Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 142938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Vittorio was wearing faded denim that looked soft and vintage, with a few real threadbare spots, as if he’d owned the jeans for a very long time. They were button up versus having a zipper and the top button was undone. They rode low on his hips and shaped the powerful columns of his thighs. She liked his casual look. His shirt was tight, stretched across his thick chest, as if every muscle was straining to break free.
She searched for something to say that made sense, so she wouldn’t blurt out how much she liked his casual clothes. “I need to call my boss.”
“That would be a good idea. Katie has called several times, mostly to inquire about your progress, but I could hear a sense of urgency in her voice this last time.”
She liked that he didn’t protest her needing to check in with her boss. She didn’t want to think he was trying to take over and control her life. “I’ll call her after breakfast.”
She made an effort to pay attention to where they were going. The house was so big with so many doors that she was really afraid if she was left on her own, she’d get lost. Already, she could smell freshly brewed coffee.
“I missed half the rooms we passed because I was looking at your feet.” If he didn’t have her hand pressed to his ribs, she would have slapped it over her mouth. So much for not blurting out ridiculous things.
“I’m looking at yours. I think my feet are at least twice the size of yours. Maybe more.” There was amusement in his voice.
His ability to find humor in things was one of the most endearing traits about him. She flashed him a smile and then regarded their feet as they walked along the gleaming floor. He was right, her foot was probably half the size of his. “How tall are you?”
“At least a foot taller than you,” he pointed out.
She made a face at him. “I suppose I’ll have to concede you’re right about that. I can’t argue facts.”
“You never argue with me.” Vittorio turned her hand over and pressed a kiss into the center of her palm. “I like that you don’t pick a fight just for the sake of argument.”
“It would be a little difficult to do that with you. You’re pretty reasonable, Vittorio.”
He led her into a very large kitchen. There was a small, intimate table already set with dishes and warmers. He led her straight to it and pulled back her chair for her. “There are three dining areas. This one, which is perfect for the two of us in the mornings,” he told her, seating her. “The two larger dining areas have varying views. One is a bit larger than the other; in other words, if my family comes over, we use that one.” He flashed a small grin at her.
His smile was warm, impossible to ignore, and did something to her insides, making her feel happy. Happiness wasn’t something she was used to feeling and it shocked her a little. “You have a very large family.” The women came and went very quickly in the morning, helping her to shower and dress and then they simply were gone, disappearing as if they’d never been.
“We’re loud and always in one another’s business,” he pointed out. “But we always have one another’s backs.”
The way he said it, she wondered why they would need to stand for one another—as if they had problems similar to hers. She doubted they had had a serial killer after them until she’d brought one with her.
Before she could remind him of Haydon stalking them all, he turned the conversation back to his earlier subject. “Do you really think I’m reasonable? Not every woman would think it was reasonable that I need to take care of my lady. In fact, I think most wouldn’t like it, Grace.”
She looked up at his face. There was a hint of worry there and that shocked her. Vittorio was the most confident man she’d ever met, and in her profession, she routinely met CEOs of powerful businesses. Such men didn’t worry about what other people thought. They did what they thought best and expected everyone else to get with the program. And yet the look in Vittorio’s eyes told her that, to her at least, he was vulnerable—that her good opinion mattered to him. On the heels of that realization came the immediate and compelling need to reassure him, to erase that hint of doubt.
“Vittorio, I love the way you are with me. For my business, I make decisions all day, argue with vendors and push and push to get what I want for my clients. By the time I go home, I think my brain is fried. I don’t want to make another decision or think about anything until I go to work the next morning. I imagine most people are like that. You’ve given me this opportunity to actually relax and I appreciate it more than you will ever know. It’s been a relief not to have to think too much about anything. I realize that’s unrealistic and that sooner or later I have to come to some decisions and take back charge of my life, but for right now, it’s been the most amazing three weeks in spite of the pain in my shoulder, so thank you.”