Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
I'm thankful I'm driving, because it gives me an excuse to look ahead of me and not meet her eyes. Because goddamn, if she didn't just hit the nail on the head.
"I like good whiskey," I say. "Cigars. And I have to admit, even though my apartment isn't very fancy, I do like nice cars."
"OK, great, so you just spent, what, five percent of what you own?" She laughs, shaking her head.
Less than that, but she's right.
“Well,” she says, "I also like chocolate. The really good stuff can be expensive."
"I’ll buy you a chocolate factory."
She snorts. "Very generous of you, but I don't want to actually work there, I just wanna eat all the chocolate."
"I can arrange that."
She talks easily, the whole way to my apartment. It's only a twenty-minute drive, but I must admit, I like hearing her speak.
"We're here."
I watch her take in every detail—the small garden in the front of our building, and the old concrete stairs. She opens the door and steps inside. "Oh my God, Adriano," she breathes. "It's beautiful."
I stand back and let her take her time looking at everything. I have a single bedroom with only a bed, a dresser, and a desk. But there's a large window overlooking the city, and it's calming in here with antique lights instead of glaring modern fixtures. The kitchen is simple and clean, with white cabinets and marble countertops, and I have a few handpicked pieces of vintage artwork on the walls.
When I hired someone to furnish this place, I told them to keep it simple and classy with a nod to historic Italy. They did it perfectly. The walls are painted ivory, with minimal artwork, gleaming, original hardwood floors, and exposed brick walls. There's an antique coffee table, a mid-century modern chair, and a classic leather sofa in the living room. And that’s it.
She squeals when she opens the door to the bathroom, which features a claw-foot bathtub, an antique vanity, and the same antiquated overhead lighting. Beside the tub is a small table with a basket I've filled with her favorite things. I asked Eden for help with that one.
"Either you got snoopy, or you have excellent taste in skin care," she says, lifting one of the small bottles of lotion.
I shrug. "Eden helped me."
"With what? Decorating this place? Because it definitely has her signature style." She turns to face me, shaking her head. "You told me your apartment was simple, but this is amazing. It's so… you."
I look away.
"Glad you like it. We’ll spend a lot of time here when we're not at the club."
While we were in Maine, I had security measures installed here as well. My place is off the books, and only Sergio has my address. Still, she will never stay here alone.
"Let’s get some food."
"On it." I pull up DoorDash on my phone while she wanders into the bedroom.
"Adriano, these flowers are beautiful."
It takes me a second to realize what she just said.
"Quinn, stop!" I bark.
She stands stock-still, her hand extended toward a bouquet of flowers I did not send for.
"Stay right there."
"Adriano," she says, in a small whisper of a voice. "What's the matter?"
"I didn't get those. Don't move."
I pull up my phone and bark out commands, and within seconds, six of my men are in my apartment. "You check the footage," I say to one. "You, check the flowers." My man pales, but he knows if there's anything in those flowers that will hurt my wife, he signed up to take the hit for her.
"Quinn, come here."
And for once in her goddamn life, she does what I say when I tell her, thank fuck.
When she’s safely tucked under my arm, I nod for him to look at them since he’s trained to defuse bombs. He circles the bouquet carefully, walking around it with his eyes trained on the flowers. He swallows, his Adam's apple bouncing up and down, as one of my men checks the security footage, another checks the locks on the windows and doors, another checks the bathroom, the cabinets, and the tub, another checks the other rooms, and the last checks the outside perimeter.
Sergio is the only one with this address, and he's not the type to send me flowers.
"Boss, there's a drone circling the building." Fuck. I've hardly been trying to hide her, but this is more aggressive than even I expected.
"You have enemies, I'm guessing?" she says lightly. I press my fingers to her elbow to ask her silently to be quiet. This is no joking matter.
"Nothing dangerous on the flowers, sir. There is a note."
"Give it to me."
I read the message, curse, then crumple and shove it in my pocket.
"Find the owner of that drone. What does the footage show?"
"Flowers were delivered two hours before you arrived home, Boss. The delivery person was wearing a green polo shirt with the logo of a local florist. Running facial recognition software right now."