“I could log you into my Netflix account.”
I lift one shoulder. “Maybe tomorrow. I still have all the lower cupboards to reorganise.”
He starts unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt and rolling up his sleeve. “I’ll help you get this sorted.”
“You will?”
He arches an eyebrow. “If your ovaries can handle it, that is.”
“My ovaries can handle anything you dish out, De Luca,” I scoff.
He barks out a laugh, moving to the other sleeve. “Are we washing everything or just moving shit around?”
“All of the above,” I state.
I’m currently sprawled out on the lounge watching365 Daysand using Ki-Ki’s middle section as a pillow. I was struggling to find something to interest me, but then I stumbled upon this one, and hot damn.
I’m completely engrossed in the current scene that I don’t notice Romeo has stepped into the room until I hear his audible sigh. I pick up the remote and press the pause button before dragging my eyes away from the television.
Massimo Torricelli, played by Michele Morrone, is so dreamy and had my undivided attention until my real-life bad boy entered the room. Romeo De Luca will always take precedence.
He’s hotter, beefier, and ten times more dangerous. He’s the real deal. Not someone acting tough for the cameras. He’s a man who’s lived through the kind of darkness others only pretend to understand.
“Is there a problem?” I ask, watching him carefully.
I’ve settled into a strange sort of calm living here with him, but the threat of Giovanni Salvatori still looms, always lurking at the edges of my thoughts as I find myself wondering if and when he will strike.
“What is my dog wearing?” he asks, in an exasperated tone.
“One of my T-shirts,” I answer with a shrug, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re having a lazy pyjama day, and since he didn’t have anything to put on, I lent him something of mine.”
Romeo rolls his eyes. “You’re ruining him, you know.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s a T-shirt, not a frilly dress.”
“A pink T-shirt.”
“Dogs are dichromatic. They can only see two primary colours, blue and yellow. They can’t distinguish between red and green. Since red is mixed with white to make pink, he would see it as a shade of grey or dull white at best.”
“Is that true, or did you just make that shit up?” he asks accusingly.
“It’s true. I read it in a book.”
“Of course, you did,” he retorts, turning to leave the room.
“Hey, Romeo.”
“Yeah,” he replies, pausing but still giving me his back.
“Do you own a boat?”
“A boat?” he asks, spinning back around. “Why?”
I unpause the show I’m watching and motion towards the television screen. It’s right at the part where …
“What the fuck are you watching? Is that porn?”
“No, it’s a love story about a Sicilian Mafia guy who kidnaps a woman and gives her three hundred and sixty-five days to fall in love with him. It reminds me of us. Accept without the boat, obviously.”