Carla reached out to grasp hold of the bedside table to stop herself from swaying. “How did you know I feel nauseous?”
He shrugged those broad shoulders. “Because the last person I saw looking as pale as you’ve suddenly become was lying in an open casket at their wake.”
“How descriptive,” she returned with saccharine sweetness. “I bet you have to fight the women off with a stick with slick compliments like that at your fingertips.”
Leon couldn’t stop himself from laughing out loud.
He realized this woman made him happy.
Happy and joyous.
They were both concepts Leon hadn’t known for such a long time, if he ever had, that it had taken him until now to realize what was so different about Carla and the effect she had on him.
Obviously, she was beautiful, but she also made him laugh, at himself as much as anything else. He felt lighter in her company. Became Leon, rather than capo die capi. A title Carla had made it obvious she considered to be more of a detriment than something in his favor, as so many other people did.
He loved his daughter, even if Natalia was a spoiled brat.
He was proud to have taken the Famiglia into a less violent regime this past ten years.
He valued the men who followed him as capo and the ones who were his and Natalia’s personal bodyguards.
He appreciated his wealth and privileged lifestyle.
But none of those things made him happy inside in the way that Carla now did simply by being in the same room with him.
Most people tended to hold him somewhat in awe. Because of who he was and the power he wielded, over their future or their workplace.
Carla didn’t give a damn about who he was or that power he could wield with a snap of his fingers. She was irreverent, disrespectful, and told him exactly what she thought of him or anyone else who annoyed her.
Because a year ago, Calabro had betrayed her so badly she simply didn’t care what any man thought of her anymore?
Possibly, although Leon had a feeling Carla had always been outspoken.
And desirable.
So fucking desirable—and cute in that unicorn nightshirt—that Leon was in danger of starting to drool if he didn’t get out of this bedroom for a few minutes, at least.
“I’m going to make you some tea,” he announced firmly before striding out of the room.
Carla dropped down heavily on the side of the bed once she was sure she was alone. She had absolutely no idea how Leon came to still be in her apartment when she had told him to leave, repeatedly, let alone now be in her kitchen making her a cup of tea.
The Italian Mafia capo dei capi was in her kitchen making her a cup of tea.
And that was just—to use Leon’s favorite word when he was annoyed or upset—un-fucking-believable.
Chapter Ten
“I made you something to eat to go with the tea,” Leon explained when Carla frowned at the plate of scrambled eggs and toast waiting for her on the breakfast bar, along with that promised cup of tea. “I know you slept through lunch, but did you eat breakfast?”
Carla knew she could continue to try to insist Leon leave and ensure he understood she never wanted to see him again, but unless he wanted to do those things, they weren’t going to happen.
Instead, she would have to wait until he’d left her apartment and then lock the door behind him before putting the dead bolt in place. Not that she thought that would keep him out if he should decide he wanted back in, but it was the principle of the thing.
Yes, she could do all those things. The question was, did she really want to?
Leon looked younger with his hair tousled and his appearance disheveled, with his shirt and trousers creased from when he had lain on the bed beside her for several hours. The unfastened buttons at the neck of the shirt gave her a glimpse of the gray hair on his chest.
And this gorgeous man has just made me scrambled eggs, toast, and tea.
Something more than her ex-fiancé, or any other man, had ever done for her. Either she had always had lousy taste in men or men nowadays just didn’t think they had to make the effort to impress a woman. Being an independent woman was a must as far as Carla was concerned, but a little thought and some TLC from a man in no way detracted from her independence or his manhood.
Incredible that show of care should come from the ruthless head of the Italian Mafia.
Which, at the very least, called for a certain amount of honesty on her part. “Only you,” she murmured softly, and had the pleasure of seeing his eyes widen and a surprising redness creep into his cheeks. “You tasted delicious, by the way,” she added pertly as she slid onto the stool in front of the breakfast bar where her food and cup of tea were waiting for her. “Maybe not as delicious as this tea,” she added after taking a sip. “But still delicious.”
A tense silence followed her teasing, and Carla wondered if she might have gone too far.
Until Leon started to laugh. He continued to do so as she drank the rest of her tea with a deliberate look of innocence on her face.
“Did you make any of this for yourself?” She indicated the eggs and toast when she saw Leon had only poured a cup of tea for himself.
“I didn’t like to presume…”
Now it was Carla’s turn to chuckle as she recalled the way Leon had ordered her to dance with him at the wedding rather than asked, and continued to order her about since as he saw fit. “The Leon I know is always presuming.”
“Not this time,” he answered seriously. “I made some accusations earlier I can never take back. All I can hope for is that you will one day be able to forgive me.”
Carla had so many questions resulting from that statement that she didn’t know where to start.
The main one being, did that “one day” imply he intended seeing her again after today? It had certainly sounded like it.
“You can share my eggs and toast, and if we’re still hungry afterward, then we will make some more.” She stood to get another plate before putting half the eggs and one of the slices of buttered toast onto it. “Sit.” She indicated to the stool next to hers.
