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“Appetizers only. Come and hang out while I prep the main dish.”
“We’ll be there in a minute.”
Cristina nods and leaves.
I breathe out as if that’ll relieve the swelling in my chest.
“We’re doomed,” Drago says. “But cheerfully.”
I start walking toward the kitchen, “I want to invest in the company that makes the healing gel you’ve been applying to my wounds.”
He catches up and side-eyes me with awhy do I carelook. He’s my hitman, not my investment banker.
“Also,” I continue, “I’ll pilot the jet tonight.”
Drago stops. When I don’t halt, he stops me with a firm grip on my shoulder. “I prefer you on the ground in case something goes wrong up there.”
“I’ll pilot the jet.” Besides, Cristina and I could both use some distancing.
25
THE NEXT STEP
CRISTINA
After what happened between Severio and me, I’m surprised I remembered the fish.
I’m surprised I remembered my name after what Severio did to my body. I did forget something before running out of the room. My underwear.
The way Severio looked at me when I went to tell him and Drago to come in and eat makes me feel even better about myself and my body. While a man’s attention wasn’t ever something I needed to make me feel good about myself, it’s terrific to have a man who appreciates my curves. It makes me feel prettier, more desirable, and therefore lifts my spirits.
I wouldn’t have expected Severio to be that man, certainly not with how our relationship started, but he showed me passion and protection I’d never experienced. Since he likes good food and indulges in excellent meals, I’m happy to fix him some of my favorites.
Which happen to be seafood dishes, some traditionally Italian, others from other countries in the Mediterranean Sea.
When Severio enters the kitchen, knowing I have no panties on makes me feel…bad. Not badbadas if I’m doing somethingwrong, but bad as in a bad girl doing something perversely right. I like it.
I’m sure Father Thomas would have a thing or five to say about temptation.
The men take a seat across the counter and pick up the homemade chips that I shaped into scoops when I dug them from the potato. The shape is so that the person can scoop out the spicy fish dip. Which they do immediately.
They both chew, their eyebrows shooting up almost at the same time.
“I know, right?” I grin and reach for Severio’s plate to have a bite. He slaps my wrist. I laugh because he won’t share.
I reach for Drago’s chip, and he moves the plate out from under my hand.
“Fine.” I lift my hands. “I won’t steal.”
On the kitchen counter, a golden serpent slithers across Drago’s phone. “Save me some fish,” he says before picking up the call and leaving with the appetizer plate.
Severio dips the chip and does the airplane thing toward me. I lean in and open my mouth, but he reverses and puts the food in his mouth instead. “This is a Lebanese dish,” he says.
“Wow, how do you know that?”
“I eat around the world and know things.”
Impressive. “I changed it up a little bit.”
