

He grunted in response.

"Something to do later?" We were gonna get bored. The power wasn’t coming on anytime soon. "Candlelight can be quite cozy, right?"

Damien scoffed, clearly unimpressed by my attempt at small talk.

Undeterred, I continued, "You know, they say that during times like these, people used to tell stories around the fire to pass the time."

He gave me a very level look. "Most of my stories would probably give you nightmares."

Someone was in full grumpy mode again. I opted not to answer and glanced down at my phone, putting it in power save mode, just in case. It was a little after one in the afternoon. Amazing how dark it could get during a blizzard, even in the middle of the day.

"Speaking of fire." I turned toward the kitchen. "It's my turn to cook. You can relax while I whip up something for us to eat."

"Fine," he muttered, sinking into a plush armchair near the fire. He watched me move about the kitchen, his gaze never straying too far from my movements. Every time I glanced his way, he was staring. It was hard to concentrate on food when he looked at me like that, like he was putting me on his mental menu.

Luckily, bread, cheese, and butter would make grilled cheese, and there was some canned tomato soup in the pantry. Which was good because grilled cheese was about the limit of my cooking skills. I lived on frozen food and sometimes takeout now that we had a little more money.

His freezer and fridge were full of what looked like nutritious food, but I had no idea how to cook it.

Thankfully, he had a gas stove, much like the balky one in my apartment, albeit way newer. The spark on mine didn’t work half the time, so I was used to using a lighter to get it going. I had it fired up in record time and glowed a bit at the demonstration of competence in front of him. I, too, could fend for myself.

"Hey, look on the bright side," I said cheerfully, assembling the sandwiches. "At least we're snowed in with plenty of food, right?"

"Thrilling," Damien deadpanned, but there was the faintest hint of an amused spark in his eyes.

"Come on, Mr. Santini." I flashed him a warm smile as I spread butter on the bread and put the pan on the burner. "It could be worse. We could be stuck out there in the storm, freezing our butts off."

"True, I guess," he said, his scowl softening ever so slightly. "But I still don't like being cheated. I paid for the generator to be serviced and functional."

"Sometimes you just have to roll with it," I said. He snorted but relaxed into the chair. "Think of it as a short break. This won’t go on for long."

"Maybe you're right," he said, and for a moment, the tension between us eased. The crackling fire, combined with the flickering candlelight and my attempts at cheer, slowly chipped away at Damien's anger. Definitely a good thing. People died when Damien got really angry.

I set the water on to boil and brewed tea as I warmed the soup and flipped the sandwiches. The enticing scent of melted cheese competed with the rich aroma of freshly brewed tea in the air.

"Smells good," Damien said, his voice still gruff, but slightly softer than before.

"Thanks." I plated the food as I tried to quell my nerves. Being around Damien made me nervous in the office in broad daylight. My knees wanted to quake right now. "Come to the table, it’s almost ready."

Damien eyed the food warily before picking up the sandwich and taking a tentative bite. As the flavors exploded in his mouth–the tangy cheese, sweet tomato-ey soup, his grumpy demeanor started to crack. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then looked up with a hint of amusement.

"Damn, Katie, this is good," he said, his tone begrudgingly impressed. "I’ve never had this. Not a traditional food in my parents’ house."

"Thank you." Sweet relief. Damien not hangry was a good thing.

As we ate, the warm firelight and flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across Damien's face, softening his features. The sight made my heart race, but I forced myself to stop noticing those sorts of things, focusing instead on our conversation.

Easier said than done.

"Did you ever think you'd end up snowed in with me?" I smiled at Damien as brightly as I could, hoping he’d perk up even more. This was already about as cheerful as I’d ever seen him.

"Can't say I did." He picked up the other slice of his sandwich. "But I've had worse company."

"I’ll take that as a compliment." I bit into my sandwich and nodded decidedly.

"Take it as you will." He arched one eyebrow. "A quick question. Does your mother still use your surname?"

Danger! Danger! All my instincts shrieked at once. Why did he want to know that? What was he thinking?

---