Page 25 of Forging Caine

Samantha

Antoniocarriedthebigblack case with Fiori’s damaged painting in one hand and ushered me through the condo door with the other. I held the bottle of wine from The Train Station. How did his first day home go so off track? How could we have wound up in such a romantic private room in the restaurant and not want to spend any time there together?

I dropped onto the bench by the door, setting the bottle next to me.

“What do you think, bella?” Antonio kicked off his shoes and placed the case at the end of the bench.

I pulled off one of my shoes and rubbed at my foot. Work boots, running shoes, or barefoot were my preference, but none of those went with the skirt. “I think there’s no way this thing is on the up and up, if he’s refusing to even send the painting through the company.”

He chuckled and sat next to me. “I meant about us being home together. Shall we head straight to sleep?”

“Sleep? Who can sleep with that thing so close?” I gestured to the case with my second shoe.

He frowned, a sexy crease forming between his brows. “I don’t believe broken glass damaged it.”

“What do you mean?”

He dragged both hands through his hair, clearly as frustrated as I was with our evening. “The damage was covered but not well, so I could see the two sides of the cut butted up perfectly. Glass wouldn’t have been so precise—there would have been a jag or frayed edges. I expect the perfect match is why an inexperienced conservator might not think to fill the tiny gap in.”

“Do you want to go look at it now? Get a feeling for the work you need to do?”

His broad hand landed on my thigh and he rubbed up and down slowly, staring at it. “How are you feeling? You were quite upset when I got home and we haven’t had a chance to talk about it.”

Yeah, that was going to make my night better. Starttalkingabout Dad’s letter. “I’m good. So far, the evening’s been one distraction after another. I’ve barely even thought about the fact that my mother lied to me and that Elliot knew about it the whole time.”

He pinched my leg lightly and chuckled when I smacked the hand with my shoe. “So you’refine, as always?”

I dropped the shoe and stood, darting a few steps away from him. In case my actions weren’t clear enough, I waggled my eyebrows. “It’s possible I need another distraction.”

His concerned look vanished, replaced by the way he’d looked at me outside of Cass’s house. “How big a distraction?”

“How big have you got?” I backed my way through the great room, while he stalked after me, staying out of arm’s reach.

“I have one bigger than you may be able to handle.”

A tremendous pulse flashed between my legs, the empty ache that accompanied his absence reminding me he was here and about to satisfy my need. I fluttered my eyelashes at him. “Oh do you now, Dr. Ferraro?”

He matched my pace into the hallway to the bedroom, his gaze lazily tracing to my toes and back up again. “You said we could open my bedside drawer when I was home for good?”

My foot caught on the edge of the rug by the bed. That wasnotthe distraction I was expecting. “Maybe?”

“You don’t sound sure.” Antonio sped up, as did I, to maintain the distance between us, until I ran into the bed. He grabbed me, effortlessly throwing me onto the mattress. “I do have another rather large distraction I expect you’ve missed quite a lot.”

I pushed up on my elbows, staring at him, my heart racing. The bedside table drawer. The day I arrived home from our visit in January, he’d told me not to open it. That he wanted to see my face when I looked inside. It was too early for an engagement, but he kept teasing about a future together, about flying to Vegas for a quick wedding.

The need to open the drawer and find out what was inside had gradually faded over the four months since then, replaced with a desire to open it and accept the ring.

But what if that wasn’t it? What if it was an old photo of his former fiancée and he didn’t want me to see it because it would make me doubt him? What if he was hiding some big financial secret, like he got all his money from illegal activities? Or what if…

He held out a hand. “Let’s go out to the patio upstairs. I want to watch the stars with you.”

I didn’t reach for his hand. “You want what?”

“To watch the stars.” He put his hand out again, insistent.

“Not the distraction I thought you meant.”

He winked at me and pursed his full lips. “Let’s use the hot tub.”

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