Leon’s mouth twitched at Carla’s high-handedness. Not that he was about to argue with her. He didn’t want to leave yet, and, now that she mentioned it, he realized he was hungry. Win-win.
Besides, sitting next to her rather than standing on the other side of the breakfast bar allowed him to breathe in the heady musk that was pure Carla.
They ate in silence for several minutes. “Are you wearing anything under that cute nightshirt?” he finally questioned gruffly, her musk having invaded all his senses.
“Lacy bra and panties,” she dismissed lightly. “A red set Natalia leant me,” she added in a suggestive voice, her gaze holding his as it was accompanied by the equally seductive glide of her lips down the fork as she put some of the eggs into her mouth.
As if Leon needed any encouragement to imagine Carla’s curves covered only by a skimpy red lace bra and panties. Or the visual of her making love to the fork in the same way she’d taken his cock in her mouth earlier today.
He gave a low groan. “Is this a form of torture to punish me?”
She wiggled her eyebrows at him. “You have your methods, and I have mine.”
“I think yours is much more effective.”
“But less so if I were a man, huh?” she said dryly.
“It would have no effect on me at all if you were a man. Not that I have anything against same-sex relationships or marriages,” he added in case Carla decided to take exception to his comment, which he knew she was perfectly capable of doing. “I’m just not personally attracted to other men.”
Her chuckle was one of pure evil. “You’re also very aware you’re skating on thin ice with me at the moment, hm?”
Leon grimaced. “After already falling through the ice and then barely managing to pull myself back out onto the surface again.” He nodded.
“Oh I wouldn’t say you�
�re completely out of that icy water yet.”
He stifled another laugh. “Eat the rest of your eggs while they’re still hot.”
“Yes, sir.” She feigned a salute before resuming eating.
Leon gave a shake of his head. “I don’t remember dating ever being this difficult.” He forked up some eggs off his own plate.
Carla glanced at him sideways. “This is a date?”
He shrugged. “As close as it gets for me, yes.”
She smiled ruefully. “When did you last date anyone?”
He frowned. “You know, I don’t think I ever actually have. I was too busy before my marriage, and I had lots of one-night stands after I was widowed. But nothing at all for the past ten years.”
Her eyes widened. “Ten years?”
He gave a rueful grimace. “Please don’t remind me that’s almost half your lifetime.”
“But—”
“Carla.” His hand briefly covered hers. “I’m not some heartless prick who beds any female he sees, okay? And I’ve never dated any woman.”
“Not even Natalia’s mother?”
He shook his head. “It was an arranged marriage.”
“My God, do people still do that?”
“In the Italian Mafia they do. Or they did for me and my brother.”
“Will Natalia’s marriage be arranged too?”
He raised his brows. “You’ve met my daughter, right?”
Carla snorted. “I’ll take that as a no. These eggs are really good, by the way. Light and fluffy and buttery.”
“But you’re surprised I knew how to cook them,” he guessed.
“Yes.”
Leon looked away from the temptation of some of the butter glistening on the fullness of her lips. “Some nights, when Natalia was a little girl, she didn’t sleep so well. On those nights we’d go down to the kitchen on my estate. I’d cook eggs, and we’d sit and eat them in there together. She still usually ended up sleeping in my bed on those nights, but she’d mainly forgotten the reason she’d woken in the first place.”
“Why didn’t she sleep?”
“Nightmares. She was about five when she realized that other children had a mother as well as a father. I made a mistake when Natalia asked me where her mama was and told her that Rosa had sadly died when she was born.” He grimaced. “It didn’t even occur to me that in a five-year-old’s head, that would translate into her having killed her own mother.”
“Whoa.”
“Exactly.” He gave a pained wince. “Not only that, but Natalia became obsessed with the idea that I was going to die too, or leave her, because she’d been wicked and killed her mother.”
Carla was aware that right now, Leon was probably telling her things he had never shared with anyone else. He simply wasn’t the type of man to share such intimate secrets regarding his family. He was probably making an exception with Carla now as another way of apologizing for having doubted her innocence earlier. But that didn’t make it any less huge that he wanted to share this with her. Although she wasn’t sure Natalia would be as pleased to learn Carla knew some of her secrets.
Carla placed one of her hands on his as it rested on the breakfast bar. “No one seeing the two of you together could ever doubt how much you love Natalia and she loves you.”
He turned his hand over to clasp hers. “She’s spoiled and willful, but also the one constant in my life for the last twenty years, and I love her very much.”
“You never thought of marrying again?”
“Never. I told you, my marriage to Rosa was arranged, decided between our two fathers as a good match for La Famiglia. Once I became capo, I didn’t have the inclination or time to want that for myself again.”
“And yet you have no heir.”
“Not true. It’s taken a while, but I’ve finally brought our organization into the twenty-first century. Obviously kicking and screaming, in some cases,” he added in a hard voice. “That modernization means it’s now possible for Natalia to take over as my heir if she wishes to be capo.”
“Do you think she will?”
