Page 97 of Craving Danger

Samantha

Walking into my apartment, I glance at the window and let out a sigh when I see another bouquet of flowers.

My freaking place looks like a flower store!

Yanking my phone out of my handbag, I press dial on Mr. Vitale’s number.

Not even a second passes when he answers, “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t move around in my apartment,” I complain. “Stop with the flowers, Mr. Vitale.”

I glance around at all the colorful arrangements and shake my head.

It looks like a unicorn puked everywhere.

“I’ll stop on one condition,” he murmurs.

“I’m not ready to talk about us,” I warn him.

It’s been over two weeks, and I still can’t bring myself to make a decision. One moment, I’m willing to give things a try between us, and the next, I shut it down because Mr. Vitale is, and always will be, a mafia boss.

“I want you to call me Franco,” he murmurs.

“Oh.” I narrow my eyes. “Is that it? Will you stop leaving flowers at my window?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” I sigh as I drop my handbag on the couch and walk to the window to retrieve the latest peace offering.

“So you didn’t throw any of the flowers I left for you in the trash?” he asks.

“Of course not. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

He chuckles, and the sound has my heart beating faster.

I’ve barely seen him because he’s staying away from the companies until he’s dealt with whoever attacked us.

That’s another reason why I’m hesitant to give things a chance between us.

“How did things go at the office today?” he asks.

“Good.” I tuck the device between my ear and shoulder and lift the arrangement into my apartment. Shutting the window, I say, “I’m not talking with you about work. That’s what office hours are for.”

“Fair enough.” His tone is laced with amusement. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Nothing. I just called to tell you to stop with the flowers. I’m hanging up.”

Before I can end the call, he admits, “I miss you.”

I press my lips together so I don’t say the words back to him and make a non-committal sound.

“Can I come up?”

A frown appears on my forehead. “You’re here?”

“Yes. I dropped the flowers off a couple of minutes ago.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

---