Page 20 of The Sun & Her Burn

“And you don’t have the time for it,” I pointed out. “You could, if I just hired someone to—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” she snapped, thrusting her finger at me.

I caught it, using her own momentum by tugging on the digit to pull her forward and unseat her from her surfboard. My free hand caught her by the hip as she tipped forward, catching her and settling her smoothly in my lap, her thighs draped over my own, her hair curtaining us as she stared down into my face with a shock-slack mouth.

I took advantage of her surprise to press my point. “I know you do not want to feel like you are using me, so I will let this go for now. But if I see an opportunity to help you, Linnea, I willdo it. If there is an audition I can help you land, a nurse I can pay for, a meal I can treat you to at the end of a long day, I will do it even if you hate me for being high-handed. This is how a man like me loves a woman, you understand? I care for her, even when she refuses to care for herself.”

I watched her long neck as she swallowed thickly, my gaze traveling up to that ridiculously full mouth. She licked her lips, and it felt like a dare.

Kiss me, it said.

Madonna santa, I wanted to.

“I won’t take a hand out,” she repeated, this time breathlessly.

I could feel the brush of her hard nipples through the wet fabric of her suit against my chest.

“But you will accept my help if I offer a reasonable solution?” I pushed.

“If you offer a reciprocal solution,” she countered, and her hands reached up to play with the hair at the nape of my neck in a way that made me shiver. “But the moment it feels like you are pitying me or I am taking advantage of you, it’s over. Your friendship means more to me than anything else.”

“Accordo,” I said. “Deal.”

“I won’t be another person in your life who takes from you,” she shocked me by whispering.

I was still reeling from the comment and wondering at her insight when she ducked slightly to press a feather-light kiss over my mouth. Before I could respond, she was slipping out of my lap like a seal, smoothly diving into the water to emerge belly down on her surfboard. I watched as she cut smoothly away from me, timing her escape so she dropped into the bowl of a wave and rode it on sharp cuts back into the shore.

Leaving me oddly aroused and emotionally sore, bobbing on the ocean alone.

It wasn’tuntil the following week that the idea came to me.

I was eating at Nobu in Malibu with my sister Elena, and her husband, Dante, who were in town for work, and Dante’s pseudo-father, a man named Amadeo Salvatore whom everyone called Tore. I didn’t know or particularly like the man, but he had become a staple at family gatherings over the years due to his close relationship with Dante, Elena, and, for some reason, my twin sister, Cosima. Even Mama seemed caught up in his web. I often caught them whispering heatedly in the kitchen at family dinners, but when I pressed her about it, she always evaded.

Still, I was happy to see Elena. Growing up, we had not been particularly close, but the past ten years had changed her immensely and brought us closer than ever. She had been through more than most people ever survived in a whole lifetime, and it had made her the strongest and smartest woman I knew. She’d cut a man to ribbons with her sharp tongue, and she would protect any of her loved ones until her last breath.

It made me immeasurably happy to know that she had the love and devotion of a man like Dante Salvatore. The infamous mafioso, with a criminal record as long as my arm, was a complete sap for Elena and their children, Aurora, Chiara, and Amadeo.

The kids were with one of Dante’s “men” at their hotel so that the four of us could have a late dinner in relative peace.

Or, more accurately, so Elena could grill me about my life.

“I saw a photo of you with some blond woman in the tabloids this morning,” she mentioned as Dante served her from a platterof sashimi. “An ‘unidentified woman’ practically sitting in your lap on a surfboard at Topanga Beach.”

I slanted her a cool look. “Since when do you read the tabloids, Lena?”

“She has an alert set for each of her siblings,” Dante divulged, ignoring his wife’s glare. “She likes to stay on top of what’s happening with you in case she needs to intervene.”

“Intervene?” I asked with a raised brow before popping a bite of miso black cod into my mouth.

“Legally,” Dante explained. “Or illegally, if she asks for my help.”

I laughed at him as Elena swatted his shoulder. Dante caught her hand and tugged her in close to kiss her mouth.

“You are the most frustrating man,” she told him, but her voice was soft, almost sweet.

“You are the most infuriating woman,” he countered through a broad smile before sliding his hand under her hair and kissing her again.

“They’re sickening, aren’t they?” Tore asked me, leaning closer conspiratorially.