36. Chapter 36

36

" T his is the best lo mein ever."

Soren watched Ilaria pick up a long noodle, hold it over her open mouth, and swirl it onto her tongue.

His cock twitched. He would never get tired of looking at her. Admiring her every gesture. Watching every thought flit across her beautiful face.

"It's okay," he shrugged.

Ilaria gasped and looked at him, wide eyed. "You take that back," she breathed.

He leaned in and gave her a hard kiss, tongue sweeping in. " That's the best lo mein ever."

"Okay, maybe you're right," she grudgingly agreed.

After they got back to Ilaria's condo, the takeout was left on the counter while they tumbled back into bed. Compared to the frenzied sex they had before, this time it was unhurried. Soren took his time lavishing attention on all the parts of Ilaria's body that fascinated him, memorizing every sensitive spot and her reaction.

When it was her turn to explore his body, however, he could only withstand a few minutes of her exploration—he would have climaxed way too fast—before he flipped her onto her back. Back in control, he set a slow pace, easing in and out of her, ascending to the near brink, until both of them plunged over the edge.

Both of them starving afterward, they tore into the Chinese food. Soren couldn't remember a time when he had wanted to relax and spend time with a woman after they had sex. He had always either fallen asleep or felt an urge to leave, never interested in making conversation.

With Ilaria, he was just as stimulated talking to her as he was pleasuring her body. Her wit and unpretentiousness delighted him. He couldn't get enough of her.

He fixed his eyes appreciatively on her over the boxes of food. She was wearing a thin, white cotton tank top, sans bra, and the ring of color surrounding her nipple kept pulling his gaze.

A small warning rang at the back of his mind, telling him not to get attached, but he smothered it.

Soren finished chewing a bite of sauteed string beans. "Have you always been personally close with the other families?"

"Yeah, many of them," Ilaria confirmed. "My dad always insisted that there was plenty of business for all of us, and that it would be more of a benefit to cooperate than to undermine, always looking over our shoulders for someone's knife. I think they all respected my dad for trying to bridge that gap and maintaining peace."

She forked a prawn into her mouth and chewed before continuing. "So in a way, I was glad to hear Alfred's opinion that the others likely weren't responsible for killing my parents. That they really had appreciated my dad for his efforts." She paused, throat working. "But if he's right, that it might not even be Vincent, then it's someone else inside the family who killed them. Someone my dad trusted." Her anger couldn't hide the hurt and betrayal in her eyes.

A rush of protectiveness washed over Soren. He wanted to lay his hands on everyone who had ever hurt her. He wanted to shield her so she would never feel betrayed by those she trusted again.

"We'll find them, love." A statement of indisputable fact.

And the look Ilaria gave him—open, unguarded, as if she was laying her complete trust at his feet—made him feel invincible. He ran a finger down her cheek as his chest squeezed.

"I was really impressed with the way you handled the Riccis today," he said. Ilaria had the innate skill to read people—which was a necessity in this business—but she gained cooperation with loyalty and understanding, and only used intimidation when she absolutely had to. "You…taught me a few things. It's making me rethink my relationships with the other families back home."

Ilaria gave an exaggerated gasp and clasped her hands to her chest. " I taught Soren MacGregor something? Who woulda thunk?"

"Smartass." Soren grinned and tweaked her nose. "But I'm serious. You're savvy and smart. You've used what your father taught you and you're making it work for you. You'll get on just fine."

She regarded him for a minute. "I get the feeling you don't issue compliments very often, so I'll take that as high praise."

"You should."

"A compliment from you is sort of like the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow," she observed. "Is it a myth? How does one get it? Just when you think you're close, it slips away."

Soren scoffed and laughed at the same time. "I don't dole out compliments like they're free. One has to earn it."

"Yeah, no kidding." Ilaria softened her words with a grin as she nibbled on another prawn. "One must prove one's worthiness to get the time of day from Soren MacGregor."