He gave an affectionate smile. “As I said, I love my daughter very much, and it’s because I do that I know Natalia would make a terrible capo. The first of the Famiglia who came whining to her over some minor slight, and she would probably tell them to either get over it or get a life.” He chuckled affectionately. “I have no doubt Natalia will forge her own path in life, and it will not be as the head of our family.”
Carla agreed with him. Natalia didn’t have the patience or empathy to rule the powerful Italian Mafia empire.
She also thought this conversation had become altogether far too serious. Yes, he had upset her by not believing her, and she was relieved he’d admitted he’d been wrong to doubt her, but she really didn’t want to get to know the Leon behind the mask of capo any more than she already did. To actually like him more than she already did, as well as physically desire him.
And yet…
She carefully placed her knife and fork on her empty plate. “As I said before, don’t you have somewhere else you need to be right now?”
Leon quirked one eyebrow. “Still trying to get rid of me?”
The wet channel between her thighs clenched in protest of that idea, her breasts aching to be touched. By this man and no other.
Carla chewed briefly on her bottom lip. “The opposite, I think.”
He stilled. “In the interest of self-preservation—I’m very aware of that thin ice beneath my feet,” he added self-derisively. “I’m going to need you to explain that remark.”
Carla didn’t have an explanation, as such, only a burning need to fully know this man’s lovemaking before he returned to his life in New York and forgot about her.
Perhaps she wanted that so badly because she knew that Leon would shortly return to New York and forget she existed.
But not until after he had dealt with the men who had tried to kill him. One of those men being Benny, the man Carla had once intended to marry, she reminded herself.
Benny was an adult of almost thirty, and he’d made his own choices. Initially, he’d lost her by taking another woman—women—to their bed. Then two days ago, he’d tried to further his involvement with the Mafia, to become a made man, by killing Leonardo Brunelli.
Even the thought of the vital and powerful Leon being dead caused Carla to draw in a pained breath.
No matter who or what Leon was, he had never demanded anything from her but instead had been attentive and protective where she was concerned. Admittedly, he had never made any secret of his desire to make love to her, but Carla found that physical intensity flattering rather than frightening. Besides which, she was very aware he would probably leave her apartment after tonight and never come back.
“You’re giving this explanation an awful lot of thought.” Leon winced. “Maybe I should just—”
“No!” The protest left her lips the moment she realized Leon was going to get up and leave. “No,” she repeated calmly. “Please don’t go yet.”
“I’ll leave Padraic downstairs to protect you—”
“I don’t want Padraic to protect me!” she almost shouted in her frustration. “I want— I want—”
Leon turned fully to face her before gently turning her body toward him until their knees touched. “Tell me,” he encouraged gruffly.
“You,” she burst out. “I want you, Leon.” Her voice broke emotionally. “I have no explanation for it, so please don’t ask me for one. Just please don’t go yet.” She reached out to grasp hold of both his hands. “Stay here with me for a little while.”
His eyes narrowed. “Carla, I have no choice but to punish your ex-boyfriend.”
She nodded. “I know that. Although I would really rather you weren’t the one responsible for ordering Benny’s death, I know that decision isn’t mine to make. You’re the one he attempted to kill in order to impress whoever it is he’s working for.”
“He almost kil
led you by mistake, and for that alone, he deserves to die.” Leon also believed Russo would already have put out a hit on the younger man. A hit Leon could stop but wasn’t sure he wanted to, not when the younger man had treated Carla with such disrespect in the past and then almost killed her yesterday, even if accidentally. The matter would need further consideration on Leon’s part. “The man Calabro works for is Don Sebastian Russo. They are connected by marriage, and Russo is one of my dons from the boroughs of New York.”
Her eyes widened. “Please tell me your men have him?”
“They do,” he confirmed with satisfaction.
She looked puzzled. “Then why are you still here with me?”
“Because some things are more important to me than retaliation.” He hoped he wasn’t imagining the longing he saw flare briefly in Carla’s dark eyes. “You are more important to me than that,” he stated so there should be no misunderstanding as to his meaning.
Leon was unsure as to what his feelings for Carla actually were, except to know that he’d never felt this way about any woman before her. He also had no intention of leaving this apartment before things were more settled between the two of them. Not even to question Don Sebastian. There was no rush. Neither the older man nor any of his men were going anywhere in the foreseeable future.
“Carla?” he questioned uncertainly at her continued, and uncharacteristic, silence.
“We’re going back to bed.” She kept hold of one of his hands as she stood. “And not to sleep.”
“The injury to your head—”
“Is perfectly fine, thanks to the prompt attention of you and the doctor,” she dismissed.
Leon couldn’t think of another argument against that “going back to bed and not to sleep” plan.
Not that he tried very hard!
Even so… “Are you sure—”
“Very.”
“I may not want to let you go after.”
She smiled. “All the better. Now could we—” She broke off as Leon’s phone buzzed with an incoming text message. “You probably need to deal with that,” she encouraged gruffly when he hesitated.
“You won’t change your mind if I do?”
Leon (Dance with the Devil 2) Page 9