Page 102 of Corrado

“What?” he snarled into the phone.

“Woke you up, did I?”

Corrado’s brow knotted as he took in the familiar voice, and then eyed the clock again. Seven o’clock in Toronto meant it was four in the morning in Las Vegas. “Why aren’t you sleeping, Les?”

The man on the other end of the phone made a grunt. A good sign he didn’t want to answer the question, but he was probably going to do it anyway simply because Corrado asked. So was their way.

“Well?” Corrado pressed.

Pushing over in the bed, Corrado rolled to his back while keeping the phone at his ear. He waited for whatever it was Alessio had to tell him as he sat up, and used the black velvet of the headboard as a place to rest his back.

He needed to wake up.

Alessio was still quiet on the phone.

Across the hall from his master bedroom—without Alessio, Corrado rarely closed his bedroom door—he found a familiar form sleeping. Apparently, Ginevra also didn’t know how to close her door when she went to bed, although this was the first time Corrado had woken up before her in the week that they had been staying together in this penthouse. Usually, he had found other ways to distract himself when the woman was around, so then they both had their space.

He didn’t know why he did that.

She didn’t upset him …

He just felt odd around her. Like when she’d started crying in the car when he drove them to Toronto, and his first reaction was to be rude. And then just as quickly, he found he needed to fix that and her because he didn’t want to see her cry.

He shouldn’t care at all.

She was a fucking job.

“Corrado, are you listening?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, coming back to the conversation at hand. Although, he was still staring across the hall even as he said it, half amused by the fact Ginevra slept on top of the blankets, and also slightly bothered by it at the same time. Not because he thought she might be cold—the penthouse was warm—but more because he noticed at all. Like he noticed the shape of her thighs, and the way her legs looked under the pair of cotton shorts she’d pulled on. Fuck. He needed to get back to Les. Now. “What’s going on?”

“You asked for time off from The League?”

Corrado stiffened in the bed, scrubbing a hand over his face at the same time. “Who told you that?”

“Who do you think?”

“Dare, likely. Cree doesn’t pay attention to that shit.”

“You’re not wrong,” Alessio grumbled.

Across the hall, Ginevra rolled over in the bed, a soft sound escaping her at the same time. It almost sounded like a moan. Add that onto the fact that Corrado was still admiring the swells and curves of her body, not to mention, the fact he was quite aware that she was a beautiful woman, and he suddenly needed to ignore a raging erection under his own sheets.

Great.

That’s just fucking perfect.

Another woman, under entirely different circumstances, and Corrado might have acted on his attraction. He would have let Alessio know the shit he was feeling, that he was attracted to the chick, and it would have been done.

That was their rule.

It was fine.

Except this was different. He wasn’t just attracted to Ginevra—he was also interested in her, and what brought her here to him. Things he had no business feeling, and he didn’t know how that factored into the way he and Alessio had always done things when it came to women. Not to mention, he gave his word about the job with Ginevra; he wasn’t to tell people where she came from, or who she was. Including Alessio.

It was a fucking mess.

This was trouble.