The Woman at the Docks (Grassi Framily)

"I, ah, I thought I locked the door," she said, a razor still in her hand.

"I should have knocked," I told her, shaking my head, embarrassed for the invasion as the need to reach out and touch her gripped my system.

"I'll get out. I can finish this later."

"No." The word slipped out too quickly, a bit desperate, and I wondered if she knew it was because I was battling a raging fucking hard-on and didn't want her to know. I needed to go back to my room and take a couple deep breaths, get my shit together. "It's fine. Finish up. Let me know when you're out," I told her, going back out, shutting the door, leaning back against the wall directly outside, eyes closing, taking a shaky breath.

"You gonna try to say that was a mistake?" Lucky asked, making my eyes shoot open, finding him standing there with a takeaway coffee in his hand, giving me a smirk.

"You better have brought one of those for me," I told him, knowing it was going to be a long day.

"I didn't bring shit. Your Senior Kiss-Ass brought something for everyone. Even that pretty girl in there."

"How did Dario know what she would want?" I asked, ideas of going back to bed forgotten.

"He brought her four different things," Lucky said, shaking his head. "Like I said, kiss-ass."

"Easy," I told him, knowing the two didn't get on well, but not wanting any outward animosity among my men. It made us look weak.

We all talked business, compared notes about what everyone had learned so far. Which wasn't much, but it had only been a few hours.

About ten minutes later, I could feel the air in the room change, knowing that Romy had walked in behind me, making me turn to find her standing there in black leggings and a gray tank top, her hair falling around her bare shoulders.

No bra.

Which was made pretty obvious by the cold air and the thin material, making that desire issue rear up once again.

"Oh, hey," she said, looking off-put at the men gathered around her gaze going to me first. "I'm all done in there," she told me, giving me a small smile.

I gave her a nod. "Dario brought you some coffee options. Pick one out. I'll be back in ten," I told her, watching as her gaze went to Lucky, her second friendly face since Michael was off his shift, replaced with some guys she didn't know.

With that, I took a quick shower, reaching down, knowing I would never be able to think straight if I didn't deal with some of the desire already. With images of Romy in my head, it wasn't exactly a drawn-out affair.

I dried and dressed, foregoing a shave—uncharacteristic of me, but I didn't want to waste any more time—then heading back to the kitchen, finding Romy hopped up on the counter, her long legs dangling, a coffee between both hands, watching as Lucky flipped a frying pan in the air before settling it on the burner.

"Apparently, Lucky can cook," she told me, sounding amazed by the possibility.

He shot her a smile, shrugging. "My ma hopes I settle down with a woman who likes to cook for me, but she insisted that cooking was a life skill and her sons needed to know how to feed themselves too. You cook, babe?" he asked, reaching into the fridge for eggs one of the men must have brought with them this morning since Michael had only picked up a few bare essentials food-wise.

"Yeah. My mom taught me too. Different types of food than you learned, I think, but I make a mean Venezuelan specialty. They might even beat your chef's fancy bread thing from last night," she said, teasing him.

"Well, your cooking might surpass my chef's Panzanella, but it is not going to beat my omelet."

"Oh, come on. Everyone can make a good omelet," she told him, getting a hair tug from Lucky as he moved past her on the way back to the fridge to grab spinach, mushrooms, and mozzarella cheese.

"You're going to be eating those words, pretty thing," he assured her.

I'd had one of Lucky's concoctions. And I had to admit, they often rivaled even the most intricate meals from the women in the family.

I stood back, my black coffee giving me agita. Or, let's be real, the scene before me might have been doing that.

I was not a jealous man. I'd never been serious enough about a woman to feel that way. So it took me an embarrassingly long time to recognize the churning in my stomach and chest for what they were.

Once I did, though, there was no denying it.

It shouldn't have surprised me that Romy would take to Lucky. Women often did. From kids to elderly women, they all liked him. He was fun and charming.

But I guess a part of me didn't want that to be true with Romy.