Chapter 62 RóISE

I wake up needing to pee and hungry.

After Round 4, or was it Round 5? Does mutual masturbation count as a round? Anyway, at some point we stopped sexing and fell asleep.

From the sound of his breathing and the leashed power tension in his body, I know Miceli is already awake. The fact he's sitting up against the headboard with my body tucked into his side is a dead giveaway too.

Yawning, I lift my head.

He's on his tablet, a pair of glasses perched on his nose.

"You wear glasses?" I scramble to my knees to get a better look.

Bare chest. Treasure trail disappearing under the blankets resting across his hips. The Family Always snarling wolf tattoo on the heavily muscled arm.

Mmm. So sexy.

"When my eyes are tired." He taps on the screen and then swipes up. "They're blue light blockers with a small magnification."

"I like them."

His gaze lifts from the tablet to meet mine. "Yeah?"

Scuttling backward, I shake my head. "Get that look off your face. I need to pee. And I'm hungry."

"If you'd eaten your dinner… "

"I wasn't hungry then." Thoughts of Miceli's plans for later had strangled my appetite.

"Not for food anyway." His voice is heavy with innuendo .

Which I force myself to ignore, scooting off the mattress to stand beside it. "I need a shower before we do anything else in that bed."

Sex is way messier than I expected. And I kind of love it.

But right now, I smell a little too earthy. So, shower. I'd kill for a bath though.

Not literally. Maybe.

He points his thumb toward a set of double doors. "Bathroom. The kitchen is through the door in the hall. It's fully stocked."

"Closet?" I ask.

I plan to steal one of his shirts for after my shower. I love the scene in romance novels when the FMC goes around naked except for her lover's shirt.

We aren't romance .

Maybe to him we're not, but I can live my side of this relationship any way I want. And right now, I want one of his shirts.

He waves toward a third set of double doors on the other side of the room. The first one, we came through when we got here.

I pad over unembarrassed by my jiggling flesh, mostly because he watches me like a hungry wolf.

When I open the door to the closet, a light comes on.

"I have to say I enjoy this automatic light thing you've got going on. I'm going to talk to Uncle Brogan about installing some in the mansi…" I lose my words as my brain processes what my eyes are seeing.

First, this room is off the charts. It's almost as big as my bedroom. (And hello, mansion…my bedroom is not small.)

One side is suit jackets, slacks dress shirts, you know…guy clothes. Whatever.

But what has my attention riveted and words stuck in my throat like I just swallowed cement is the other side.

It is filled with my clothes. Not clothes for a woman in my size. And not a few items from my closet. But if my entire freaking closet isn't hanging up here, I don't know my own wardrobe.

I rush to the island in the center and yank open one of the drawers on "my" side of the closet.

You guessed it, my underwear. I open another one. Those are my socks. open another one. Those are my T-shirts. Crap! All of my clothes are in here.

"Miceli!" There may be a slightly hysterical note in my voice.

I blame the clothes snatcher. Have I been adult-napped? Lured in with fantastic, earthy sex instead of sweet candy?

Spinning around, I'm ready to charge back through the door when I'm stopped short by the sight of him lounging in the doorway .

His shoulder leaning against the jamb, His expression is calm. Maybe even a little smug. Definitely not underboss stoic.

I wave my arms wildly around. "What are all of my clothes doing here?"

"Not how did they get here?" He sounds almost teasing.

But underbosses don't tease. So, what is that weird look on his face?

"No. The how is pretty easy to figure out. You have your minions and a devil's bargain with my uncle. The why is what I am trying to understand. I don't live here."

"You do now."

"No. I don't. I would have remembered agreeing to moving in with you. And there was never a discussion about that." I would remember.

No matter how intensely I studied for my final exams.

"Sev discussed it with your uncle."

My fiancé has to know those words are like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

Make that an already enraged bull.

My temper erupts like a cracked gas line jarred one too many times.

And I scream.

Not recognizable words. Just a sound. A long, furious shriek that hurts my throat. And I don't care.

He winces like maybe I hurt his ears.

Good.

He's not leaning against the jamb like he doesn't have another care in the world now.

Double good.

In fact, he looks worried.

