Page 107 of Mafia Redeemer

“Arrived? Let me guess. Kicked in the door and had you bent over the sofa before the door closed.”

She winks at me.

“Something like that.”

“And I bet you two have been going at it since that moment. That’s why it took so damn long for you to call me. I’m certain Lorenzo’s been there for a few hours.”

“He has.”

“Good for you.”

Chellie laughs. I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her back against me. When I speak, I make sure Laura can hear me.

“Say goodbye, Chellie. We need to go, and I haven’t touched you for five whole minutes. I don’t know if I can last.”

“Bye, Lorenzo. Bye, Chellie Belly.”

“Bye, Laura Snora.”

I think their nicknames are adorable. It’s not long after that we’ve locked up the place and are in the car. Best laid plans of mice and men. We’re both asleep within five minutes. I wake as we cross into Manhattan. I glance down at Chellie as she continues to sleep. Clearly, we both needed it since neither of us stirred the entire ride. My driver knows where to take us, and it’s not to either of our places.

“Chellie, wake up.”

“Huh? Are we home?”

“Not yet.”

She sits up and peers through the window.

“Where are we?”

“You’ll see.”

We pull up to the curb, and Rocco opens the door. He was in the front passenger seat as our guard. The other guys broke off and went to return the rental. Once I’m out of the car, I reach in for her. It’s already late, and all the other shops are closed. But I told Rocco to make sure this one stayed open at the same time as I told Luigi where to take us.

“Mr. Mancinelli, I’m glad you made it. I wasn’t going to be able to stay much longer.”

I shoot the man a scowl, and he quickly plasters a smile on his face. For what I’ve already spent, he’ll fucking stay until the cows come home.

“Is it ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Enzo?”

“Shh,piccolina. Good things come to those who wait.”

ChapterEighteen

Chellie

My gaze sweeps the jewelry store before settling on the salesman, who’s beaming at Enzo. It takes me a moment before I realize they must know each other. Enzo guides me toward the wedding ring display. I glance toward the engagement rings, but he nudges me in the opposite direction. I can only stare up at him. It was only a couple hours ago that we were truly talking about getting married and soon. Now, we’re bypassing engagement rings and moving straight to wedding rings. My head’s spinning.

“Pick whichever one you want.”

All I can do is blink at such a blanket statement. Whichever one? This is a high-end store in the Diamond District in Manhattan. Nothing in here starts at less than at least twenty-thousand dollars. I know he’s wealthy, but this not only hits me in the face but shoves it down my throat that we run in very different circles. I may have come from parents who are well off, but this is another level.

“Chellie, what style do you like? Eternity bands? Vintage?”

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