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Not one for negotiating, it seemed.
He grabbed two plates from the cupboard. “Thought you ran every morning.”
I almost didn’t hear him over how shirtless he was.
I pursed my lips. “I’ve decided it doesn’t suit me.”
He gave me a dark look. “If you decide it does suit you, use the treadmill in the spare room upstairs. You can’t run the streets like you used to.”
My smile was sweet. “You have a way of making me feel so very liberated.”
He wasn’t amused. “What are your plans for dance?”
I hadn’t signed up for another class since the recital and I didn’t think I was going to. Although, now I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get out of the house any other way.
“I haven’t decided.”
He filled two plates while I poured a cup of coffee. This man had given me an orgasm and made me breakfast. The former I had only hoped for, the latter I hadn’t imagined. I was beginning to wonder what he wanted with me. I would be a poor excuse of a wife.
He leaned against the counter, giving me all of his autocratic attention. “If you decide to go back, we’ll have to find you a new studio.”
I paused. “Why?”
“I don’t trust your papà’s streets.”
My eyes narrowed.
He noticed and returned the look. “You’re awfully loyal to t
he wrong people.” Annoyance coated his voice.
“You mean my family? Those people?” I raised a brow. “There’s nothing wrong with my papà’s streets.”
The unimpressed expression he gave me said driveby loud and clear.
I had nothing substantial to respond with, so I reflected. “Maybe I don’t trust your streets.”
“You won’t be an Abelli for much longer. If you’re going to dance or whatever else it is you do, you’re doing it on my streets.” He added with a dark tone, “And forget sucking anyone’s life away.”
A shiver went through me as I realized I would be Elena Russo in a short amount of time. I forced a sigh to hide my unsettlement.
“You’re dreadfully totalitarian today.”
“Just shy of psychotic, then?” His eyes sparked. “Guess I’d better up my game.”
As we stared at each other, three feet apart, something heavy flowed into the kitchen. A languid, hot, and suggestive air. My heart thumped the heavy beats of a drum. He stood there, half-naked, so much man. And I knew that if I remained silent, something was going to happen. Everything was going to change. Just before eight a.m. on a Sunday. Unease, anticipation, and a sliver of panic flooded me.
I knew something about the next step would break my heart.
“Please do,” I breathed. “So I know what to expect.” The words cut through the thick haze, clearing the air.
He watched me for another second. Shook his head. And then pushed off the counter.
“Eat your breakfast. We’re leaving in twenty.”
“Where are we going?”
He grabbed a magazine off the island and dropped it on the counter in front of me. The advertisement said Show and Shine Car Show.