Underboss (With Me in Seattle Mafia 1)

“That’s how it felt.” I sigh, letting the tension from the last couple of weeks go. “I’m glad it’s over. Still, I hurt for Annika. But we had a great talk last night, and I know she’s going to be okay.”

“She’s going to be amazing. And now it’s time for you to rest, relax, and let me take care of you for a while.”

“I’m perfectly capable—”

He covers my mouth with his, playfully at first, but then it turns intense, and all I can do is grip onto him and return the kiss.

Finally, he pulls away and kisses my chin lightly. “Just enjoy, Nadia. For once in your life, don’t overthink it.”

“You talked me into it.”

Chapter 13

~Carmine~

“You could shop anywhere in Paris,” I say to Nadia as she leads me down a little cobblestone street tucked back in a corner off the left bank of the Seine in Paris. “And this is where you want to go?”

“Yes.” She tugs on my hand and smiles at me. We arrived in Paris yesterday morning and spent the day in our suite at the Ritz, sleeping and fucking, recovering from jet lag.

This morning, she was ready to explore the city.

After I had my way with her in the shower.

“There’s a little shop tucked away back here,” she says as we stroll along the uneven sidewalk. “And it’s the best. Just wait until you see it.”

There are many little shops along this street, all selling different things—clothes, jewelry, art. But the store she stops at has me scratching my head.

“This?”

“Yep.” She climbs the three uneven steps and tries the knob, but it’s locked. “Jean Luc must be on a break. Oh, there he is.”

She grins as an older man with little hair, wrinkled, leathery skin, and what’s left of a cigarette burning in his mouth walks up with a frown.

“I only come for you,” he says gruffly.

They don’t hug or even exchange pleasantries, but he unlocks the door, and Nadia steps inside with an excited flourish.

I’m even more confused when I follow her.

The store is no bigger than my bathroom at home, and every surface is covered with things. If I were a claustrophobic man, I’d turn around and leave.

But I’m far too fascinated to leave now.

“Oh, Jean Luc, you never disappoint.”

The man simply sits on a stool behind a tiny glass counter and watches Nadia. “I have a new Chanel. Vintage from 1968.”

“Let me see it.”

He reaches under the counter, pulls the signature black bag out, tugs a handbag free, and sets it on the glass.

“Oh, she’s pretty. And the leather has really stood up well.”

“It was hardly used, in all these years,” Jean Luc replies. “I know you’re fond of Chanel.”

“Who isn’t?” She grins. “I’ll be hitting up Angelina tomorrow.”

“Such a tourist trap now.” He clicks his tongue.

“Yes, but she went there. Every day,” Nadia reminds him. “And I do enjoy that hot chocolate.”

“Who does not enjoy a cup of le chocolat chaud now and again?” he says, and unless I’m seeing things, he actually smiles at her. “Eight thousand.”

Nadia’s brows climb. “That’s a little steep.”

I want to interject. Eight thousand euros for a used handbag?

Jean Luc shakes his head and gives her a morose look as if she’s physically hurting him. “Seven, then.”

“Five,” she counters.

“Nadia, you pain me. You can’t find vintage like this, in this condition. I could sell to many others for more than five.”

“Then sell it to them.” She shrugs a shoulder as if it makes no difference to her, and Jean Luc sighs heavily.

“Six, and no less.”

“I can live with six.” She nods happily. “Done. Now, do you have a black Hermes Kelly?”

Jean Luc’s eyes narrow for a moment as if he’s pondering the question, but something tells me the man knows exactly what he has.

“For you? I will show you this.”

He walks to a cupboard and pulls out another handbag, setting it on the glass next to the Chanel. A black handbag with a top handle and a gold clasp.

“Oh, she’s beautiful. What year?”

“2004,” he says. “Also, never used. Sat on a closet shelf for years.”

He pulls out a pair of gloves before opening the bag and then showing it off to Nadia.

I’m lost. Who is Kelly, and why does she have a handbag named after her? I start to ask when Jean Luc tells her the price.

My eyes widen at the five figures that just came out of his mouth.

But Nadia doesn’t even blink as she looks it over.

“Not even a scratch on the hardware,” she murmurs. Her hands lovingly caress the leather as if she’s touching a lover.

As if she’s touching me.

“Jean Luc, you just sold yourself a Kelly. I’ll take both.”

“I have new jewelry,” he begins, but Nadia shakes her head with a laugh.

“I’m going to stop while I’m ahead. But thank you. And thank you for opening your shop just for me. On a Tuesday morning.”