Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
With a nod, Tiny leaves, and I head back to the kitchen. I lean my shoulder against a wall, and crossing my arms over my chest, I watch as Vittoria carefully tastes a sauce.
A small smile plays around her lips as she whispers, “Perfect.”
Pushing away from the wall, I walk toward her, and just as I come up behind her, she turns to the side.
She lets out a blood-curdling scream, and ducking to the right to avoid me, she loses her balance.
I react fast and grab hold of her so she doesn’t fall. Instinctively, I pull her against my chest, my arms wrapping around her.
She stands frozen in my hold, her breaths audible as they rush over her lips.
After a couple of seconds, she whispers, “Sorry. I didn’t know you were home.”
I lift my hand to her chin and nuge her face up so she’ll look at me, then turning my head, I say, “Kiss me hello.”
When she pushes onto her tiptoes, I lean down, and the moment her lips meet my cheek, there’s a burst of warmth in my heart.
You’re not the boss here. You’re her husband.
Vittoria takes a step away from me and glances at the stove. “Rita said you’re seldom home for dinner.”
My eyes drift over her pale face. “That was before I got married.”
“Oh.”
I don’t miss the flash of disappointment on her face, and it hits me square in the chest.
Her eyes dart between me and the stove, then she asks, “Have you eaten?”
I shake my head. “Whatever you’re making smells mouthwatering.”
She cautiously moves closer to the stove. “I’m making gnocchi and chicken with a creamy pesto sauce.”
“Sounds good.” I take a seat at the island. “Tiny says you refuse to take the phone out of the packaging.”
She freezes again, and keeping her eyes on the pot of sauce, she says, “It’s expensive. I told him we should get something cheaper.”
“Vittoria.” Her eyes dart to me, and I tap my thigh. “Come sit.”
Her eyebrows pinch together, but she obeys. Her body is fucking tense as she sits down on my lap. I take hold of her chin again and nudge her face up.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her gaze searches mine before she says, “I’m sorry about the call.”
“It’s okay.” Her floral scent drifts to me, and I almost lean in to kiss her but stop myself.
Jesus, I hate the no-kissing rule.
I let out a heavy breath before asking, “What can I do to make you feel comfortable with me?”
Worry creases her forehead. “I just need time to adjust. I’ll do better in the future.”
My hand moves to her cheek, and I lean a little closer. “You’re doing just fine, mia piccola cerviatta. I’m asking because I want to make things easier for you.”
“Oh.” Her eyebrows draw together while her eyes keep darting over my face. “It would be…” Her tongue darts out to nervously wet her lips. “It would help if I knew what to do and not to do so I don’t make you angry.”
Usually, I would get annoyed having to explain shit, but I suddenly possess a world of patience.
I shake my head. “I wasn’t angry with you.” She seems to relax a little, and I ask again, “What can I do to make things easier for you?”
She lets out a shaky breath. “Be less terrifying?”
A pleased smile spreads over my face. “Okay. I’ll focus on that. What else?”
Just like the night before, she stares at me as if I’ve grown two heads. Remembering she said, my smile made me seem more relatable, I keep my lips curved up.
Her eyes soften a little. “The smile helps a lot.”
“I’ll smile more.” I nod. “What else?”
Vittoria tilts her head while she keeps staring at me, then as if she’s approaching a bear, she carefully wraps her arms around my neck and gives me a hug.
“Hugs would be nice,” she admits, “They make me feel better.”
I squash her to me, and an unexpected groan rumbles from my chest.
God, she feels good in my arms.
“The food is going to burn,” she whispers near my ear.
I let out a chuckle and reluctantly let go of her.
Caution still fills her eyes, but she looks less tense than when I got home.
Proud of myself, I watch as she continues to cook.
You did good, Angelo.
Chapter 19
Tori
It feels like I have whiplash.
Since Angelo scared the living crap out of me, he’s been…nice, for lack of a better word.
I can feel his eyes on me as I pour the pesto sauce over the gnocchi, chicken, and rosa tomatoes.
Letting the dish rest for five minutes, I turn to him and ask, “Do you want to eat in the dining room?”
Earlier today, I familiarized myself with all the rooms in the mansion.
Rita is so good at her job that there’s nothing for me to do, which is a bit of a concern.