Page 135 of Craving Danger

“Good.” A smile tugs at his mouth. “I took care of the person who ordered the attack on us.”

My eyebrows lift. “You did? When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Did you…” I let the sentence trail away.

Franco’s eyes lock with mine. “Yes, I killed him.”

“Is it okay if I ask you about things like that?”

He nods. “Of course. I have nothing to hide from you, baby.”

I take a sip of my wine, then Franco points at my plate and orders, “You skipped lunch. Eat, baby.”

I take a few bites, then ask, “So what kind of mafia business do you do?”

“Counterfeit notes and transporting contraband goods.”

“Oh.” I tilt my head. “I expected something more…violent.”

He lets out a chuckle. “So me killing the head of the Slovak mafia isn’t violent enough for you?”

I shake my head. “I was talking about your illegal businesses.”

Franco changes the subject by saying, “I’ve noticed all your clothes are here. Does that mean you’ve moved in?”

I let out a burst of laughter. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

He nods. “If it were up to me, you’d never return to the apartment.”

I was going to tell him later, but now is as good a time as any.

“I’m handing the keys back to the landlord tomorrow.”

Franco stops eating and locks eyes with me. Slowly, a smile spreads over his face. “So you’ve moved in with me?”

Giving him a grin, I nod. “Yes. You’re officially stuck with me.”

Abandoning his food, he gets up, and walking around the island, he frames my face with his hand and kisses me hard. Lifting his head, he says, “You’ve just made me the happiest man in the world, baby.”

Chapter 43

Franco

Watching Samantha open box after box is a sight to behold.

When the men offloaded the truck, she was so happy she actually clapped her hands.

“Ohhhh, this is my grandmother’s hand mirror. She got it from her grandmother,” she says with nostalgia coating her words.

We’re sitting in the middle of the foyer with her belongings scattered around us. From the looks of things, it will take us a couple of days to unpack and find a spot for everything.

She pulls a framed photo from the box and hands it to me so I can see. “This was taken on my first day of school.”

I look at the little girl, who’s the cutest child I’ve ever seen. “Why do you have three ponytails?”

She shrugs. “Back then, I thought it looked pretty.”

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