Page 66 of Ruthless Mafia Boss 3: Vino and Claire

“Who taught you how to cook like that?” I asked, unable to hide the curiosity in my voice.

Without missing a beat, Vino picked up the whiskey bottle from the counter by the stove and poured a measure of amber whiskey into a cut-glass tumbler. The amber liquid gleamed in the light. “My grandmother. On my father’s side,” he said, taking a slow sip as he moved closer to me. “Every time she came to visit from Italy, I’d end up in the kitchen with her. One day, she told me if I was going to be underfoot, I might as well be useful. She believed it was essential for our special family Bolognese sauce to be passed down through generations.”

There was a flicker of something tender in his expression.

“Even when I visited her in Italy, she made me cook. I remember one time she had me make Bolognese lasagna for thirty people. It was chaos… but she was so damn proud.” His voice dropped to a soft ache. “Grandma Rosina passed away five years ago.. I miss her every day.”

My hand slid gently over his tattooed forearm. “I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” he replied, nodding toward the patio doors.

“Have a seat on the patio. I’ll bring our meal.”

I stood up, grabbed a bottle of wine, and carried it outside, placing it on the table. I walked to the patio’s edge. The view stole my breath. Green stretched endlessly, wild and quiet and beautiful. I lifted my glass and took a long sip, letting the chilled sweetness roll over my tongue.

A strong arm slipped around my waist, pulling me against a solid, muscled chest. My breath caught as Vino’s lips grazed my neck, his teeth nipping the delicate skin. His hand slid beneath my sweatshirt, palm pressed over my stomach like he’d possessively touched me like this for thirty years.

“I love it here,” I whispered. “It’s peaceful.”

He hummed against my skin. “We have about fifteen properties around the world.”

I tilted my head to look up at him. “You and your brother?”

He chuckled. “Vincent has his own. These belong tous,” he said, tapping his finger between us.

My heart stuttered in my chest. “Vino, you don’t—”

“When this war’s over,” he interrupted, “we’ll visit each one.”

He released me with a soft squeeze. “Come on, let’s eat.”

Why couldn’t he keep holding me? Honestly, I wanted to sit in his lap while we ate dinner. That was how close I wanted to be to him. I’d never felt like that about anyone. This couldn’t be normal. Was it love? Or was it obsession? Had to be obsession.

You said you’d harm a woman if she came between you two.

Push those feelings down, Claire. You don’t even know him.

I know he makes me feel so fucking special. My heart hurts.

Shaking the thoughts away, I turned and made my way back to the table. Through the patio doors, I could see his men helping themselves in the kitchen, moving with ease and familiarity.

“I love the rapport you have with your men and how you trust them,” I said, sliding into my seat.

Vino gently pushed my chair closer to the table. “Trust is rare,” he said. “And never guaranteed. I’ve had my share of betrayal.”

My gaze shifted to the three oblong boxes on the table to my left. My stomach flipped. Necklaces, I told myself. They had to be necklaces.

Couldn’t be… engagement rings.

He started spooning the rigatoni onto my plate, rich sauce steaming and fragrant. “One of our bodyguards, Harlem he’d been with my family for years. He brought a rat problem I had to my attention.”

I slid a bite into my mouth and paused.

The Bolognese?

Perfection. The savory richness melted across my tongue like a secret passed down through generations. My eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

“Oh, my gosh, Vino,” I murmured. “That’s insanely good.”

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