Page 6 of His to Break

My heart stutters as Leo Volante saunters into the room, dressed to perfection in a black suit that screams ‘assassin.’

“Hi,” I breathe out.

He barely spares me a glance before turning on his heel and walking from the room. He leaves the door open. Am I supposed to follow? I guess so.

Running to catch up with his long strides, I enter the kitchen behind him. It’s very modern, with sleek black appliances and dark gray cabinets. There’s no table in here, but there are places set at one end of a long, granite-topped island.

“Sit.”

Leo points to a stool on the long side of the island. I clamber onto it. He waits for me to get comfortable before he sits. I guess he has some manners, then.

“What’s happening?” I ask.

“What does it look like, principessa?” He unfurls a napkin and snaps it in the air before laying it on his lap. “Dinner.”

Though I’ve never been one to refuse a meal, I’m curious about his motivations.

“Why?”

“Why do people usually eat dinner?”

Is he being deliberately obtuse? “Uh, because they’re hungry.”

“Clever girl.”

“Asshole.”

He lifts an eyebrow, the subtle movement widening his gorgeous brown eyes.

“Tut, tut, Miss Bianchi. Is that any way to address your fiancé?”

Well, I guess that answers that question. I expect my heart to sink like a stone when I hear that Leo Volante is the one I’ll be marrying, but it doesn’t. In fact, a prickle of excitement runs down my spine.

“It is if he’s being condescending.”

He doesn’t respond to that. He merely turns down the corners of his lips as if considering what I’ve said as John materializes out of nowhere, carrying a bottle.

“Wine, Miss Bianchi?” he offers.

“Please.”

He pours a glass for me and then one for Leo. Then he brings two plates from the other side of the kitchen. Steak, dauphinoise potatoes, and green beans. I might have known Leo would be a meat and potatoes kind of guy, though I bet he also loves pasta. I’ve never met a Mafioso who doesn’t.

“I assume this means you’ve confirmed my identity.”

Leo nods. “Antonio and I spoke with your brother. He seemed surprised you came to us.”

“Was he angry? Disappointed? Worried about me?”

“It wasn’t a therapy session. We didn’t discuss feelings.”

With a sigh, I pick up my knife and fork, ready to dive into this amazing looking meal. John walks off and returns a few seconds later to hand Leo a large brown envelope, which he examines briefly and then places on the countertop between us.

“What’s that?” I ask as I slice through my filet.

“Papers for you to sign. We’ll get to that later.” Leo’s deep, sexy voice makes the hairs on the back of my arms stand up. “Now, eat.”

I do as I’m told and not just because his tone makes me want to obey. The food smells so good I can’t wait to taste it. Though it’s cooked rarer than I’d want it, the steak is delicious, seasoned to perfection. Everything I’ve eaten since I came to the apartment has been on a par with the best fine dining I’ve ever experienced. Though the hospitality has been lacking in terms of entertainment, the food gets a definite five-star rating.

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