Page 14 of The One Night Match (Mafia Matchmaker #1)

FOURTEEN

CRUZ

“ L ittle fucking bastard,” I mutter as I move into the kitchen, leaving my new wife fawning over my mortal enemy.

Is it kinda weird for a Mafia boss’s enemy to be a cat? Yes.

But believe me, if you met this little fucker, you’d understand.

Except Riley doesn’t. She fell for him the second he sauntered up to her with his innocent little face. Meanwhile, she’s planning to leave me at the end of the ninety days.

Absolutely the fuck not.

No way.

I’ll show her how good things can be here, how good we can be together. And if she wants ten more cats, all the same level of dickish as Asshole, then fine. I can live with that.

Apparently, there’s nothing I can’t live with other than losing her.

I tug two beers from the refrigerator and lean back against the bench, taking a long pull of my own bottle while the other sits untouched and waiting for her.

It’s only a few minutes before she pads in, her feet bare and her body more relaxed now she’s finally out of her heels.

She eyes the beer on the counter, and I twist the top before handing it to her.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, taking a long drink. “How’d you know I’d drink this?”

I shrug. “Just had a hunch, I guess.”

Not a lie, but also not the complete truth. Every time I got her a drink tonight, I’d return with a glass of champagne for her and a beer for myself, only to watch her look longingly at my drink. I would have given it to her if she’d asked, but she always took the champagne without argument.

I have a feeling my kitten is used to trying to fit herself into other people’s expectations. But that will be ending. She can be whoever the fuck she wants to be, and I won’t watch her try to change herself just to meet society’s standards of what a perfect Mafia wife should look like.

“I’m changing his name to Sunshine.”

I drop my head back and groan. “That cat is no one’s sunshine. I’m telling you, he’s the devil sent here to make me repent for my sins.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re being dramatic. He’s so sweet, he should have a sweet name.”

“And Sunshine is what you landed on?”

“Yep.”

“What about Frank?”

She scrunches up her nose. “No. I’m not giving him a grumpy old man name.”

“But he is a grumpy old man!” I argue.

She rolls her eyes. “What about Mr. Whiskers? Does that suit him better?”

I force a calming breath into my lungs and nod. “Fine. I’ll call the vet on Monday and get his name updated.”

“Your vet knows you named him Asshole?” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you have such beef with a sweet little ball of fluff.”

“He doesn’t have a sweet bone in his body.” I drain my beer and leave the empty by the trash for my housekeeper to deal with.

My sister was right. I am messy by nature, but I’ve gotten better since I moved out of our family home and into my own place.

“I planned to have all your stuff taken to your room, but I thought you might want to have some of your possessions around the living spaces and didn’t want you having to lug them back down here. If you sort through what you want where, I’ll take them wherever you want.”

Her brows tug together, confusion washing over her before a flash of sadness shoots through her vibrant eyes. She blinks it away and shakes herself off. “That’s okay. I can deal with it. I’m pretty tired. Could you please show me to wherever I’ll be sleeping?”

I swallow heavily, knowing the plan was for her to sleep in her own room at the other end of the hall from mine, but now that she’s here, I’m not sure I can handle having her so close and yet so far.

I step around the kitchen island and press my hand to the small of her back, guiding her toward the stairs as I desperately try to think of a way I can take her to my room.

There’s a longing inside me that’s so foreign it took me a while to identify it. I long to sleep with Riley pressed against me, to have her body curled in my arms, her gentle snores filling my bedroom. I want to wake her up with kisses before giving her unbelievable pleasure for breakfast.

But it’s too soon.

Giving her space is the right thing to do, even if it goes against everything I need right now.

I stop at the top of the stairs and push the door open.

Riley steps past me, her soft gasp filling me with pride and dread simultaneously. Maybe I should have made this room uninhabitable. That way, she’d have to stay with me.

Or one of the four other guest rooms, I tell myself.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable in your own room to begin with, while we get to know each other better.”

It sounds so fucking stupid now. An idea that was born out of my own need to not let a stranger into my space is now backfiring in my face.

“It’s beautiful,” she says softly. She sits on the edge of the bed, and the exhaustion in her eyes is the only thing that keeps me from crossing the room, flipping her onto her hands and knees, and fucking her so hard she’ll be feeling me for a week.

“When you’re ready to move into the master with me, I’ll move everything over.”

She nods. “Thanks, Cruz. For everything.”

“Anytime, Kitten.” I force a smile to my lips, but my chest constricts painfully as I reach for the door, intending to close it when I leave. “Yell out if you need anything. Sleep well.”

It takes everything I have in me to close the door and walk to the other end of the hall, leaving my bedroom door open just a fraction in case she decides to join me and giving Asshole the opening he needs to pee in my closet the way he likes to.

It turns out a man like me can be soft—it just takes the right woman to make it happen.

I toss and turn for hours, unable to turn my mind off.

There are a million things running through my brain, and none of them are allowing me the rest I need after an emotionally charged few days.

Once I’m certain I’m not going to be able to sleep, I slip out of bed and walk down the hallway, pausing outside Riley’s bedroom door.

I shouldn’t peek inside. It would be an invasion of privacy, and it might make her less likely to want to try this thing for real.

But my need to see her wins out.

I push the door open slowly, watching her from the doorway for a few minutes, eyes locked on the way her chest rises and falls in gentle movements.

She looks so peaceful in her sleep, like she doesn’t have a single care in the world. But I know that’s not the case.

My poor kitten is plagued with the weight of the expectations of others, and I long to carry that load for her, to give her the space to be whoever the fuck she wants to be.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I cross the room and carefully slip beneath the covers on the other side of the bed to her.

I won’t stay long. I’ll take my fill of watching her sleep, and then I’ll go back to my room.

Just a few minutes should be enough.