Page 6 of Stranded with My Mafia Boss

I checked my phone, and the text was there. Yep, my flight was canceled. Damn it. The private jet couldn’t get back here, either if the commercial was grounded. I was stuck. Nothing to do about it but find another way, then. Maybe I could drive home? How far was it from Aspen to Boston?

A quick search told me about thirty hours. Not really feasible. Damn,damn!

As I typed out a message to my brother, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I was still a little stiff from all the time in airplane seats, but sleep had taken care of most of it.

After a quick shower and a mental note to find where the laundry was in this place, I put on my last pair of clean underwear and another outfit from the closet, this one a long sleeve, button-down silky shirt, and jeans. The shirt had Kiss Me spelled out in cursive glitter on the single pocket over my left breast.

Ugh. I understood why whoever had abandoned it. The shirt was the only other warm thing that really fit me, though. Most of the clothes were too big.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee pulled me down the grand staircase and into the kitchen.

"Good morning," Damien said, already by the griddle with a steaming mug in one hand and a spatula in the other. The five-hundred-dollars-a-pound Guatemalan coffee bag sat by the fancy coffee maker. I ignored a small thrill as I poured myself a cup. At least I got to drink what I’d gone to such lengths to acquire.

Damien quirked an eyebrow. "We are officially snowed in."

"Mmm," I muttered under my breath as I took my first sip. Snowed in with my mobster boss. Sounded like a steamy romance novel to me.

Down girl, focus. No doubt Damien was going to use the time to change my vacation to work from home on a mountain. He wasn’t issuing an invitation for sexytimes.

I was going to claw my vacation back from him, too. No way was I going to spend this time working and not get my vacay back. He’d have to give me the week after Christmas instead.

"Breakfast?" Damien asked, gesturing toward the stove where pancakes and bacon sizzled.

It smelled good but looked like it would set heavy, then glue to my ass. "Yogurt is fine if you have any," I said. "Or cold cereal."

"Unfortunately, I don't have any yogurt or cereal. You’re stuck with pancakes or waffles." He sipped his mug as he waited for my reply.

Another glug of coffee to fortify myself wouldn’t hurt. "It’s fine, I usually don’t eat breakfast."

"A little meat on your bones wouldn't hurt at all." Damien’s blue eyes weren’t cold as they met mine, instead, they had a rare gleam of humor in them. Something I’d never seen at work.

My cheeks flushed with color. "Fine." I took a seat at the counter. The pancakes did look delicious, at least. At this rate, they’d have to roll me out the door if the storm lasted.

Damien’s fluid and precise movements held my attention as he flipped the pancakes and tended to the bacon. His short black hair still shone damp from the shower. I stole glances at his well-toned arms, and an image of him in the shower flickered through my mind in vivid color. Damn it.

"Katie." Damien caught my gaze as though he’d heard my wandering thoughts. He set a plate in front of me. "Breakfast is ready."

"Er, thanks." The pancakes were light and fluffy, flavored with vanilla, with butter and syrup on top. The food tried to catch my full attention, but I couldn’t stop my hyper-awareness of Damien. The way his strong hands held the fork, the muscles in his forearms flexing with each movement, the way his lips wrapped around the bacon strip before biting it off.

I fixed my attention back on my plate. Its contents were safe to look at.

My phone pinged and I checked my texts.

It was from Connor, my neighbor.

Just FYI. Max is having a flare up. When are you due back?

Worry clenched my stomach, and I set my fork down to reply.

No flights out of Aspen right now. Weather says another day until the storm passes. Do I need to try to drive? It’s 30 hours, waiting for a flight might be faster.

He should be ok. I’ll ping if anything happens.

I thanked him then tapped my fingers on the table, frowning.

"Is something wrong?" Damien asked.

I glanced up at him. He watched me, a slight frown on his lips. Was he worried about me? Nah, probably not. "Nothing terrible." I forced a smile. "My brother’s having some symptoms, but it should be okay."

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