She watched him keep flipping the pages right after he stared at the picture for an eternity. She knew he was studying it, looking at every inch of the photo before he would move on. She was just thankful that some injuries over the years were hidden under her clothes.
Elle was glad to see Nero finally close the book in his hands. He then stared at the closed book for a while before he finally lifted his head to look at her.
This time, when Nero looked at her, Elle knew it was different. It was almost as if he was looking at her in a whole new light. She stared back into his green eyes, waiting for what he was going to do next.
“Is there even a fucking point in asking you?” She knew Nero was trying to stay calm.
Elle said nothing; instead, she slowly took the book out of his hands and got up to return it to the bookshelf where it belonged. After she had, she took her place again on her bed. She watched the TV screen, letting the show unfold.
After Nero hadn’t moved for a while, she knew he was trying to calm himself down, being in her parents’ house. However, there was nothing Elle could tell him to make him feel better; not the truth, anyway.
Elle felt Nero’s hand reach out for her arm and turned to look at him. He started pulling her toward him, so she scooted over. She could at least give him that. He wrapped his arm around her and Elle laid her head on him.
“You do know I’m going to find out,” Nero said with confidence, certain it was a sure thing.
“I know you will.” Elle did know, too. When a guy like Nero wanted something, he wasn’t going to stop until he had it.
They watched shows until it was time for Elle to get up and get ready for work. She had felt Nero slowly start to calm down and ease into the bed and her as the time passed. Elle would laugh at the funny parts and she saw Nero even smile at one. A little smile counts.
“I gotta go get ready.” Elle was waiting for Nero to move his arm to let her go. He didn’t of course, making Elle laugh. “Nero, I need to get dressed.”
After she said that, he quickly moved his arm. Elle looked at him weird. Okay, now you move your arm?
Elle got up out of bed, grabbed her uniform off the door then went out to the bathroom to get changed, dressing quickly and throwing her hair up in a messy bun.
She returned to her room and saw Nero sitting at the end of her bed. When she came in, she stopped at the look on his face. His eyes went over every inch of her body before a smile touched his lips. His hand came up and waved her to come closer.
Elle didn’t want to walk toward him, yet her feet started walking anyway. She didn’t know how Nero did that to her. She stopped in front of him.
“You look pretty hot in that uniform.” Nero’s face looked pleased.
Elle chuckled and reached for Nero’s tie, straightening it. “Not as hot as you do in this tie.”
“Oh, so you’re actually attracted to me? I didn’t know.”
“Well, duh. How could I not be?” Nero was every girl’s dream.
“Probably because you wouldn’t let me have my way with you in the car, and on top of that, you introduced me to your parents as your friend.” Nero made sure he sounded extra sarcastic with the word ‘friend’.
Elle tried hard not to laugh, miserably failing. After the giggle fit, Nero looked as if his ego needed some stroking.
“Nero, do you know how handsome you are?”
“Nope, but you can tell me.”
Elle knew Nero was perfectly aware of exactly how handsome he was, but regardless, she would tell him. “You are the handsomest guy I have ever seen, and I am very attracted to you. But I have a feeling you know that.”
Nero grabbed her around her waist. “So, I’m just a friend?”
Elle looked into his eyes. “I don’t know, are you?”
“No, baby, I’m not.”
Chapter Twenty—Three
An Itch That Needs to be Scratched
Leaning back in his oversized chair, he told the person waiting behind the door, “Come in.”
He watched as the doorknob turned and his oldest son walked in. Boss Caruso took in his son’s appearance. For fuck’s sake.
“Please tell me why you think it’s okay to wear that?”
In their line of business, your wardrobe was limited. Everything was Italian-made and business attire. You wear an expensive suit, shoes, and a watch. End of fucking story. They were judged and respected by what they wore, and that was how they kept control of the city. However, his son had his own attire of dark jeans and a black t-shirt.
“Nice to see you, too, boss,” he said as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.
“You know I don’t like that fucking smell in here.”