"Speaking of worthiness, I don't like Matt Ricci," he declared as he forked another bite of noodles and chewed. "He seems shifty to me."

She looked at him sideways, a smile playing on her lips. "Shifty? In what way?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "He wouldn't drop the marriage thing, like he was hell bent on talking you into it. I mean, who does that?"

"Hmm, a man who insists on having his own way." She shook her head in mock outrage. "What gall. How dare he?"

He narrowed his eyes. "You know what I mean. He's as bad as that Nick Bianchi asshole."

Ilaria bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Yeah, no kidding. I'm surrounded by men who refuse to take no for an answer."

Soren lifted his brows at her, then snaked out a hand to grab her around the waist. She squealed with laughter and tried to pull away.

"I don't take no for an answer only when I know I'm right," he growled, tickling her.

"And when does any man ever think he's wrong?" she guffawed. She slipped from his grasp and ran into the living room, diving onto the sofa. He ran after her and tackled her, covering her with his body.

His laughter slowed as he looked down at her, leaving a warmth and contentment that took his breath away. "You are so beautiful." He leaned down and kissed her, long and slow. Then he got up. "But I'm not ready to go again just yet. Still recharging."

"Tease," she grumbled.

He pulled her up and gave her one more kiss on the neck. "I'll make it up to you later."

"Then you can help me clean up," Ilaria declared. She grabbed the empty food cartons and took them into the kitchen to toss in the garbage.

Soren grabbed a spray cleaner and paper towels and wiped the table and counters while she loaded the dishes into the dishwasher.

After the table and counters were gleaming, he surveyed their work. He never thought he would enjoy domestic work so much.

"I want something sweet," she announced. "Just a little something."

Soren surveyed her refrigerator and freezer. "I have an idea."

He took out a handful of strawberries, then washed and dried them. He threw them into a bowl, then added a spoonful of sugar. With a fork, he smashed the strawberries with the sugar, creating a chunky syrup.

From the freezer, he took out the vanilla ice cream. He scooped one scoop into a bowl, topped it with the strawberry syrup, and passed it over to Ilaria.

Ilaria looked at her bowl and back at Soren, impressed. "You keep surprising me. How'd you learn to make this?"

"Again, Molly." Soren said as he made himself a bowl. "I had a lot of time after we moved in with Galen and spent a lot of time with Molly and Rae." They had given him the motherly influence he didn't know he needed.

Soren made his way to a bar stool with his ice cream. "So let's say everything works out. We handle Vincent and he's gone. You find the killer. And you're kicking ass at work. Then what?"

She huffed a laugh. "You mean that's not enough?"

"Humor me." He spooned a bite. "Vincent's only a recent problem, so let's take him out of the picture for now. What did you, as your adult self, envision for yourself? What are your long term dreams?"

Ilaria took her time getting a sip of water and wiping her mouth. The guardedness in her eyes came back, and she sighed. "I don't know. They all seem silly now."

Soren tilted her chin up with a finger. "I won't think they're silly."

She made a face. "You don't even know what they are."

"But I know you."

She studied him for a few beats. "Well, before all this shit hit the fan, I was expecting to eventually get married, have kids. I was hoping to find a husband who was my partner, who could run the business with me. Not—" she put up a finger, "—someone from another family who would just expect to take over and I'd end up being a housewife, but someone who was my equal, even if he was an outsider. I didn't want to hand my father's business over to my husband; I wanted to run it together."

She tapped her spoon restlessly on her bowl. "I thought I'd have time to meet someone, get him used to the idea of working for a crime family, ease him in slowly. But now, I don't have time for that." She pinched her lips together in frustration.

"And you don't want a marriage of convenience," Soren said slowly.

The thought of Ilaria falling in love and marrying someone else—someone who laughed with her, someone who worshiped her body, someone whom she trusted—was like a punch in the gut. The food suddenly sat like a rock in his stomach.

