“Right,” he says. “Why are you in my office at nine o’clock at night, Jacob?”
“I came to let you know it’s over. I might have accidentally erased all evidence The Court had on your organization. I was removing the Van Baron and Levine families’ access to the database, and I think I hit the wrong button.” I shrug.
Carlo smiles. “Mistakes happen.”
“They do,” I agree. I turn to walk out before stopping. Turning back, I meet Carlo’s eyes. “I do love her. Just so you know. I would do anything for her and I will spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of her.”
“I know you love her. If I thought for a second you didn’t, you wouldn’t be in my house,” he says. “If you ever break her heart again, though, I will fucking kill you, and they won’t find your body.”
“I won’t. I’m going to marry her.” I smile.
“From what I hear, she says you haven’t asked her that question yet.” Carlo smirks.
“I’ve been waiting,” I tell him. “I am taking her home now.”
“You’re taking her to your house?”
I nod.
“That’s not her home. This will always be her home. But I suppose she does want a change of scenery.” He sighs.
“Thank you.” I leave his office and run up the stairs in search of my girl. I’m eager to get her home, to actually start our lives together.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jake walks into my bedroom. His steps are quick, his strides long as he approaches me. His hands cup my face and then his lips are on mine in a breath-stealing kiss.
His tongue pushes into my mouth. Seeking. Circling. I’m a panting mess by the time he pulls away. I smile stupidly up at him. “Well, hello to you too.”
“I fucking love you, Jasmine Bianchi,” he says.
“Right back at ya, Jacob Westmead.”
He lets go of me and heads into my closet. I follow him. Curious as to what he’s doing, I watch as he pulls down an overnight bag. And then starts opening drawers.
“What are you doing?” I ask aloud as he rummages through my underwear, placing a few pairs of panties into the bag.
“Packing you a bag. I’m taking you home.”
“Seriously? I get to leave this house?”
“You get to come home, Jazzy.” The way he says it tells me he’s not talking about Aces.
“Home? Where exactly is this home, Jake?”
“Wherever you want it to be. You want to go to the estate or my penthouse?”
“What about my place?”
He stops what he’s doing, turns, and looks at me. “You want to live above a casino? I mean, we can. I’m not sure it will be all that suitable when we have kids.”
My mouth hangs open. “If this is your way of asking me to move in with you, you really need to work on your delivery,” I tell him.
“Jazzy, we’re going to live together. The where doesn’t matter, as long as you and I are sharing the same space,” he says, and I swoon a little.
“What if I don’t want to live at your parents’ estate or at your penthouse?”
“Then we can stay somewhere else temporarily while we shop around for a new place,” he says.