Page 32 of The Fixer

His eyes sparkle with laughter. He’s regained his good humor. “It’s a housewarming gift, principessa. The usual protocol is to tear open the paper and see what’s inside.”

“But I didn’t get you anything.”

“And you don’t need to,” he replies. He nods toward the parcel. “Go on, open it.”

It’s fabric. Not just any fabric. Tessuti Gelli has an online store, and this package contains every piece of fabric I’ve added to my shopping cart this year. More Leo magic. “How?” I ask helplessly.

“It was easy,” he says, a touch of smugness in his tone. “Haven’t you ever got an abandoned cart email from a retailer? You must know they store all that data, principessa. I went in there and told them I wanted to get you a gift, and they were extremely helpful.”

I bet they were. Tessuti Gelli isn’t cheap, and Iadd fabric to my shopping cart with abandon. This is thousands and thousands of euros of fabric. Silk and wool, cotton and lace. Hours of inspiration in one square box.

I lift each of the pieces out reverently. In the bottom is a brown cotton I don’t remember. “This wasn’t on my list, was it?”

“You kept track?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Why am I not surprised? No, this was me. I saw it and couldn’t resist.”

“Why?” I stroke the cloth. It’s a deep brown cotton, with strands of green and gold woven through it. It’s lovely—at first unassuming, but when you look closer, you see the subtle shimmer that makes it special. “I didn’t have you pegged as a cotton connoisseur.”

“I’m not. It’s just that this particular shade. . .” He comes closer and cups my cheek in his callused palm. His ocean-blue eyes lock onto mine, and I feel like I’m on a surfboard. Struggling for balance, knowing that I can be thrown off at any time, but loving the ride. “It’s the precise color of your eyes.”

I don’t stop to think about whether this is a good idea. Instead, I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and tug his head down.

And then I kiss him.

Leo doesn’t respond for a moment, and I’m wondering if I fucked up, but then. . .he does.With a growl, his mouth closes on mine, and he takes control. One hand strokes my neck, his fingers gripping my hair, while the other rests possessively at the small of my back. His lips coax mine open, and his tongue slides in.

My entire body comes alive.

This isn’t a casual peck or a light brushing of lip against lip. No, this is the kind of kiss they write poems about. The taste of him floods my senses. I slide my hands up his arms as I kiss him back, feeling his hard muscles flex under my touch. Heat sizzles all over my body. Oh God. This is so good. He lifts me onto the cutting table, and I spread my thighs open, inviting him to occupy the space between my legs. He squeezes my breast over my T-shirt. “You drive me mad,” he growls. “For months, I’ve wanted to do this.”

Do it now.My pulse skitters wildly. I close my eyes and breathe in his scent. I wrap my arms around his waist, tugging his shirt from his waistband and touching his warm skin. My skirt rides up my legs, exposing my thighs to his hot gaze. He steps back and looks at me, his eyes glazed with lust, and Ithrill at his blatantly male appraisal. “Take off your shirt.”

“You’re barking orders at me again.” I should tell him to go to hell on principle, but principles don’t get you off, and I’m hoping Leo will. I tug my T-shirt over my head, and my nipples ache, pebbling with need. Underneath, I’m wearing a white satin bra. Nothing special, though I wouldn’t know that from the look on Leo’s face. He makes an appreciative male noise, and then he bends his head, pushes the cups down, and sucks my nipple into his mouth.

I’m sitting on fabric that costs hundreds of euros a meter. The beaded silk will be crumpled beyond repair, and I can’t bring myself to care. Leo trails a line of kisses down my shoulders and neck, and my skin burns where he touches me. I only had a glass of wine at dinner, but I feel drunk. Dizzy. I grip his waist, anchoring myself to him. “Leo,” I moan. “Please.” His tongue claims mine, and his teeth nip my lower lip, and I’m drowning and flying all at once. I’m ready for more. All my life, this is what I’ve been searching for. This feeling of overwhelming intensity. And now I’ve found it, and I’m ready foreverything.“I want. . . I need. . ..”

Leo’s phone rings, its shrill sound slicing through my lust.

17

LEO

“What?” I bark into the phone.

“Sorry to interrupt, Leo,” Goran, my right-hand man, says. “But we have a situation here. Max Guerra just walked into our headquarters. He wants to talk to you.”

I grow cold. What the hell is one of Spina Sacra’s lieutenants doing here? “I’ll be right there.” I hang up and look at Rosa. Her face is flushed, her lips swollen. She’s never looked more beautiful to me. “I have to go.”

“Trouble?”

“I don’t know,” I answer. “I hope not.” I tuck my shirt back inside my waistband. “Don’t open the door, don’t let anyone in.”

She licks her lips nervously. “Okay.”

I go downstairs, jump into my boat, and speed toward headquarters. Fear has me in a vicious grip. I couldn’t protect Patrizia. People who get close to me get hurt. And now, less than a week after the deal with the Lecce mob, Max Guerra is in Venice.

Goran has putGuerra in an interrogation room. He follows me inside. Max looks up, and a smile touches his face. “Cesari,” he says. “Good to see you.”

“I’m not in the mood for pleasantries.” I sit across from him. Goran positions himself behind me. “What the fuck are you doing in my city?”

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