Angelo (The Marchesi Family 2)

I called him but got no answer.

I dressed quickly, not even bothering to shower.

Why the fuck wasn’t he in bed with me? And if he’d actually been there, why hadn’t he woken me?

What if he and Devil had found Sergio and killed him, but now that I was safe, Angelo was done with me? No, he wouldn’t… I was sure he felt something for me, and I still hadn’t paid off my debt.

When I reached the stairs, I saw Peter coming down from the third floor. “Have you seen Angelo?”

Peter frowned. “He’s not with you?”

“No.”

“Lucien didn’t come to bed either.”

Where were they?

A door opened down the hall, and we both turned. It was Sabrina. “If you’re looking for your men, they’re probably passed out downstairs. I couldn’t sleep knowing they were out, and around midnight, I went to the kitchen to make some tea and discovered them all drunk off their asses in the sitting room.

“Do you know what happened?”

“No details. They weren’t clear-headed enough for those, but Angelo and Devil took care of our problem.”

I wasn’t sure I should be so happy a man was dead, but I didn’t want to be looking over my shoulder all day.

“I told them to go to bed so you two would know they were safe, but I’m not sure they could have made it up the stairs.”

Peter huffed. “Lucien usually manages to stagger up to bed no matter how drunk he gets. He says he needs sleep if he’s going to function the next day.”

“Yet somehow, no matter what he says, he’s always perfectly fresh and ready for work in the morning.” Sabrina sounded thoroughly disgusted.

“Yeah,” Peter said, “he’s fucking magical.”

I tried to summon a laugh, but I couldn’t. Angelo should have known how worried I’d be. My mind kept replaying the look on his face as he’d shot the men who’d attacked me. He had treated their deaths so casually. I’d known he was a killer, but seeing it, knowing they were certain there would be no consequences for the deaths, and listening to him make plans to go kill again scared me. Could I live like this, knowing this wouldn’t be the last war the Marchesis would fight against an enemy, knowing Angelo could be out ending someone’s life any night of the week, knowing someone could… That he might not come home to me? And yet, no matter how disturbed I was by Angelo’s ease with a gun, watching him take those men out so fucking efficiently had made my heart race and made me want to pull him to me and kiss him until we lost ourselves in each other. I wanted him. I wanted his protection, and if seeing him kill wasn’t going to deter me, nothing was.

But did he still want me?

I followed Peter and Sabrina downstairs. When we peeked into the sitting room, I saw Angelo sprawled on a sofa, one arm and one leg hanging off. Devil’s head was hanging over one arm of a chair and his legs were over the other. Lucien was curled on his side on the plush carpet. They didn’t look very dangerous now.

“Go on and wake him up,” Sabrina said, but I shook my head.

“I’m already late for work. I need to meet with my contractor.”

“How is Nick?” Sabrina asked. “I adore him, and I’m so glad he started his own business.”

“He’s been phenomenal, especially considering how I’ve flaked out on him this week.”

“I’m sure he understands,” Peter said.

I hoped so. It was hard to know what I could say about my situation and what I couldn’t. I needed to find the money to give him a really good bonus.

Despite knowing that Sergio was dead, Six and Muffin still accompanied me to the bakery.

Nick had left to get a few parts he needed to finish installing the track lighting over the kitchen workspace, but Maria was in the kitchen, sipping coffee and eating one of the filled croissants she’d just made.

She held one out to me. “Try this, and tell me what you think.”

I was thrilled to have something to focus on so I didn’t keep looking at the floor where two bodies had lain twelve hours ago. Lucien was right, there was no trace of the blood that had been there. And there’d been no police inquiry.

As I took the pastry from her, I realized I was starving. For the first time since I’d moved into Angelo’s house, I hadn’t had one of Lola’s amazing breakfasts. I wondered what she thought about the three men sleeping in the sitting room. Had she woken them up by now to force feed them a hangover breakfast? The thought made me smile.

I bit into the pastry and groaned. “You made them with the salted caramel cream.”

Maria smiled. “I did. I told you not all your ideas for changes were bad.”