Page 72

"Next Tuesday's full sample schedule for the secondary line." I held the folder out in front of her, tone businesslike. "Clara just printed it. Take it home and look it over."

The light in Ruby's eyes died instantly.

She dropped her gaze, snatched the folder, fingers digging into the leather cover. She didn't look at me, didn't say thanks. Just turned and grabbed the door handle.

The lock clicked. Cold air rushed through the gap.

The instant she stepped one foot over the threshold, I pressed my hand above the doorframe, caging her in my shadow.

"Plate number's NY-M7709. Black Maybach."

Ruby's hand froze mid-pull.

I leaned down, lips hovering by her almond-scented ear. "In Sicily, we never let a woman pay for a date she asked for. Tomorrow night, seven sharp. B2 parking garage after work. Find that car."

I stepped back half a pace, one hand in my pants pocket, looking down at her upturned face, corner of my mouth lifting. "Tomorrow I'm taking you to dinner."

Ruby's head snapped up.

Those amber eyes went wide, reflecting my undisguised smile. She bit her lip, face red as a ripe peach, the corners of her mouth curving up despite herself.

"Got it."

She said it fast, nodded hard, clutched the folder, and flew out of the executive office like the wind, footsteps so light she almost skipped.

The elevator chimed from down the hall.

I turned back to the desk.

The deep red Ecuadorian roses lay scattered across the expensive mahogany, rough brown paper and gray cotton ribbon loose, a dozen full petals fallen across the open financial reports.

I reached out, rough fingertips brushing the delicate petals, pressing out a bead of dark red juice.

The violence and gloom that had pressed on my chest for two days washed clean in an instant.

She came back.

She'd crossed the wall I thought would cut us off for good. She hadn't been scared off. She'd put on that sexy red dress, brought those thorny flowers, and in her clumsy, burning way told me—she wasn't giving up. She'd step into my territory.

This surrender outside my control satisfied me more than any obedient plaything ever could. It was an unprecedented fullness spreading through my marrow, scorching hot.

But when my eyes caught the calendar at the desk corner, that rising high got doused with cold water.

My watch read ten fifteen.

An indescribable frustration and regret bit down.

If it were any other day, I wouldn't make her wait till tomorrow night. I'd pin her to the lounge sofa right now and take her completely. But not today.

Today was Thursday.

Family day. A tradition Isabella and I had kept for over a decade. Even if a blizzard buried New York, I couldn't break this dinner.

I stared at the vivid crimson in the vase, jaw tight. Thirty-three hours—from now until seven tomorrow night. I was actually starting to hate how slowly time moved, wanting to wrench the clock hands forward a whole day, straight to that exhaust-and-shadow-filled B2 garage.

I took a deep breath, pushed down the clawing impatience, and hit the intercom.

"Rocco, get the car." I buttoned my suit jacket, eyes cold and lethal again. "Long Island City warehouse dock. Before we head to the Upper East Side for dinner, I want those two DeLuca rats pulled out of the union for good."