Page 33 of Promise Never

“I’m fine. I told you there was no need to callhim.” I catch myself. My frustration is making me mean. Getting a grip, I sayin a kinder tone, “Thank you.” I glance at the container and shopping bag inhis hands.

Alessandro reaches the container to me. “Dinner,courtesy of my mother. It is caponata. Very tasty.”

“Thanks.” I accept it without touching him.

He raises the shopping bag next. “Alsofrom my mother.”

“Look, I don’t want gifts from her,” I grumble.

He huffs an exasperated breath. “It’s only a fewthings. I noticed you don’t have much, and I honestly don’t know when I’ll beable to stop Zeno.”

“Fine.” I pluck the bag from his hand. “Tellher thanks. What about the guy your guards grabbed? Didyou get any info out of him?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“I could try to—”

“He’s dead,” he cuts me off. “So, no. You can’t seducehim into helping you.” I swear there’s a jealous tinge underneath.

“Geez.” I purse my lips. “I wasn’t going to dothat.”

“No?Soyou would have kickedhis ass then?” His low and deep chuckle stirs warmth between my thighs.

Shit. I have to get a handle on these emotions.

Staring at my neck again, he asks, “Do you needanything?”

“Not from you,” I scoff.

“Cristo.” He throws his hand up as if irritated. “Buonasera, Tiana.” He turns to walk away.

“Wait,” escapes my lips before I can stop myself.

Alessandro halts, surprise veiling his face whenhe pivots to me.

My shoulders slump at the realization that it’ssilly to keep treating him so horribly when he’s only been trying to help.

“Look, I know I said we shouldn’t, but...” Iinhale and exhale deeply, then tell him, “Okay, I admit it. I want to talk tosomeone. Right now, it’s just you.”

His bodyrelaxes, andunderstanding fogs his intriguing eyes. “All right.”

I back up into the house for him to enter.

Setting the shopping bag on the sofa, I grab waterfrom the fridge and say, “Let’s sit by the pool. I like it out there.”

Alessandro follows me to the back and sits acrossfrom me once I settle at the table to eat.

“Your mom’s a great cook,” I praise after baskingin the deliciousness of her caponata.

“Grazie. On our worst days, her meals would makeus smile.”

Curiosity about him blooms.

“What was your father like?” I ask before havinganother forkful.

He braces forward and clasps his hands on thetable. “Tough. We had to be as well.” I have a feeling Luca got his ways fromtheir father.

“What about your younger brother, Enrique? Wereyou close? Do you miss him?”

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