I had abandoned all other desires I'd had. I had been a perfect Capo, a perfect son, a role model for younger men in our families, but this—I wouldn't deny myself this.
My sisters often talked about soulmates, dreaming out loud about the man who would come and sweep them off their feet. Well, one of my sisters dreamed of that. The other one would rather see the man bleeding, and consider that the best fucking present. Regardless, I always mocked my youngest sister, Clara, for ever wanting something like that.
Love was for fools. Love was for those who had nothing to lose. Love was for those who didn't have the weight of the world on their shoulders.
I always expected that I would need to marry one of the daughters from some other family, but never had I expected to find what I was looking forwithout even searching for it. To say that I didn't expect her would be an understatement of the year, but now that I had her here, in my house, so close to me, I didn't know how to let go.
Gio and Damian kept their mouths shut, but I knew they were both as confused by this situation as Ajla was, and I had no answers for any of them. I had no proper reason to keep her here.
The background check Damian did came back squeaky clean. This was the first—and if I had anything to say about it, the only—date she had ever gone on with Johnny. She had no ties to our world, with one exception—her friend Anna. I wondered if she knew who her friend truly was and that the trips she was taking weren't just regular family trips.
Alas, it wasn't my place to tell her, and if her friend wanted to tell her, she would. I understood the need for secrecy, pretending to be normal just for a little while. Had we met under different circumstances, I too would hide the fact that I belonged to the underworld of Redmont.
I would've done everything in my power to get her to fall in love with me before telling her about my real business. But the more time I'd spent with her, the more obvious it was that she wasn't so fazed by the fact that I was the Capo. Most people wouldscream and cry and beg for me to let them go, but her shock was short lived and the only thing she kept focusing on was the fact that we weren't compatible.
Whatever the fuck she meant by that.
So instead of walking from one corner of that room I had assigned to myself to the other, I decided to go down to the kitchen and try to cook something. Mariella, the woman who was as old as my mother, wouldn’t be coming until seven in the morning, and I didn't want to wait that long.
I had to do something with my hands.
I had to distract myself from going into her room, trying to slip inside that bed.
So here I was, trying to cook, when I had no idea what to do. The last thing I expected was to see Ajla, standing at the entrance to the kitchen, wearing my T-shirt and a smile she probably didn't even know she was sporting.
I knew we weren't talking about cooking or anything related to the kitchen, but I couldn't ignore the grumbling of her stomach. I also had to distract myself from the fact that she wasn't looking at me as something that needed to be solved anymore, but something—someone—she wanted. I thought I saw the desire swirling in those blue depths when I cornered her in the bathroom, but itwas nothing compared to the way she was looking at me now.
"Uh." I scratched my head, looking down at the eggs in front of me and the ruined cheese sandwich I'd tried making earlier. "Is it too late to say that I actually don't know how to cook?"
Her laughter had me turning around, and I remembered again why I stationed myself in front of the stove instead of looking at her. She was sitting on top of the island, her bare legs dangling over the edge, and with my shirt riding high up over her thighs, I could see the edge of my boxers peeking through. I stepped to the side, away from the stove, and gripped the marble top behind me, trying to stop myself from going to her.
She was a little vixen and she didn't even know it.
"I was waiting for you to say something," she laughed. Full-on laughter, not like one of those practiced, cute smiles so many women tried to use around me. She pushed herself off the island and stepped right in front of me. "Let me show you how it's done."
She pulled out a couple of eggs from the carton and turned on the stove, placing the pan right on top as I struggled to keep my eyes off her.
The dark hair that was looselyaround her shoulders earlier was now haphazardly tied into some sort of a knot on top of her head, giving me full access to her profile.
"You're staring," she mumbled, focusing on mixing the eggs in the bowl.
"I know," I said, and I wasn't going to stop. "What are you going to do about it?"
It was as if a switch had been flipped, and that soft look on her face completely disappeared as she looked at me, still mixing the eggs. Her eyes turned predatory, her lips parted, and god-fucking-dammit, whatever she had on her mind I wanted to hear it.
"Wouldn't you like to know."
I would, actually. I was desperate to know.
"But," she looked back down at the pan as she added the eggs, letting them sizzle. "If you're a good boy, I might show you."
My cock turned rock hard. My fucking heart slammed against my ribcage, and the sudden urge to beg her, to plead with her just to tell me, almost took me down on my knees. I gripped the marble top harder, my knuckles turning white, while the need to have her order me around coursed through my veins.
This was... unexpected, to say the least.
But the more I thought about it, the more I imagined it—fuuuuuck.... I wanted her to takecontrol. I wanted to give her the control I held onto, and then I wanted to show her how good I could make her feel. I was almost on my knees for her and she didn't even do anything yet. What would happen when we finally finished our breakfast?
Would she really tell me what she had on her mind?