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Now we were outside, the waning daylight casting shadows on the ground. When I went to the right, toward my cottage, she said, “Seriously, Vito. I’m perfectly capable of walking home. I’m not some weak Victorian heroine who needs a man to carry her around. And I’m not having sex with you tonight.”
“You are not going home. We are going to the cottage. And no one thinks you are weak because you cry. You are one of the strongest people I know.”
I couldn’t see her expression, but I couldfeelher wrestling with this information. “Do you mean that?”
Was she used to men lying to her? “I never say things I don’t mean.”
In response, she kissed my throat, right under my chin. “Please, put me down.”
“No. I’m afraid you’ll run off again. I want to take you to the cottage and feed you, then relax with you. And I don’t want to argue about it.”
“I won’t argue. I’ll come with you, te lo prometto.”
The use of my language pleased me. And I believed her. So I set her on her feet and took her hand. We walked in silence, the dying winter light stripes of blue and purple and pink around us. There were no sounds, no horns. No birds. Just the two of us. If I were a romantic man, I would’ve said the night was perfect.
We turned the corner and the cottage came into view. When she saw the deck, she just shook her head and exhaled loudly. “You are a real pain in the ass, D’Agostino.”
A large jacuzzi tub had been installed today on the deck, surrounded by a new privacy fence. The jacuzzi was the top of the line and cost almost thirty grand. “You said you wanted to soak your pussy.”
Her mouth fell open and she looked over sharply. “You bought this because I was sore? I thought this was one of your upgrades.”
I didn’t say anything.
“You know,” she said. “You make it really fucking hard to be mad at you sometimes.”
We climbed the steps to the deck, and I dropped her hand so I could open the door. “Mad atme? I should spank your ass for worrying everyone. For scaring me half to death today.Andyou told me to fuck off.”
She went inside the cottage and I followed, closing us in. She pointed to a new piece of furniture. “Oh, my god. A new couch, too?”
I hung up my jacket, then took hers and did the same. She wandered over to the kitchen island. “Vito, I don’t want a guard.But if you’re making me have one, at least have the decency and respect for me to tell me why.”
“You believe I don’t respect you?Ma dai,Maggie.”
“What does that phrase mean? That I’m right?”
I gave her a hard stare as I took a bottle of water out of the fridge and set it down in front of her. “No.” I uncapped my own bottle of water. “I’m not telling you why because I want to protect you. Also, I’m giving you a guard to protect you. Everything I’m doing to improve security around here?To protect you.”
“That’s a bullshit answer and you know it.”
I rubbed my jaw and thought about how to proceed. I really didn’t want to fight with her. She drank her water, her gaze never leaving my face.
A bang sounded on the door. We looked over and Maz was outside, white chef coat on, his tattooed arms loaded with covered plates. I let him in and took two of the covered dishes from him.
“Grazie, fratello,” he said and moved toward the island. “I was always a shit waiter.”
After he deposited the rest of his plates, he went over to Maggie. “Ciao, mia cara cognata.” He kissed both her cheeks and I sent up a prayer that she didn’t ask?—
“What does that word mean?” she asked. “Roommate?”
“Sister-in-law,” my brother said, waggling his eyebrows.
She laughed, waving it off. “Yeah, right. He’s counting the days until he’s out of here. And check out his face—he looks like he sucked on a lemon.” To me, she spoke like she was addressing a toddler. “Don’t worry, Vito. No one is getting ideas about commitment.”
I felt my irritation rise with both of them. “Get out, Massimo.”
He chuckled and winked at Maggie. “If you get tired of him, the bong is still in the kitchen. Feel free to help yourself.” Then he gave me an evil grin—which quickly disappeared. “Your sweater is stained. Che cazzo! You sure you’re okay?”
I glanced down. Sure enough, there were tiny blood droplets on my gray sweater. Fuck! How had that happened? I’d taken it off before I started working on that biker.