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16
I was feeling way better. I still hadn’t forgiven Hugo for being the worst asshole in the world the other night, and there would come a day – soon – when all his secrets would be mine. Right then, I was drunk with the power I knew I had over him. The Albanian Monster, the Death Angel of New York, and I could make him lose his head and unleash that primal side of him. I wanted that brute to kneel to me and let me heal his scars, whatever they may be.
I took the elevator from the foyer to the third floor, knowing Hugo would stay behind to talk with the lookouts, ask if anything happened when we were gone, and lock himself in Gino’s office to check on business.
Upstairs, I walked into the kitchen and stopped, surprised, when I saw Flora Maria cleaning the counter.
“Oh,” I said, because I expected to find the house empty. None of our staff was working weekends. “Hello, Flora!”
“Good to see you, Miss Nucci; welcome back home.”
“What are you doing here on a Sunday?”
“I thought you’d come home late tonight, and I came by to do my chores. I know I usually come on Mondays, but since the house was empty, I figured I’d be out of your hair tomorrow.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
“No, Miss Nucci.” She smiled warmly. Her job was to keep my floor clean and keep the pantry stocked. She also cooked when that was asked of her, and I usually accompanied her to the market for groceries. “I have everything ready for your week. I premade some casseroles for your lunches, and I’ll come by to cook you dinner every day now that Muse is not here. That girl can cook, I tell you that. Your brother picked a good one.”
I highly doubted that Gino gave a flying fuck about Muse’s culinary ability, but she was right. He picked a good one, and somehow, she had picked him too. My stupid ass brother should wake up every day and thank Santa Madonna that Muse decided to give him a chance.
“So if I want to eat at home, I just have to put one of your casseroles in the oven?”
“Si, Miss Nucci. There’s an eggplant ratatouille, lasagna, of course, but keep it in the oven enough for the ragu to heat up. Also, I put some beef steak in the fridge to marinate. I can come up tomorrow and cook it for you.”
I rolled my eyes at her. Gino needed to raise her pay, ASAP.
“I can cook it myself, Flora. I got it. I will call you if I need help.” She had no obligation to be here every day of the week, and she had her own family to look after. Plus, my alone time with Hugo was limited, and I wanted to make the best of it.
“Make sure you do, Miss Nucci. Your brother would have my head if he heard I’d let you starve.”
“I don’t think I’m in any danger of that, Flora. I promise you.”
“Good. For tonight, I made you a risotto. I just turned it off. And there’s an apple cobbler in the oven. Let it rest for twenty minutes and then you can cut it.”
The doors of the elevator opened, and my attention was immediately sucked in Hugo’s direction. It was like an unseen leash was pulling at me to get closer, so I just nodded absently for Flora Maria. His dark grey, burning eyes found me too, but he stopped in his tracks when he noticed the maid.
“Flora Maria,” he said simply and then turned away to the living room, disregarding me like my taste wasn’t still in his mouth.
Flora Maria put a hand on my shoulder.
“Make sure to feed him to, will you?”
“What am I, his babysitter?”
“Ah, Miss Nucci, we both know he’ll not ask you for help in the kitchen, even if his stomach was eating itself. Just let him know what I cooked for you two.”
“Will do. You’re leaving already?” I hoped that she didn’t notice the eagerness in my voice because I liked Flora Maria a lot, but right then, I wanted her gone.
“Do you need me? I was planning on cooking some lunch for my boys back home.”
“Then go do that. I want to go change and take a nap,” I lied.
Flora Maria said her goodbyes after checking everything around the house one more time, and I walked her to the door just to see her walk out. The moment the massive sculpted front door closed behind her, a smile landed on my face.
I ran upstairs to my bedroom and got rid of my clothes – all my clothes – throwing just a silky black robe over my body and furry slippers, just like those I had in the Hamptons.
When I came back up, I stopped in the door frame of the living room. Hugo had his back turned to me. He was on the couch watching something, and I couldn’t see the TV screen from where I was, but I could hear the Friends theme song. I knew he heard me coming in, but he didn’t flinch, so I shook my head and turned to the kitchen to slice that cobbler Flora was raving about. If nonna taught me one thing right, it was that you feed a man to make him bend to your desire. I paired both of our slices with a crema gelato and dropped the plates on the big twelve-person table in the dining room hard enough to make his head turn.
