Page 27 of Mafia Captor

Wow—I never would have thought…

I’m drawn from my thoughts as the tires turn from pavement, crunching over rock.

He flashes me a grin. “Welcome to my estate.”

Of course, he times his words perfectly with us pulling up to an ornate wrought iron gate. The swirling black metal panels sense our presence, slowly opening. Hidden speakers play the soft sound ofCarol of the Bells. Grumps gives the gate a little growl.

This guy is full of surprises. I slant him some side-eye. “Your gate plays music?”

He shrugs. “It’s a great song. It’s bigger than Christmas. I like it.”

The grounds are everything one would expect when being dropped into a French chateau that’s hiding in the middle of the state of New York. Rolling grassy hills dip into low stone walls. The long drives are paved with tan and white pebbles. The stately three-story residence has a cream-colored exterior, towers, and a sloping gray roof. It’s a house out of dreams and storybooks. A manor worthy of elegant weddings, sophisticated garden parties, a happy family with children and dogs, extended family joining for gatherings.

It’s heaven.

“How did you find this place?” I crane my neck to get a look at some of the gardens as we drive toward the front entrance.

“I’m not a Village guy. I needed land. I asked Tess to find me a couple places to choose from. The moment I saw this place, I knew it was mine.”

“Why do you need the land? I mean, don’t get me wrong. It’s gorgeous. I’d love to have it even if I didn’t need it, but…” My goodness… is that a babbling brook running the length of the property? Have I fallen asleep and woken up in a Jane Austen novel? “Is there a specific reason?”

“I have dogs. A lot of dogs.”

“Makes sense. I can’t recall ever seeing dogs inside the Village.”

“Nope. Charlie had a fish. Jack Sparrow. I sent her flowers when he died. Other than that, there’s a couple of indoor cats but that’s the extent of the pets. I need space to breathe, room to roam. And I can’t live without my dogs.”

Again—who is this man? He’s full of surprises. Just when I think I have him pegged, he flips the script on me. Sending flowers when a friend’s fish dies? Who does that?

Huh…Ido.

Could it be possible that he and I actually do have some things in common? We do have the same idea of a dream home, that’s for sure. My face is practically glued to the window glass, not wanting to miss a single thing.

He pulls the Land Rover—a very fun car in a car chase, by the way—up to the curved front steps, putting it in Park.

He opens my door for me. I step out onto the pebbled drive. “I have to say, you have impeccable taste in homes.”

“And you, in bosses.” He flashes a wicked grin.

The comment is meant to get a rise out of me. Not only did I not choose him as a boss, but him stealing me from Tess has now led to my imprisonment. Had he left me alone, Tess and I would be matching white and gold wallpaper to flooring right now.

I ignore him, heading toward the large wooden doors. Grumps trails behind.

I can barely keep from running, I’m so excited to get the tour. Wait. There will be a tour, won’t there? Is it rude to ask? Or will he just lock me away in one of those towers? My little heart couldn’t take it if I got this close to such a gorgeous house and didn’t get to explore.

Lucky for me he’s as eager to show his house off as I am to see it. He’s redone the kitchen, turning it into a sleek, modern commercial-grade space perfect for catering events. The rear wall of the kitchen is made of glass doors. Today, with the gorgeous weather, they’ve been left open to let in a cool breeze, filling the room with the scent of fresh flowers.

He must have gardens.

Of course he does. The man’s got a face tattoo dedicated to his beloved father, a gun in his glovebox, sends flowers over dead fish, and—I peek out the back door to confirm—yup. There’s a stone wall out there like something out ofThe Secret Garden, and I just know there’s rows of blooming rose bushes behind it.

He’s got gardens.

He’s like no one I’ve ever met. He fits in none of my neatly checked boxes of what I’m looking for in a man and yet…

There’s a library but instead of the dark, dusty space you’d picture, sunlight floods through tall windows, highlighting the books sitting on lacquered white shelves against walls painted pale yellow. Instead of the whole wingback chair by the fireplace vibe, he’s got the most adorable round chairs. They’re covered in a soft, gray fabric and wide enough for two to snuggle into or for one to curl their feet up under them as they read.

He’s got a cozy living room, dark gray walls with white sofas. No television. No cat. I’m guessing he doesn’t watch a lot of reality television. Grumps leaves us at this point in the tour, curling up in one of the many soft dog beds I’ve seen laying around. There’s a beautiful, shiny black grand piano in the corner of the room. It sits in front of a window that overlooks the garden.

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