Page 11 of Whatever You Need

She didn’t owe me an explanation. But I believed what she said. She didn’t strike me as the type to participate in activities like that. Not that there was anything wrong with experimenting or going home with a stranger, but Amelia put herself in danger. I didn’t want to make things more awkward for her, but I felt the need to address that.

“I can tell you’re not that kind of girl, but you really need to be more careful. There are a lot of crazy people out there.”

She swallowed, and I immediately wondered if I should have kept my trap shut. She probably came here to unwind after a long day and here I was giving unsolicited advice. “I know. Trust me. I’m done.”

My jaw clenched just thinking about her and that idiot. She had no idea that when my eyes landed on her handcuffed to that bedpost, my first instinct was to rush over, set the bed on fire, and cover her up. Although not in that exact order. The thought of the two of them together bothered me a lot more than it should have.

She watched the waiter place my plate of nachos down in front of me. “So, Marco, what kind of police work do you do?”

“I’m a homicide detective.”

She leaned back. “Wow. That must be a grueling job. I can’t imagine all the emotions and danger involved. Doing that every day must be exhausting.”

“It does take an emotional toll after a while, but I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”

An unsolved murder was like an open wound to a family. If I could put the pieces together and start them on to the grieving process, then it was worth it. I took pride in what I did and earned a steady paycheck, but I sensed she was more of a white-collar man than blue.

Amelia seemed like a sweet, down-to-earth girl with a great sense of humor, but she was obviously on the wealthy end of the spectrum. I might not buy designer clothes for myself, but that didn’t mean I didn’t know how much they cost. Judging by the silver watch around her wrist with the Tiffany & Co. blue surrounded by a dozen or more diamonds, I would say she was rolling in the dough.

And here I thought I was king shit wearing the latest version of the Apple Watch. “You mentioned that you worked here but never said what you did.”

She reached inside her purse and pulled out a business card. “Here you go.”

I flipped the card, noticing her job title said that she was President of Marketing and Sales Operations.

“President, huh?” I teased. “That’s quite an accomplishment for such a young woman. You’re obviously driven and passionate about what you do.”

“Thank you. My grandfather is part owner of the corporation, so this hotel is very special to me.”

I choked on a tortilla chip and patted my chest with my fist, waiting for the sucker to pass. Once my throat was clear, I took a sip of my water. “Your grandfather owns this hotel chain?” I asked because, What. The. Fuck. I was struggling with how I felt about that because this woman was completely out of my league.

She grabbed a loaded chip off my plate without asking and starting munching away. “He does,” she said, reaching for another chip.

I expected her to elaborate further, but she didn’t. I was left wondering why she seemed to shut down whenever the topic of her employment came up. Clearly, it was time to move the conversation forward. “Does your family live here in Philly?”

“Yes and no. My dad died when I was ten. My mom moved to Palm Beach after I graduated high school and I am an only child. My grandparents still live here, and I consider Philly my home. It’s not a big family, but it’s all I have.”

I took a hefty sip of my drink and watched her polish off a good portion of my appetizer. Shit. I ran a hand through my hair. That sounded depressing. I came from a big Italian family, filled with more aunts, uncles, and cousins than I could count. I couldn’t even pretend to know what that was like.

“Are you close with your family?” she asked, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

I leaned back in my seat and thought about how to answer that. “Somewhat,” I said, not wanting to get into my family drama. Thankfully, she left the topic alone.

For the next hour, we ordered a couple more appetizers and shared some fun and light conversation. I noticed that she was ignoring her drink and mostly sipping from the glass of Diet Coke she ordered. Amelia was petite, but let me tell you, she had an appetite and a love for food that would make any Italian woman proud. My mamma would love her.

“So, what led you to sitting in a bar in the middle of a snowstorm?” Amelia asked, while licking sauce off her thumb. It shouldn’t have turned me on, but it did.

I had a serious fucking problem when it came to this woman.

I cleared my throat and tried to shake off these weird feelings. “I was hoping to catch a buddy of my mine who works nearby, but he had already left for the day. I knew this place was here and figured it would be a good place to unwind after a stressful week.”

She dragged her nail along the rim of her glass. “I understand.”

A heavy silence took over us. Something told me she understood all too well. Maybe we were both dealing with the same shit.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

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