AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Angela snickered, pinching his left cheek. “You’re a prude. Who would have guessed?”
He leveled his gaze on her. “Baby, I have a mirror over my bed and metal in my dick. A prude I am not.”
She let her eyes roam over the mirror as well as his hardening dick before she replied, “Fair point.”
Roman looked mollified but continued to stare at her, finally asking, “Why aren’t you more murdery about my past lovers?”
“Murdery?” Angela snorted. “That’s not a word.”
Roman stuck his nose in the air. “I’m sure it is. I’m a murderer. I would know.”
Angela shook her head, marveling at how much her life had changed in recent months. The man in front of her just brazenly stated that he was a murderer, and all she could do was smile. “I’m sure it’s not,” she retorted. “It sounds like an Abel word.”
Roman blanched. “Well, I best strike it from my vocabulary then. I wouldn’t want to go around sounding like Abel.”
She giggled, leaning in and wrapping her arms around his waist. “I really do love you.”
“I really love you, too,” he said. “Even though you could try the patience of a saint.”
Angela pinched his non-existent love handle before sitting back. “To answer your question, I don’t want to massacre your past lovers because they are exactly that. In the past. If you were to look at some skank now, I’d have to castrate you.”
Roman dipped his head, a huge grin spreading across his face. “That makes me feel a lot better. But you don’t need to worry about me looking at someone else. All I see is you.”
Angela sighed, her stomach taking a dip. “Roman... the things you say to me... ”
“They’re all true,” he insisted.
“The big bad crime lord is a romantic at heart,” Angela said.
Roman shrugged, taking the compliment in stride. “It’s the Italian and Sicilian in me.”
Angela smiled. “You’re proud of your heritage.”
“I am,” Roman confirmed. “But proud of my bloodline? Not so much.”
“Are they all that bad?” she asked curiously.
Although Roman rarely volunteered information about his family, he always answered her questions when she asked. He never kept things from her. Even if it was unpleasant. But it had taken him some getting used to. At first, he would only offer short, clipped responses. But now, he was more open, sharing stories with her and also with others. She loved seeing it, especially for Luca, who had never met his mother. Of course, on the flip side were the horror stories. The stories that made him toss and turn at night and mutter in his sleep. When that happened, she would lay awake and stroke his hair, promising him he was safe. It broke her heart.
Roman stood up, stretching his arms above his head. He looked like a tanned, muscled statue to Angela’s eyes. Her mouth practically watered. But when he started to speak, she forced herself to focus on his words and not his sexy body.
“Most of them are, yes,” Roman was saying. “But there are some exceptions. Like my mother and Morrigan. My maternal grandparents are also okay.”
“Your mother’s parents? I haven’t heard you speak about them much,” she said, accepting the hand Roman extended. He helped her from the bed, passing her a robe, then he pulled on a pair of black sweats.
They made their way to the kitchen by silent agreement. Smith and Wesson came running up to them, and after they received pats, meowed all the way back to their food bowls. Angela fed them, leaving them to it and went back to the kitchen, prompting Roman to keep talking. After a small sigh, he did.
“My maternal grandfather was a very hard man. Very strict and deeply entrenched in tradition,” Roman explained. He started to get ingredients together for an omelet. “But he’s mellowed with old age. His wife was the love of his life, and he treated her like a queen. She died just months before my mother, which was a blessing. My mother’s death would have destroyed her. My grandfather had a heart attack when he heard the news.”
“I’m so sorry,” Angela said, feeling for the little boy who had lost so much.
Roman shrugged and continued to beat the eggs. “That’s what happens in my world. I’m sure Nonnu would be happy for me, knowing I’ve found you.”
“That’s nice to know,” she said, setting the table. “You haven’t told him about us?”
“No,” Roman admitted, pouring the egg mixture into the pan. “We don’t speak often. When I cut myself off from that world, I made it a clean cut. I cut the good as well as the bad.”
Angela couldn’t help it, she had to hug him. She wrapped her arms around him from behind, watching as he continued to tend to the eggs. But he did squeeze her hand. “Maybe it’s time to reach back out?”
