Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
He tasted her unique flavor in his mouth. He drew the scent of her into his lungs. Then his mouth settled on hers, and flames instantly leapt between them. Roared over them. Through them. Engulfed them. He had no idea how she did that. It wasn’t like he hadn’t kissed a lot of women, but no one had ever swept him up in pure fire before. Or spun him out of control.
He didn’t want to stop, but if they didn’t, there would be no stopping. He lifted his head reluctantly, pressing his forehead to hers for a moment just to breathe her in.
“We must go back downstairs and face whatever Francesca and Taviano have to say. I need a clear head when I listen to them.”
Amaranthe nodded and slipped from his arms. “My jacket.” Amaranthe picked it up from the end of the bed and hugged it to her as if it was a special treasure. “Fiero or Dante remembered. I dropped it on the ground when I dove for the shadow. You said one of them would save it for me, and they did. I forgot all about it until we were on the back porch and the police were questioning Miranda. I didn’t see it and felt terrible that I’d lost it before I even had a chance to enjoy it.”
She hung it in the closet and stood there for a moment staring at the clothes. “Where did all these come from?” She turned to face him. “Honestly, Geno, do you have a magic wand or something? These weren’t here when we left this morning.”
He couldn’t help smiling at her even as he was stripping off his shirt. If she looked at him like that every time he got her something, he’d be buying her gifts every single day. “We can’t be late. I don’t want dinner to be cold. Andrea delivered the clothes I ordered for you to the house and the staff put them away.”
“Staff?” Her voice sounded a little faint. “You have staff?”
“I don’t clean this place on my own. A young widow, Felicia Benson, started a business in our territory to support her three children. Naturally I supported her by using her service to clean the first floor of my home. She did such a stellar job that when she was able to hire more help, I added the second floor and finally the master bedroom. She’s been working here for years.”
Amaranthe leaned against the doorjamb, her gaze instantly sharp and watchful. “Do you keep track of the help she hires? Anyone coming into your home? Did she clean your parents’ home? What about the shops where the others were murdered?”
That was why he was so completely in love with her. She looked like an angel, kissed like sin and that mind of hers never stopped working.
“There’s an alert anytime anyone applies for work at any of the businesses in our territories, particularly ones we use or frequent. Our investigators immediately go to work finding out everything they can about them.”
She nodded, but still looked thoughtful as she gathered clothes and headed for the shower off the library. Geno would have preferred to have her shower with him, but they never would have made it to dinner. He made up his mind she was staying in his bed with him.
* * *
• • •
There were no tables set up for their bodyguards. The Ferraros had never been elitists, not when it came to private family. If they were up very late and expected their personal protectors to be as well, they fed them. Geno realized not even Enzo and Emilio were seated in the room, and Francesca treated them as members of the family. The only ones seated at the dining room table were Taviano, Francesca and Nicoletta. Whatever Taviano had to say was extremely confidential.
Amaranthe was dressed in dark purple leggings and a lavender sweater that fell to her knees. Her dark hair was still wet from her shower, but she’d braided it and wound the braid in a crown-like knot on her head. Geno found that fascinating. As a rule, her hair was a little wild and out of control, with the thick mass of curls in direct proportion to the humidity. This was more like her ballet hair or rider hair. Strictly under control. Straitlaced. He slid his palm down her arm until he could thread his fingers through hers. He led her around the table to the chairs directly opposite Taviano and the women. He wanted to be able to catch every expression on his cousin’s face when he said whatever it was he had come to say.
Taviano rose at once and gave Amaranthe his charming smile. “I certainly hope this meal ends better than the last two have.”
“If it doesn’t, we’re eloping. The hell with engagement parties,” Geno groused.