Page 21 of The Fixer

But that’s no longer an option. We’re getting married, and she’s going to be living with me.

And somehow, I’m going to have to keep my hands off mywife.

Fuck.

The coffee shopI chose is right next to the beach. I get there a few minutes in advance and scope out the joint, but I don’t have long to wait. Rosa arrives promptly at nine.

Last night, she was wearing an ankle-length dress with long slits up both sides. She looked pulled-together and sophisticated.

Today though? Today, she oozes sex appeal. She’s dressed in a short turquoise skirt that stops a coupleof inches above her knees and a matching turquoise crop top that reveals a sliver of her midriff every time she raises her arms. She looks like a hot fifties pin-up, and I’m not the only one who thinks that. The four businessmen at the table near the window stop discussing their portfolios and openly ogle her. A young man who doesn’t look a day over eighteen gives her a blatant once-over, stopping only when I give him a threatening glare. Is he blind? Can he not see my engagement ring on Rosa’s finger?

She sees me, and her face lights up. “Leo,” she says with a smile. This isn’t the wide and obviously fake smile she gave me last night when I asked her to marry me at the seafood restaurant. No, this one is small and a little shy, and it feels like a punch to my gut.

She comes up to me. Even with the heels, her head barely reaches my chin. It doesn’t deter her. She stands on tiptoe and brushes her lips against my cheek. “Thank you for the flowers. They were lovely.”

It’s a light, gossamer-soft kiss that ends almost as soon as it starts, designed to convince anyone watching us that we’re together. But the delicate scent of her lotion fills my nostrils, roses overlaidwith jasmine, and it makes my head swim. “You’re welcome.”

“I have no idea how you found someone to deliver them at seven in the morning.”

I threw money at a florist until they agreed to cooperate. “I can be persuasive.”

“I bet you can.” She looks around appreciatively at the small cafe. The large window looks out on a patio and, beyond that, the ocean. “This is a lovely view.”

“Do you want to sit outside?” It’s not exactly the nicest day for it. The sun is hidden behind some ominous-looking thunderclouds, and it looks like it might rain at any minute. But the interior of the cafe is busy and noisy. Plus, that kid has resumed eye-fucking Rosa, and if I sit inside, I’m going to punch his face.

“I’d love that.”

I nod toward the patio tables. “Why don’t you grab us a spot, and I’ll get breakfast. What do you want?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of breakfast pastry.” She reaches into her red bag. “Hang on, I’ll give you some money.”

“No,” I say flatly.

She opens her mouth to say something, then thinks better of it. “Okay. Thank you. I’ll be outside.”

I get in line, watching Rosa as I wait. She picks a table with the best view of the beach. Her skirt rides up on her thighs. The flash of skin makes my cock harden and invokes a sense of deja vu. It’s from my dream, I realize after a minute of thought. I kissed up her legs and bit those soft thighs in my dreams, and judging from the stirring in my groin, my cockremembers.

Fuck. I’m in trouble.

I orderone of every pastry they have on display and take it outside. Rosa looks at my loaded tray, and her lips twitch. “Let me guess, you’re really hungry.”

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I got a little of everything. One of the tarts is corn and black bean, and the other is spinach, onion, and olive.”

“Thank you. I think I’ll start with the spinach tart. Want half?”

Sharing food feels like a very couple-like thing to do. “Sure.”

She cuts the pastry neatly into two halves and offers me one. Blowing on her cappuccino to cool the steaming beverage, she looks up at me through her long eyelashes. “What happened last night?”

“One second.” I pull one of Valentina’s gadgets out of my pocket, a flat round disk that’s no bigger than a coaster, and power it on. “I don’t exactly understand how it works, but Valentina says it prevents drones from recording our conversation.”

“Ah.” Rosa’s expression turns sober. “I really don’t like being watched all the time. Thank heavens we go back to Venice soon.”

“About that. . .” I clear my throat. “Rocco Santini had knowledge of our movements. He knew we danced together at Valentina and Dante’s wedding but that we left separately. He knew we hadn’t been spending time together. I don’t know how, but he has eyes in Venice.”

“Could someone in your organization be a spy?”

“I doubt that.” After Angelica was kidnapped, and it turned out that one of my people, Andreas, was a traitor, Dante and I did a full investigative screening on every single member of the Venice Mafia. “Chances are, he has every one of us watched as a matter of policy.” I give her a wry smile. “We do the same.”

---