Triple good.

Miceli puts his hand up. "Calm down mi dolce fiore . You knew you were going to move in with me eventually."

"Are you kidding me with this?! You already moved up the wedding date. At least then you had the intelligence to talk to me about it, even if you didn't listen the first time I said no."

"I won't make that mistake again. "

What mistake is he talking about?

Talking to me about what he's planning to do or not ignoring me when I say no?

I don't bother to ask. I'm so freaking angry right now, I can barely get words past the tightness in my throat "I don't want to move in here."

"You already have."

"No. "

He takes a step toward me, and I take a step back. He puts both hands up in a stopping gesture or maybe a look I'm not dangerous gesture, but we both know that's a lie.

"It is too high risk for you to remain at the mansion. Both for you and your cousins."

I don't ask why my cousins because I understand collateral damage better than anybody.

"It's a volatile environment in la famiglia right now. Some high ranking men in the Cosa Nostra don't want Sev to be the next godfather. I'm his right hand and you're leverage against me in the wrong hands."

"Which you could have tried explaining before you moved all my clothes in here." I can only be leverage if I matter to him, right?

But is it because of the blood alliance and my healthy uterus, or because I matter? And how are these needy thoughts making it through the haze of rage in my brain?

I know they say love is the strongest emotion, but stronger than my fury?

"Where's Pusheen?" I ask angrily while he tries to come up with a reason for acting like an asshole.

Yes, I said it. Jerk isn't strong enough for my feelings about his actions.

"I didn't see her stuff in the bedroom."

"She has her own room, which she seems to like a lot more than you like yours," he tries to joke.

"Don't." I shake my head. "This is not funny, Miceli. Why didn't you talk to me?"

"Your uncle told Sev about the Jed situation while I was in Boston. My brother and I were already worried about your safety. He ordered me to bring you under our protection."

"What part of protection is taking me out to a very public restaurant?" I demand, not buying his explanation for a minute.

"We had a security force of twelve of my best men around us, including two snipers, watching rooftops and windows."

I can't process that. Or this…this closet filled with my clothes. My cat having her own room. None of it.

"I want Pusheen in my room."

"Our room."

My only answer is a glare.

"I'll move her stuff while you're in the shower, but she might appreciate having her own space. "

"We'll get another cat bed so she can decide," I push out between clenched teeth.

"Good idea."

Ignoring his approval, which I do not need, I grab one of his shirts. It's a silk tuxedo shirt and probably cost as much as the dress he tore getting off me earlier.

"I'm taking a shower. Stay out of the bathroom."

He steps out of my way and I march past him, careful so our bodies don't touch. He raises his arm, like he's going to stop me.

"Don't touch me."

"Fuck, Róise, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Telling me my uncle knew before I did was deliberate."

"No! It was…" He stares at me like his words are as trapped as mine were a minute ago. "A mistake."

The two words sound like they came through ground glass to get past his vocal cords.

"What was? Telling my uncle first or telling me he knew first?" This time I want clarification.

"Both. I meant to talk to you before we fucked, but I couldn't tell you at dinner. I couldn't explain the reasons where I could be overheard."

"You could have talked to me on the drive back." Unless he didn't trust his own driver and bodyguard to hear the discussion.

"No, I couldn't." The passion that's always an undercurrent between us flares in his dark gaze. "I told you, it took every ounce of my self-control not to fuck you in the SUV."

"I'm pretty sure the argument we would have had would have cooled your jets."

"And I'm positive it would have only made me want you more." His erection growing between us is undeniable proof of his words.

"Sheesh, Miceli! Sex doesn't solve everything. I'm not sure it solves anything."

He gets the weirdest expression on his face when I say that.

"I should have controlled my need for you long enough to tell you what was going on. I'm sorry I didn't."

"You're sorry?" That's not a word I've ever heard from the men in my family.

Not my grandfather for sure, but not my uncle either and not even my dad.

"Yes. I used to think the words were useless, but you deserve to hear them. I'm not sorry I moved you in. It had to be done."

That's the Miceli I know…and yes, love, darn it!

"I am very sorry you were hurt by the way I did it though."

Heaven help me for being a fool, but I believe him.