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After we finished eating, I told him to keep his butt in the chair and dashed to the kitchen. Earlier, when the sauce was on the stove, I made his mother’s cannoli. I had to call three markets and have a special delivery to get the same hazelnuts and mini dark chocolate chips she used. Tonight, I wanted to remind Julian of all the things he loved.

I have the cannoli recipe memorized. I make them every Christmas for gifts and mail them to large shelter donors. People have told me they look forward to receiving them every year.

So far, the night has gone perfectly.

We’re on our second bottle of wine, and conversation has felt normal.

Well, normal for what you get with Julian.

He’s speaking more than six words in an hour, period, so that’s progress.

When he said he saw me as the most beautiful woman on this earth, I wanted to throw everything off the table, climb over it, and straddle him. I’d never heard him say anything so nice toanyone.

My reserved Julian broke out of his dark cocoon tonight for me.

Day by day, he’s unraveling his layers, letting me see more of who he really is deep down.

His compliment about his mother loving me adds to my joy of the night.

He helps me clear the table after dessert. I’m shocked at how much he’s helping me. I always had dinner at his parents’ home, and the men never helped the women clean up. He stands beside me at the counter, handing me dishes as I load them into the dishwasher.

Everything feels so domesticated.

So, unlike everything he swore he’d never give me.

As I arch forward to shut the dishwasher, I feel a sharp sting on my ass. I whip around to find Julian standing a few inches away, twirling the dish towel in his hand.

“You jerk!” I yelp, hopping back and covering my ass with my hands. “That hurt!”

He twirls the towel in his hand again, a devious smirk on his face. “Oh, come on. That was a love tap.”

Just like his behavior tonight, I’m getting such a different man from Julian Bellini, murderous, high-ranking man in the Mafia.

No suit, only casual sweats.

No serial killer demeanor, instead playful.

I love this side of him, and if he keeps it up, I’ll keep wanting more.

I match his amusement. “A love tap, huh?” Opening the small drawer beside the sink, I snatch another dish towel. “How about I return the love tap then?”

He drops back a step, walking backward, but doesn’t stop spinning the towel. I wildly whip my towel in the air, stepping closer, as if preparing to spar with someone. Though if this were a real spar, the audience would for sure be laughing at my theatrics.

Julian laughs.

The first one I’ve ever heard from him.

It’s the sexiest laugh in the world, swear to God.

A husky laugh, coming straight from his stomach, though a bit hoarse, like it was lying dormant there for years.

He stretches out his arm, catching me off guard, and easily snatches my towel from me.

Well, shit.

My shoulders slump, and I pout.

He tosses both towels over his shoulder, and they land on the floor. “As much as I love spanking, I’d much rather do it when we’re naked.”