Page 47 of The Temptation
“I got you something,” I say, keeping my voice low and a little reluctant. This woman can be unpredictable at times.
Her eyes narrow as they finally snap to mine, sharp and guarded, before flicking down to the box in front of her. It’s my clumsy attempt at a peace offering.
“What’s that?” she asks, eyeing the box with suspicion.
“A Kindle … so you can get some new reading material. It’s already set up. I even downloaded the book you never got to finish.”
I wince as the words leave my mouth, watching her stare at me with an unblinking and unreadable expression.
Her eyes widen in surprise. “Damien and Rosie’s story?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah, them.”
“You … you actually bought me a Kindle?” she says, her voice caught somewhere between disbelief and curiosity.
“I did. I’ve linked it to my credit card so you can buy all the books you need.”
She arches one perfectly sculpted brow. “Allthe books? You do realise there are millions of books for sale on Amazon.”
“Well … maybe notallthe books, but feel free to get whatever you need to occupy your time while we’re here.”
“You do know I’m a gazillionaire, right? Arabella and Iinherited Papa’s empire after my sister whacked him, so technically I can buy my own books.”
I can’t help but chuckle at how casually she talks about her father’s demise. Aside from Arabella, I haven’t spent much time around women from our world, so it’s a nice change.
Most of my past flings liked the idea of me being in the mob, but they’d probably lose their shit if they knew the kinds of things I’ve actually done.
“I’m not exactly broke either,” I say, shrugging. “But I still want to pay for your books. It’s the least I can do, considering?—”
“You’ve been acting like the funpolizia(Police),” she cuts in, her tone flat.
“Hmm,” I hum, completely unimpressed by her jab.
“Can I buy smutty books?”
I clear my throat. “You can buy any books you like,” I answer, trying really hard to sound unfazed.
The truth is, I’d rather she didn’t read that kind of stuff—because I’m quickly realising that I am a possessive prick when it comes to her—but I’m not about to take away something that makes her happy.Not again.I’ve learnt my lesson.
She looks down at the Kindle in her hand and frowns before pushing back her chair and standing, and my heart rate kicks up a notch because I’m not sure if she’s about to thank me, hit me over the head with it, or storm out of the room.
She does none of the above.
When her eyes turn glassy and her bottom lip begins to quiver, I go to stand, but before I can, Lucia launches herself at me, throwing her arms around my neck. “Oh, Romeo,” she chokes out. “I love it … I love you.”
Wait, what?
She loves me?
My body instinctively goes rigid. This is the first time anyone has muttered those words to me. Three little syllables that hit me harder than any bullet ever could.
I bury my face in her coconut-scented hair as I carefully wrap my arms around her, like I’m holding something fragile and irreplaceable, because this woman is like nobody I’ve ever known.
She’s fun-loving, pint-sized, caring, feisty, a little unhinged at times and completely unpredictable, but those are traits I’ve come to crave like oxygen.
She drives me insane in all the worst and best ways. She challenges me, cuts through my bullshit, but the truth is I wouldn’t change this woman even if I could.
She’s perfect just the way she is.
