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CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

ADALYN

U nease swirled in my gut as I sat at the dinner table beside Marco the following Wednesday.

I had spent the majority of the weekend and early half of the week figuring out the logistics of an idea that had been weighing on my mind since I had witnessed the homeless people loitering last week. I had proposed the idea to my boss at work, who was on board with the idea providing I could get Marco’s approval on it as well…

My heart rate spiked.

I had only one chance to sell him on the idea and to be frank…I was fucking horrible at sales pitches.

“What’s wrong?” Marco’s hand came to rest over mine against the table, gaining my attention.

Ever since we’d returned from Sicily, my seat at the ginormous dining table had changed. During our first dinner back in Chicago, without even thinking I had taken my usual seat at the other end of the table…only for Marco to walk over to me, throw me over his shoulder and deposit me in the chair directly beside his and it had become our unspoken seating arrangement ever since. Not that I minded one bit.

I sighed, pulling my thoughts back to the conversation.

It’s now or never …

“I…wanted to speak with you about something actually,” I admitted.

His eyes flashed to my face and then trailed across my body. I knew there was nothing sexual in the look he was giving me, but heat pooled in my stomach all the same.

I cleared my throat in an attempt to control myself. “I’ve been looking at the numbers from the restaurants at work and noticed a high volume of produce is consistently being discarded every day. Whether it’s food that’s not sold or stuff which is about to expire… It got me thinking. There are so many people that are struggling to feed themselves, wouldn’t it be beneficial to everyone if we put that food to good use?”

Surprisingly, Marco didn’t miss a beat. He nodded, “I agree. What did you have in mind?”

Damn, I love him so much.

I couldn’t help the grin that pulled at my lips. “I’ve already reached out to a few of the food banks closest to the casino and discussed with them how we can best support them. Looking at the numbers over the last quarter, we have a consistent food surplus and so I don’t think we would encounter any issues if we committed to supplying them daily.”

He nodded. “Then we do it.”

“A-are you sure? Don’t you want to see the numbers yourself?” I questioned, keenly aware that this was a potentially important business decision that he was trusting me with.

“There’s no need, I trust your judgment. Whatever resources you need for it to work, they’re yours.” He shrugged, picking up his crystal tumbler and taking a swig. “Have you thought about doing a fundraising ball or something as well?”

I toyed with the idea in my head a moment. “That’s actually a great idea. I’ll speak to Jon about it in the morning.”

Marco smiled at the excitement lining my features. “Then I will leave the planning in your capable hands.” He gracefully rose from his seat, stepping beside me and pressing his lips to the top of my head. “I have to get to a meeting, but I’ll be back later,” he promised as his fingertips skimming my cheek.

“Be careful,” I breathed, meeting his dark gaze so he could see the concern lining my eyes.

His boyish smile flashed in response. “Always.”

Over the next few months, things settled into a new sense of normalcy and routine.

As time wore on, I had started to grow accustomed to the nuances of Marco’s personality and found myself seeing the boy within him more often than ever before. We ate together, slept together, watched TV together, and went out for date nights. We even celebrated Christmas together with his family in Sicily.

I was quickly becoming obsessed with him. Consumed by him.

Marco had sunk beneath my skin, and I had absolutely no intention or desire to get him out.

When I wasn’t with Marco, then the majority of my time was spent working at the casino, planning the fundraising ball Marco had approved or learning recipes with Lucia. Cooking had never been my strong suit, but I was adamant that it one day would be. Marco was nothing if not traditional and while I broke all other interpretations of the word, I wanted to prove to him that I could at least play the part when I wanted to. That I could be what he needed as well as what he wanted .

For the most part, I played my part well. Dutifully dropping off my signature triple chocolate brownies every Sunday morning after he got back from church and organizing coffee when the meetings ran late into the evening.

Having said that—I wasn’t always the dutiful lover.

After all, where would be the fun in that?

In true Adalyn Rossi style, I would push his buttons every now and again just to keep him on his toes.

Acting provocatively in a skimpy bikini by the pool, while Marco and Jesse were having a meeting? No problem. Hoovering the carpet while he’s working late again? Don’t mind if I do. Stripping in the gym because he’s working up a sweat? Absolutely!

It was invigorating, exhilarating, and completely addictive. Risk had never felt so absolutely like reward.

And beyond anything else, I was happy.

But just like all good things—they come to an end eventually.