She types in Mia’s name and clicks on her computer for a few minutes. “Okay, your total is $32,784.59.”
I look at the check. Why hadn’t I considered it might be more than thirty grand? “This is thirty thousand. I’ll put the rest on my credit card.”
“No.” Gio shoves his hand inside his jacket pocket and produces a huge wad of cash. He counts out twenty-eight hundred-dollar bills. “This will cover it.”
I refuse to show my gratitude for it, or let on how much seeing a handsome man throw down that amount of cash without blinking an eye affects me. I just take the money and slide it over, like dealing with such a sum is something I do every day.
“We don’t usually accept a large amount of cash. I’ll have to call my supervisor to make sure we can take this.”
“You do that,” Gio says. On another man it might sound rude or condescending, but this is Gio, so the clerk thinks he’s flirting. She blushes and smiles at him with the phone to her ear. A few minutes later, she hangs up. “We can take it.” She counts it all and calls for a security guy to deposit it. “You’re all set, then. I’ll let the doctor know you’re paid up and Mia’s surgery can go on as scheduled tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” I say tightly and turn away before I go off on her. It’s not her fault this country has a broken healthcare system.
We walk back to the elevator without saying a word. Only when we’re in it do I turn and look Gio full in the face. “You’ll add the extra to my tab, I presume?”
He purses his lips, like he finds me amusing, but doesn’t speak for a moment. “It’s on me, doll.”
That shouldn’t get me wet. We’re not on a date. He didn’t just pay for dinner. In fact, I know from my grandfather’s dealings with Arturo Tacone that nothing comes free with these guys. But there’s some stupid biology involved. Sexy alpha male as wealthy, powerful provider. Hormones are flooding my system. My internal biology is screaming yes! Pick this one!
Silly, silly ovaries. Stop dropping eggs. We’re not hooking up with this guy. Definitely not having his babies.
Still, I find myself locked in his gaze, mirroring that amused, secret smile he wears.
The elevator opens and I snap back to reality. “I can find my own way home. Thank you, Gio.”
“Nah. I’m driving you home, angel. No arguments.”
No arguments. He’s bossy as hell. Which also shouldn’t be a turn-on.
“I live with my grandparents,” I blurt, in case he’s thinking I’m going to have sex with him when we get home.
Amusement flickers over his face. He opens my door for me.
“I don’t want them to know about this,” I tell him.
He goes still. “All right,” he says slowly.
I climb into the seat to keep from saying more, not wanting to offend him. And I know by now that he does ruffle, despite the casual debonair attitude he wears so well.
He walks around and gets in the driver side. “You didn’t sign over the cafe. You’re just cooking food.”
“I know, but they wouldn’t like it,” I admit.
“They have a problem with me?” he demands.
Dammit. He took offense. I can’t help but admire his directness, though. He’s a man accustomed to getting to the bottom of things. Apparently not just with his fists.
“Not with you, specifically,” I hedge. Which is true. “But I didn’t tell them I was going to you for the money. They’d be worried about accruing debt to the Tacones again.”
“It’s not the Tacones, it’s me,” Gio says, like that clears everything up. “The Family doesn’t own the marker. I won’t put it in our books, okay? It’s just between you and me.”
I’m wet again. I don’t know why his willingness to extend kindness to me has such an effect, but it does.
“So, you won’t tell my grandparents?”
“Nah.”
“Promise?”
“Lo prometto.” He takes a hand off the wheel and holds it up like he’s swearing to a judge. His sexy black SUV darts through traffic, his driving prowess no less impressive than everything else he does.
I sit back in the comfortable leather seat and allow myself to believe everything’s going to be all right.
To believe I can trust Gio Tacone and that I didn’t just sign my soul over to the devil.
Chapter 3
Gio
“You look different,” my older brother Paolo says to me. We’re at my ma’s house for Sunday dinner. Our oldest brother Junior and his new wife Desiree are in the kitchen making dinner because Ma’s getting too old to cook for all of us. Plus, she’s holding Junior and Desiree’s baby, Santo Tacone the III, making a crazy fuss over him.
There’s still a touch of wonder in the baby thing for all of us. Junior lost his toddler in a drowning accident ten years ago and shut down emotionally. Until this year, we hadn’t had another child in the family. Now we have five, if you count my sister’s two Russian stepchildren and Desiree’s son Jasper.