Page 49 of Disarming Caine

He squeezed my arm and left.

I hauled out my phone and sent a text to Elliot,Want to talk about smuggling ring.

Before I could slip it back into my pocket, he texted back.I’ll be at Brenton PD Tues morning. 10am work for you?

I responded in the affirmative and got back to my claim.

How could I make time speed up to Tuesday, but still have it slow down so I had more time with Antonio? And how was I going to focus on him when I had so many unanswered questions?

Chapter 17

Antonio

Seveno’clockhadturnedto eight. I leaned on the railing of my long balcony, watching the traffic ten stories below. It had been dark for hours, streetlamps and twinkling Christmas lights providing a magical glow to the evening.

The woman who was never late was late for me. Was this how life would be with her? Was her man lower priority than everything else?

No. On Sunday, I’d asked for a date night on short notice and she rearranged her plans. I’d showed up unexpectedly yesterday, disturbing her well-organized and busy schedule. But Christmas was in two days, then the weekend. We would have those days together, at least.

A humongous truck—and she made fun of how large my condo was?—pulled into the parking lot in front of my building and the smile crept up my cheeks. Late, but here.

I remained still, the crisp winter air biting through my tuxedo shirt and the stringed melodies of Vivaldi carrying through the balcony door. Samantha exited the vehicle, retrieved a bag from the backseat, and looked up. Her face was in shadow, but I could feel her smile in my heart. She stood next to the truck, staring up at me, and pulled out her phone.

Mine rang, and I plucked it from my pocket. “Who is this?”

She chuckled. “A homeless woman in need of lodging for the evening.”

“My girlfriend should be arriving at any moment. I don’t think she would take kindly to that.”

She hummed. “Maybe I should check with my sister.”

I tsked at her and was greeted by another quiet laugh. “That would be a shame. I have a great deal of wine and some delicious food up here. We may need help finishing it all.”

“Maybe I’ll come up for a nibble, then I’ll leave.”

“I warn you. The nibbling may not be limited to the food.”

“Ooh!” She threw the bag over her shoulder and walked toward the door. “That’s piqued my interest.”

I headed inside, closing the balcony door behind me. White pillar candles flickered from every surface, our only light other than the pot lights in the kitchen. I’d pushed the living room furniture toward the walls, creating a large dance space. Two thick bouquets of white roses and hydrangea adorned the ends of the dining table. “There may be a surprise or two, as well.”

“I hate surprises.” A whoosh of air sounded through the phone as she entered the building.

“Really?” I put my phone on speaker and opened my security app, showing the front door, lobby, and outside of my apartment. When I pressed a button to unlock the door for her, she laughed again.

“That was easy. How do I call the private elevator?”

“Just walk to it.” I straightened the wine glasses and cutlery at her table setting, the small white jewelry box hidden behind her first glass. Surely, she would notice it right away, but how long until she acknowledged it? Another glance at the video feed, and I crossed toward the kitchen, smoothing the tuxedo jacket hanging from the breakfast bar chair. “So, what was that about hating surprises? Are we talking big surprises or small ones?”

She dropped her voice while she waved to Marcus at the concierge desk. “Well, I did get a big surprise last night and it was fantastic.”

I placed the phone on the counter and rolled up my sleeves. As she approached the elevator, I tapped another button and sent it down to her. “And another big surprise in the shower this morning, I believe?”

She spluttered and put a hand over her eyes as she stopped. The bell dinged, the door opened, and she got in. “This is what I call service!”

“Only the best for the homeless woman crashing on my couch this evening.” I threw an apron over my dress clothes, tucked the undone bow tie under my shirt, and turned up the flame on two burners on the cooktop. One to boil water for the tortellini, one to warm the truffle sauce.

“Couch? I don’t even warrant one of the spare bedrooms?”

---