Page 35 of Love Without Control

“I know you’re probably used to wearing the Bouvier brand, but all the boutiques were closed by the time I went shopping last night.”

“I do, but I shop at regular stores as well. Everything you bought is perfect. Thank you.”

“Okay,” she said, sliding onto the chair beside her husband. “We’ve got a lot to do regarding appearances. Why don’t we talk about that over breakfast?”

“Are you going to reconstruct my face? If so, I’d like to look like Angelina Jolie,” I teased, drawing chuckles from around the table.

Jamie shook her head. “I’m not going to change anything about the structure of your face, Evie. Your eyes though, they’re your most striking feature, so we’ll start there. Have you ever worn contact lenses?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll teach you. We have a supply of colored ones here. I think brown would be best, if that’s okay.”

I appreciated her asking for my input, attempting to give me a semblance of the control I craved over my own damn life. “That will be fine.”

Robert inspected me as he nibbled on a slice of bacon. “Your look is very classic, Evie. I was thinking we should go a bit edgier with your hair. Shorter and darker. I could even add a lilac streak, if you want.”

Suppressing the grimace I felt at the thought of cutting my hair, I forced a smile onto my face. “That sounds… great.”

Jamie rubbed a palm over her husband’s bald head. “Don’t let the lack of hair fool you. Robert really is good at finding the best styles for people.”

“Do I have to become a cue ball too?” Damiano asked flatly.

Robert grinned at him. “Exactly the opposite. We’re going to let your hair grow out.”

“The broken nose though,” Jamie said, circling her fork with a bite of pancake on the end. “Will you let me fix that, Damiano? I think it could change your entire look. Add in the long hair and a beard, and you’ll be virtually unrecognizable.”

His finger swooped along the crook in his nose. Despite that, he was a very handsome man with his dark hair, olive skin, and cheek bones that would make a model weep. And those lips… gahhh! I mentally scolded myself for noticing.

“If you think it will help, do it,” Damiano replied. “But won’t there be hospital records and staff to worry about?”

“It’s an outpatient procedure, so we can do it at my office after hours,” Jamie informed him. “My surgical nurse is a woman we helped who was in an abusive relationship. Robert and I paid for her to go to nursing school, and she’s become a vital part of our team. Very trustworthy.”

“How many people have you helped?” I asked before forking a bite of fluffy pancake into my mouth.

Jamie hummed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Not sure of the exact number, but it’s a few people per year. We’re very selective, which is out of necessity. We only take people who are referred by someone we trust. Like Rodrigo.”

“Have you heard from him today?” Damiano asked, worry etching lines into his forehead. He really seemed to care about the older man.

Robert gave him a thumbs up. “He texted this morning with the one-word code we use to let me know he’s safe.” A smug smile inched across his lips. “We probably won’t hear from him for a while. He’s shacked up with that cleaning woman.”

“A maid?” I asked, and Robert chortled.

“No, she cleans up…messesother people leave behind.”

Oh.I got the message. “What’s the code?”

I realized that was none of my business as soon as I asked it, but he answered anyway. “Tiramisù, but we change it every few months.”

For some reason, that gave me the giggles. “I love tiramisù. There’s a place in New York my father takes me every year for my birthday that has the best I’ve ever had.”

Robert pointed a thick finger at the man beside me. “Then you’ve never had Damiano’s. I could eat an entire pan of his without blinking an eye.”

“Which would be fine if I was a cardiologist,” Jamie said dryly.

I was still trying to process the fact that the killer beside me could even find his way to the kitchen, much less make tiramisù.

Robert leaned back in his chair, eyes to the ceiling as if reminiscing. “I think it was about ten years ago when me and Rodrigo found you working away in the kitchen, Dame. You couldn’t have been more than fifteen, but you were whipping and stirring like a pro.”

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