Page 12 of The Mafia King's Baby

“Yes?”

“What were you going to say? Before the thunder interrupted?”

He studies my face for a long moment, and I see him wrestling with some internal decision. Finally, he shakes his head slightly. “It wasn’t important.”

I don’t believe him, but I don’t push. Instead, I reach for my wine glass, and he does the same. Our fingers brush as we both grab our drinks, and neither of us pulls away immediately. Thecontact sends a small shock through me, an awareness that has nothing to do with static electricity and everything to do with the way he’s looking at me now. His fingers linger against mine for just a moment longer than accident would explain.

“Celia?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you for this. For the wine and conversation. For making me feel welcome.”

“You are welcome.” The words come out softer than I intended. “I’m glad you decided to stay another night.”

“So am I.”

The simple admission carries weight that has nothing to do with travel logistics and everything to do with the growing tension between us. I should probably suggest we call it a night and retreat to our separate rooms with proper boundaries. Instead, I set down my wine glass and move closer to him on the couch. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Anything.”

“Are you always this mysterious, or is it just the candlelight making you seem like you have secrets?”

He laughs, but there’s something rueful about it. “Everyone has secrets.”

“Some more than others.”

“True.” He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture so gentle and unexpected that it makes my breath still for a second. “What about you? What secrets are you keeping?”

“Nothing nearly as interesting as yours, I’m sure.” I lean into his touch without meaning to. “Right now, my biggest secret is that I’m attracted to my guest, which is probably terrible hosting etiquette.” The admission is honest and slightly embarrassing. I can’t believe I just said that out loud, but the wine and the intimacy of the candlelit room have dissolved my usual filters.

“Celia.” He traces his thumb along my cheekbone, and I close my eyes at the sensation.

“I know it’s unprofessional. I know you’ll be leaving tomorrow and this is probably a terrible idea, and I’m not usually impulsive about things like this.” I open my eyelids to find him watching me intently. “But I can’t seem to make myself care about any of those very rational objections.”

“What do you care about?”

“Right now? The way you’re looking at me. The way you listened when I talked about my father. The way you make me feel like maybe taking risks isn’t always a mistake.”

He moves closer, and I can smell his cologne mixed with the scent of rain from our earlier hike. “You’re not mistaken.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I’ve never met anyone like you.” He cups my face, thumb still tracing gentle patterns on my skin. “Because you bake muffins for strangers and walk ridiculous dogs and create beautiful spaces for people you’ve never met.”

“Those aren’t particularly remarkable qualities.”

“They are to me.”

The words are hardly more than a whisper, but they hit me with the force of a shout. When was the last time someone looked at the ordinary details of my life and saw something worth admiring? When did someone last make me feel like my simple kindnesses mattered?

“Aleks...”

“Tell me to stop.” His face is close enough now that I can feel his breath against my lips. “Tell me this is a bad idea, and I’ll go back upstairs. We’ll pretend this never happened.”

I should tell him to stop. Every rational part of my brain is screaming warnings about getting involved with a guest, about letting attraction override good judgment, and reminding me I know almost nothing about this man who’s somehow become the most compelling person I’ve met in years.

Instead, I close the remaining distance between us and press my lips to his. The kiss starts gently, like a question more than a statement, but when he responds by pulling me closer, gentleness transforms into something hungrier. I thread my fingers through his hair and deepen the kiss, tasting wine and want and something that might be desperation.

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