Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77359 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77359 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Somehow, I didn’t think so.
I wanted to go curl up in my bed, but then I remembered I wasn’t allowed to sleep there anymore. The hideaway would be better. I wanted to be by myself in a dark, safe space.
So that’s what I did. I huddled under the covers in the little space, pushing away the dark scenarios that intruded in my mind. When my thoughts slowed, I felt tired, as if I’d done physical labor. I hadn’t slept much the night before, so it was easy to let my mind clear and my breathing slow ... and then I drifted off.
19
STEFANO
By the late afternoon, I was in dire need of a break, and I figured Leila might be, too. She’d taken on a lot by trying to go through all those things she’d brought. When her father’s men had first loaded all of her luggage on the plane, Massimo had been pissed. He thought she was materialistic, which wasn’t a surprising take, given how much money her father had demanded in exchange for his New York connections—and his daughter. Not that I knew all the details. I usually made a point of not knowing details like that. But how often did an arranged marriage happen in one’s own family, especially in this day and age?
But I’d never thought Leila was too into possessions, and I was certain of it now. The trunks and suitcases seemed to weigh her down and dealing with them had to be overwhelming. I knew a bit about having something hanging over your neck holding you down—my family did that to me. Or at least the family business.
With my programming skills, I could work from anywhere in the world. Meet a girl. Get married. Have a family. Live a pleasant, carefree life.
Or at least I could have if my last name wasn’t Moretti. And soon Leila’s would be, too. So yeah, she probably knew about burdens.
I heated up some pizza rolls in the kitchen. My Italian ancestors would probably roll over in their grave if they knew, but I liked the fried little snacks. Hopefully Leila would, too. When they were ready, I grabbed them and some drinks and went in search of Leila.
She wasn’t in Massimo’s room—god forbid she actually have a room or an office of her own. She wasn’t out back. Or anywhere that I could see.
Finally, my brain kicked into a higher gear, and I thought of the little secret playroom my brothers and I had used as kids. She’d probably gotten tired and retreated there. Massimo’s room—and his bed—was massive and open. Leila was probably dwarfed by it, but the little hideout seemed the perfect size for her. Like a little dollhouse.
She was asleep when I eased the door open. She looked like a cute little hamster in a nest with all the covers nestled around her. They were pulled up to her neck, and I entertained a brief and not very wholesome fantasy that she’d taken off her clothes for some reason before climbing in. I liked being under covers naked, especially in winter, but it didn’t seem like something she’d do.
A guy could dream, though.
Leila looked so peaceful that I decided to leave her alone, but she woke up as I was backing out. I needed to oil the hinges on the little door—they squeaked.
“Stefano?”
God, her sleepy voice was hot. My mind went into the gutter again. “I brought you a snack, but I can bring it back later.”
She sat up, pushing her thick hair away from her face. “Thank you.”
Since that was all she said, I hesitated. “Do you want it now?”
“No. I’m… good.”
Except she didn’t sound good.
My arousal vanished and concern replaced it. Now that she’d smoothed the hair away from her face, I could see it a little better. There was a line on her soft cheek that looked suspiciously like a tear track. “Are you okay? Did Massimo do something?” As far as I knew, he’d been gone since breakfast. He could’ve upset her before that, but she seemed fine at lunch. More than fine—she’d kissed me back quite enthusiastically afterwards.
“No.” Her voice was soft and low. “I-I just want to be alone for a little while.”
God, I hated seeing her so upset. Before, I’d wanted to lie down next to her and stroke every part of her. But now I just wanted to give her a hug.
But she’d told me what she needed—some space. “Of course.” I turned, ducking down to leave, and she sat up.
“No, I don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t want to be alone. Will you stay with me?” She said it in a rush, as if afraid I’d dash out the door.
“Absolutely.” It meant a lot that she wanted me here, even though something was wrong. Maybe even because of it. That was good—we were family now. She was going to be my sister-in-law. Except the way I felt about her—and the way I couldn’t help but think about her exquisite body—definitely wasn’t in an “in-law” type of way.