Ruthless (The Calvettis of New York 2)

***

By the time he unlocks the door to his apartment, his phone has started ringing again. There were two incoming calls when we were in the elevator, but he silenced both of those immediately.

“Should you get that?” I ask, crossing the threshold into the foyer.

“Hell no.” He laughs, shutting the door behind me. “It’s my mother. I spent the afternoon with her. That’s my limit for today.”

Relief washes over me. He was with his mom.

I have no claim to him, but still, I’m glad that he wasn’t rolling around in a hotel bed with a woman. The mental image of that plagued me all afternoon.

“Do you want a drink?”

As tempted as I am, I shake my head. “I should go home.”

Scratching his chin, he looks around the penthouse. “I’m hungry. Are you?”

I’m famished. I ate a granola bar for lunch. I dug it out of the bottom drawer of my desk. The expiry date was four months ago, but once I took the first bite and lived, I gobbled it up.

“Yes,” I admit on a sigh. “I was going to heat up leftovers at home.”

“Sounds like you have a wild night ahead of you.”

I can tell that he’s sobering up. His voice has leveled, and he’s standing in place, not leaning to the left anymore. Not to mention, that he was quick to dish out that sarcastic remark about my evening plans.

Shedding his suit jacket, he looks over his shoulder at me. “I’ll order some food. What do you want?”

I don’t want food. I want to kiss him. I want to touch him. I have a wild desire to unbutton his shirt and slide it from his shoulders so I can run my hands over his chest and abs.

Rolling the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, he studies me. “You’re giving this a lot of thought. What will it be? Pizza? Greek? Do you want me to call Atlas 22? I can get them to send over a sampling of everything since you didn’t get to enjoy the food the night you crashed my date.”

The reminder stings, but I don’t let it show. “Leave dinner to me. I know just what to get.”

Chapter 34

Bella

The door to his penthouse is ajar when I get back with our dinner. I called Calvetti’s when Barrett excused himself to take a shower. I spoke with Marti. She was ready to get in a taxi and bring the food down here, but I convinced her to send it with one of the kitchen staff.

I love my grandma, but if she set foot in this building with her food in her hands, she’d want to join Barrett and me at his dining room table. I wouldn’t escape the night without my boss learning a few of the most embarrassing stories from when I was a kid.

“Is dinner here yet?” Barrett rounds the corner from the hallway that leads to his bedroom.

Holy hell.

Dressed in charcoal gray pants and a lightweight black sweater, he could double as a male model. His broad chest leads down to a trim waist.

I tear my eyes away from him to hold up the two red insulated bags that contain the food that my grandma sent.

I asked for the baked ravioli, but she told me she was sending the lobster linguine because she’d just finished making it. When I met Alfie, one of the kitchen staff, in the lobby just now, he told me that she’d packed an extra special treat just for me.

I kissed him on his cheek and tried to slip a twenty-dollar bill into his palm. He pushed it back at me, warning me that he’d get fired if Marti ever found out that he took money from one of her grandchildren.

“What did you settle on?” Barrett moves next to me as I place the bags on his large dining room table.

It’s made of steel with black accents around the edges. The six black leather chairs that surround it are high-backed. It fits in with the décor of the space to a tee.

Smiling proudly, I zip open the larger of the two bags. “My grandma made dinner for us.”