Page 49 of Promise Maker

I know that, and yet the thought of never seeingSolari again hits like a bullet in the chest.

“I refuse to let her go,” I declare. “She stayswith me.”

“Cristo.” Father clucks his tongue and shakes hishead. “Your desire has left you mad.”

“Possibly. I’m heading to the warehouse.”

“Staiattento.”Be careful.

“Hm.” I throw a partial smile over my shoulder.“Sempre, Padre.”

Exiting his office, I walk across the piazzatowards the main entry, halting when Solari enters from the courtyard.

“Domenico.” Her voice is so sweet and calming.

We hold eye contact for a beat until she looksdown shyly and harrumphs. “I’ve hardly seen you since...”

It warms my heart that she’s speaking to me. But Iplay it off. “Maybe because you’ve been hiding from me.”

Her head flies up, and she twists her mouth,acting tough. “I wasn’t…whatever. Anyway, the tutor came earlier.”

“Okay. Is that all?”

Solari huffs, clearly annoyed. “I guess.” Shemoistens her plump lips, and it takes a lot of strength not to charge anddevour her mouth.

Suppressing the need, I say, “See you later then.”

“Where are you off to?” she asks, shifting fromone leg to the other.

“The warehouse.” I make to step outside.

She stops me with, “Can I go with you?”

I turn to her.

“It’s just that…I’m becoming stir crazy. I’m sureyour warehouse will be free from surprise attacks, right?”

“From enemies, yes.” I playfully squint. “I’m notso sure about my hunger. If we’re alone again, I might not be able to controlmyself.”

She dips her head, catches her breath, then looksup again and says boldly, “I’m sure work will distract your mind.”

If only.

The daringlookin herbeautiful cinnamon brown eyes tugs at my restraints. Perhaps going to thewarehouse isn’t a bad idea.

“All right then. Let’s go.”

Solari looks amazed by the aisles of boxes filledwith wine and whiskey.

“How many shipments go out per week?” sheinquires.

“Three. The suppliers restock our inventory twicea week.”

She stalls at a wine casing. “What sort ofbusiness was your grandfather doing before your father took over?”

“Drugs,” I answer honestly.

“It’s a good thing Mr. Martelli changed thingsaround.”

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