Her face was tight as she stared down at the table. She shook her head. "I'm not remotely interested in anyone my age who is part of the other families. Besides, I don't want to give up control." She shrugged. "So maybe my life is supposed to go down a different path now. I mean, I should feel grateful, shouldn't I? My dad built a legacy, I feel more confident now that I can continue it, I have financial security and great friends. I should be happy with all of that."

Her voice caught, and she turned in her chair away from him, but not before Soren noticed her eyes had filled with tears.

"Hey." He reached around her shoulders and pulled her toward him. "You should want whatever you want, okay? And you should expect to get it, not settle for anything less."

As Soren held her, a desire rocked through him so strong that he almost staggered. He wanted it to be him. He wanted to be that person for her, everything she ever wanted and more.

But I can't. I'll be in Scotland.

Ilaria let out a resigned laugh. "Yeah, yeah, just expect it and I'll get absolutely everything I want, right? Sounds nice. But maybe the sooner I accept reality, the easier it will be to move forward."

He had no words. He wanted to tell her to fuck reality, dream big, and she would get it all. But the truth was, he didn't really believe that himself. He didn't really believe he could have everything he wanted: his life in Scotland, his family, and the girl. He had a lot of nerve to think he could have all of that. Not just could have, but deserved to have.

"You know what?" Ilaria wiped her eyes. "I don't want to get into the ‘woe is me' routine right now. It was a good day, so let's just focus on that."

Soren scanned her face as she sat up straight, pasted on a bright smile, and took the last bite of her ice cream. He nodded, smiling back, but couldn't help thinking that this fantasy bubble they'd been living recently was about to pop.

"You haven't told me what you want, all your big dreams," Ilaria said. She looped her fingers through his.

"It's not very different from yours, actually," he replied. "I want to continue my uncle's and grandfather's legacies. Make the business a success, keep growing it. I want to make sure my siblings are always taken care of."

"But what about yourself?" Ilaria asked. "You're always doing something for others. Don't you want love? To get married and have kids? What do you want?"

I want you.

"I'm happy when people I love are happy," he finally answered.

Ilaria raised her brows. "That's such a martyr-ish, self-sacrificing thing to say."

Soren scoffed. "It's not as if my choices are completely selfless. Every choice I've ever made was, in the end, for myself, because what I want is for my family to be taken care of. To be comfortable. To no longer struggle."

"And you've done an admirable job of that." she insisted.

"I just have to keep it up," he said. "Keep going."

"How much fortune do you have to amass before you finally feel comfortable?" Ilaria asked softly.

Soren couldn't answer that. He didn't think there was really a number after which he could allow himself to relax.

"I don't know, but I'll know it when I get there. In the meantime, if I have to give up on some of my other dreams, then so be it."

"Oh, Soren." She shifted in her chair to fully face him. "What if, in your old age, you realize that everyone else got their happy endings, and you didn't get yours because you sacrificed for everyone else?"

"I'll accept whatever choices I make."

Even as those words came out of his mouth, they rang hollow. He had to limit his choices. He couldn't allow himself to seriously consider the more unrealistic dreams, because that would give him hope , and there was nothing more painful than unfulfilled hope.

"Remember, we're not doing the ‘woe is me' thing tonight," Soren reminded her as he cleared their bowls to the dishwasher. "I have something much more fun in mind, if you're up for it."

A sly smile spread across Ilaria's face. "No need to twist my arm."

He led them into the bathroom and turned on the hot water until the bathroom was steaming. He slowly removed Ilaria's clothes—trailing kisses and licks on skin that was revealed—guided her into the shower, and cleaned them both thoroughly, concentrating on the most sensitive areas. He pushed his long-term dreams to the back corner of his mind and instead relished the dream that was right in front of him.

And as they wrapped their arms around each other and fell asleep, he decided he was already a lucky bastard, that lying here with Ilaria was already his wildest dreams made manifest, and that he was not going to tempt fate by asking for even more.