Page 30 of Extradition (Mobsters + Billionaires 1)
There is a sensation—an emotion, I suppose—of which I am wholly unfamiliar. It’s a rough-hewn thing, out of place in my emotional landscape, like a craggy rock in a field of wildflowers.
Without thinking, I pull up my phone, dialing Sherry. Before I can even get a word out, her sass comes through loud and clear. “I see we’re trying to get ourselves killed today.”
“How is it you didn’t know he was related to a mob family? He’s been doing my highlight sheets for months.”
Sherry pauses before answering, her words careful. “Edgerton did the screening. I’m quite certain he was thorough, but nothing in Joe’s background threw up any red flags. And besides, you can’t not hire someone because of who they’re related to.”
“Of course you can.”
“Well, sure, but how much money have you made on his highlight sheets alone?”
I let out a frustrated breath. “Easily seven figures.”
“Interesting. And how can I help you today?”
“He’s in my kitchen, making pasta.”
“I’ll call in the National Guard.” Her bone-dry wit is once again the bane of my existence.
“I’m serious. I blew up his life twice in as many days, but he cooks when he’s anxious. Apparently.”
“What kind of food are we talking about?”
“Pasta Primavera with egg noodles. From scratch.”
“Oh, the suffering you must endure. I have no idea how you manage.”
“I called for your advice, not to be harangued. If I wanted to be bullied, I could simply call my father.”
“Oof. Low blow.”
“Apologies.”
“So let’s dig into this a little more. You’re upset that he’s cooking for you?”
I glance back at the kitchen, then linger on how his perfectly broken-in jeans hug his perfect ass. “Not upset. Not exactly. It just feels…wrong-footed.”
I linger on his ass for a few more moments until I realize Sherry is still talking.
“Has it not occurred to you that he might want to poison you?” I can practically see the grin on her impudent face. “Not that I can blame the man.”
I roll my eyes and play along. “Honestly, Sherry, if this is how I go, it’s how I go.”
“I take it your place smells divine.”
“It smells like Maialino’s in here.”
I smile when she grumbles under her breath.
“Are you trying to make me jealous?”
“No. Maybe.”
“Hmm.” She’s tapping something, like a pen on a desk. “So now you’re in an uncomfortable position where he’s endangered himself and sacrificed his relationship with his family to save you, and all you’ve done is fire him.”
I remind myself that I hired her against my father’s wishes for the express purpose of this kind of takedown. I can’t believe I ever once thought that was a clever idea.
Sighing, I respond, “I’m guessing there isn’t a Hallmark card that apologizes for that kind of thing, is there? One I could stuff full of cash and shove in his direction?”
