Page 77 of King of Obsession

‘They’re young, tight, and sexy,’ she’d whispered with a wicked chuckle. ‘All the other women in the facility are jealous as fuck.’

I’d laughed so hard that Mrs. Henderson had come to check on me, offering a glass of water as I chuckled with my grandmother at her naughty, freaky mind.

I’d had to mask my amusement from Alessio when I’d emerged from the Henderson’s farmhouse while hiding my intrigue and curiosity at his mindfulness to me over the years.

What he’d shared and laid down was a confession of sorts that he had some form of feelings for me.

I was unsure how to respond at first becausewhat-the-actual-fuck?

All along, I’d thought the man was out to get me, that he was heartless and ruthless, without an iota of care for me.

I was so wrong.

While he’d never come close nor engaged me, he’d waved his proverbial mafia wand over me for years.

The concept was complex to wrap my head around.

More and more, I saw evidence of his care.

In the way his eyes leaked heat, smoldering each time they aimed at me, how his lips curved and softened when he now gazed at me.

He’d let his mask fall, letting me see his need for me.

It scared the hell out of me.

Not because he was petrifying. Well, he was.

But because of how much it moved me as well.

For some strange reason, it didn’t feel creepy; it was righteous.

Perhaps it’s because he’d been consistent for over ten years, giving me space yet looking out for me and mine.

Part of me was so unsure what to do with the revelation.

Another freakin’ welcomed it like water finding its way over a desert that had been dry for decades.

I soaked it, cherished it in my heart, and pondered it.

Then I shelved it, my mind exhausted from thinking so hard.

I focused on keeping calm and creating a rich, chunky Spezzatino di Manzo, an Italian casserole Nonna had often made.

It was packed with chuck beef and braised until tender in a hearty stew of carrots, celery, mushrooms, and red wine.

I added rosemary and bay leaves for additional flavor and planned to serve it with chunks of crusty bread.

When he wandered back to the cabin searching for things to do, I put Alessio on baking duty.

It meant we stood close together in my kitchen’s tight space.

I began to sense his flirtation ratchet up, heating me as he made slow, deep, timbered statements that left me weak in the knees.

At one point, as he kneaded the dough, thick arms bulging, his tee sticking on him in all the right places, he declared,nailing me with those leonine eyes.

‘Bella to me you’re buono come il pane. It means you’re full of goodness like bread, with a heart of gold.’

Who knew I had a thing for men covered in flour rasping husky, sweet nothings?

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