Page 90 of Possession

Unearthing the thumb drive had reminded Grace of everything she didn’t know about the grandmother she loved, likely way more than she ever had. That was the way of parents and grandparents and children, though some more than others, of course. Adding in all the markers that seemed to point to Annabelle’s possible illegal activities and Grace knew not only her grandmother would be dead at the end of this.

Her view of her as an angel, as her savior, would be dead too.

I cupped her head and brought her as close to my chest as the tight confines would allow. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

The words rumbled out of me, and I wasn’t sure she even heard them because they were based more on pure emotion than actual sound.

But she nodded and clung tighter.

“Whatever we find, I’ll be with you.”

Again, she nodded and pressed her wet face into the space created by the opening of my coat. Right near my throat, where my pulse was jackhammering way too fast.

She was like a shot of adrenaline straight to my veins. The need to protect, to shelter, to shield was as overwhelming as the desire that sprang up between us like lava at the slightest opportunity. Instant and overwhelming.

I stroked her hair and straightened her scarf. “Do you like lasagna?”

She was still crying softly, something I felt more than could see clearly in the dark. But she still laughed and nodded, bumping my chin with the top of her head. “Only if it has extra ricotta.”

I reared back and tipped up her head. “Did you just pronounce that ree-cot-a?” I sounded out her version of the word and shook my head in mock disapproval.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because that is laughably far from the correct Italian pronunciation.” I sounded out the proper Italian pronunciation and waited for her to repeat after me. But she just snorted out a laugh.

“You call it what you want, Mr. Authentic Italian, I just call it good eating.” She started to slip back but I gripped her wrist.

“Where we’re eating tonight, proper pronunciation is a religion.” I didn’t doubt Dante’s restaurant was as authentic as they came. His mother, God rest her soul, had been a cook to beat the ages. I’d only eaten with the Costas family a few times, but Anna had made every meal an event. She’d cooked at my father’s house when she was in town, taking over the kitchen as if it were her own. Robert had let her, because she’d had a way.

Now her son owned a restaurant. So many circles, begun and completed. So many goddamn links that overlapped, more than I feared I’d ever fully connect.

“Maybe you could learn to cook lasagna,” I mused, pleased beyond measure when Grace thwapped her hand against my midsection.

“You wish, pal. In the meantime, show me to this supposed real Italian food joint. You told me to work up an appetite.” She licked her lips, and a growl thundered through my chest, one that had nothing to do with a longing for food. “I always do as you ask, Sir.”

Then she hopped out of the helicopter and left me sitting alone, straining dick, turbulent thoughts, grin and all.

Chapter 22

Blake

“Tesora mia, I have to say, meeting you tonight has been a real pleasure.” Dante Costas bent at the waist to kiss Grace’s hand, and she blinked up at him as if judging his authenticity as an actual human.

Though I was not a member of the fairer sex, I could acknowledge the man cut an imposing figure in his all-black suit, save a spring green tie. Gone was the awkward, narrowed-eyed, skinny boy I’d once known. In his place was a tall, muscular man with a keen gaze that could rake a person to the bone in ten seconds flat. He had done that to me before even saying hello.

I appreciated his sharp wits and his inability to trust. Right now, I also trusted no one. Luckily, he remembered the close relationship between our fathers and had enough appreciation for the past and family ties to show me the courtesy of a meeting.

Of course, it had been a challenge actually having it with Grace present. I was already fairly certain it wouldn’t happen tonight, but the endeavor wasn’t wasted. Grace had seemed to enjoy every moment of the meal, from the crisp, dry white wine to the leafy green salad to the lasagna we’d both had to try. Then there was the strong black espresso and thick slice of tiramisu she was currently avidly scooping up, now that Dante had finally released her from his thrall. I’d almost reminded her of the cupcakes, but I had decided we could take them to go.

I was spoiling her and myself. I figured I was probably overdue, as I’d never had anyone to spoil before. Not even a pet.

Speaking of…

“Jinx, come here, baby.” Dante turned his attention the slinky black cat who wound around his ankles and waited for him to pick her up. He did so without compunction, apparently unconcerned with the cat hair he would soon be wearing all over his fine designer suit.

The cat eyed me balefully, her green eyes matching Dante’s tie and the tiny bell that hung from a collar around her neck. When I extended a hand, she hissed and jumped down. She streaked away before I could so much as draw back my hand.

Okay, then.

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