Page 50 of King Of Order

‘Nope.’ She grinned, and the tension between us ease. Nevertheless, the undercurrent of attraction thrummed. ‘But, fine. You can install your cameras and your alarms. Just don’t treat me like I’m fragile. I’m not. I’ve got some weapons training, and I took martial arts for my safety in high school.’

I raked eyes over her, sucking my teeth at her defiance. ‘I know you’re not vulnerable nor weak. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna watch over you.’

She gazed up at me, her eyes softening. ‘Don’t forget I can handle myself too.’

‘I won’t,’ I rasped. ‘But that doesn’t imply I won’t be a grumpy alpha hole when necessary.’

She laughed, and the sound was like music to my ears. ‘Fair enough. Only try not to be too crabby. It’s not a cute look on you.’

I twisted my lips, sensing the pull of her, the magnetic force that always seemed to draw us together, no matter how much we argued. ‘Deal. But I need one promise from you. Tell me when you leave the house, and I’ll come with you.’

‘To the office, to dinner with friends, that kind of thing?’ she hedged.

‘Si. I must know at least an hour or two beforehand to shift my diary and prep the car so I can drive you.’

‘You need an hour or two to get prepared? Doesn’t take me that long.’

‘I take my time. I give everything I touch the effort it deserves.’

‘Do you now?’ she whispered.

The air between us flared as she pursed her lips and angled her head.

I sucked my teeth. ‘Always.’

She nodded and added a charming shrug to her shoulders.

It was more than I could handle.

‘I need to unpack,’ I growled over my shoulder, begging off before she roped me into more banter—or worse, ending with us tangled up in each other.

I managed to escape her—Chiara, with her fiery, sexy self—leaving her in the kitchen where she was likely plotting her next move.

She had this way of getting under my skin, not just because of her sharp tongue or defiance.

It was because I wanted her. Constantly. That made walking away harder than I cared to admit.

The guest quarters featured high ceilings, clean lines, minimalism with the latest tech, and an office nook—spacious and set up to work in.

The moment I stepped in, I was hit with the familiar pull of focus as I opened my suitcase and set my laptop on the desk by the window.

The light poured in, framing a view of the olive trees swaying in the distance, the ocean peeking beyond them. It was tranquil—maybe too peaceful for someone like me.

A man honed by the violence and brutality of the mafia world.

I powered on and configured my computer and additional monitoring screens, patching in the property’s security feeds.

The checked that the were cameras running with precision, giving me a wide-angle perspective of the grounds. I adjusted them until I had no blind spots or weak points.

I got into the rhythm of unpacking, putting my shit away. Neat, ordered, the way I liked it.

On occasion, I checked the feeds, and confirming all was quiet, I sat on the couch, took out my iPad, and began working through my inbox.

It was mid-afternoon, enticing me intopisolinotime.

The sun was sublime on my face, and before I knew it, I nodded off.

The following day found me working in the quarters, door open, letting the breeze in.

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