Page 23 of Saved By A God
Rosie smirks at me. “Did you like the song?”
“It was okay.”
“After I put in all that time looking for the right song for you!” She fakes looking hurt as she presses her hand to her chest. “You have zero taste in music.”
I glance at the outfit she’s wearing. “And you have zero taste in clothes. Haven’t you had those jeans since high school?”
“They’re comfy.” She grabs her phone from her handbag and kicks my device off the system before connecting her own to my car. The next moment,Barbie GirlbyAquablasts over my speakers.
“Fuck, Rosie. Put that shit softer.”
She shoots me a mischievous grin. “No. I made this playlist specifically for you.” Rosie sings along, and as it finally comes to an end, she says, “Next up…” She does a drumroll on my dashboard. “What does the fox say?”
When she sings along again, I raise an eyebrow at her because why the fuck does she know the lyrics?
A minute later, she tortures me with some opera song sung by the fuckingMinions, and just as I pull into the parking lot ofher preferred grocery store,Baby Sharkstarts blasting through my speakers.
I switch off the engine and give her an unimpressed look. “You suck.” We get out, and as I fall in beside her, I ask, “Why didn’t you place an online order?”
“Cabin fever, my friend. It’s a thing. Look it up.” She grabs a cart and goes straight to the bakery.
When Rosie lets out a moan, my eyes flick to her face, and I watch as she sniffs the air while looking dangerously close to having an orgasm.
At the most inappropriate time, I begin to harden and grab the cart from her. I rest my forearms on the handlebar while leaning forward to hide my hard-on from everyone.
“You know what that smells like?” she asks. I don’t bother replying, and she grins at me. “Heaven.”
While Rosie grabs some rolls and desserts, I glance over the store, looking for anything suspicious. Alessio and Raffaele are a few steps away, and the other fourteen men are scattered around us, with a couple stationed outside.
“Have you been working with Augusto the past week?” I ask Raffaele.
“Yeah. Just say if you need help with anything.” He shoots Rosie a playful smile. “It’s boring being Rosie’s underboss. Zero action.”
“At least you won’t get your butt shot at,” she grumbles.
On the move again, we’re just about to pass the fruits and vegetables, and when it’s clear Rosie doesn’t plan to get anything healthy, I snap, “Stop right there.”
When she glances over her shoulder, she scrunches her nose and says, “I still have bananas that my dad brought over.”
Alessio and Raffaele chuckle as I grab some grapes, blueberries, and apples before loading zucchini, mushrooms, baby spinach, and a bunch of other vegetables into the cart.
“Good luck getting her to eat any of that,” Alessio mutters under his breath.
“I’m not cooking any of that,” Rosie says while getting chocolate-flavored yogurt. “I don’t have time.”
“I’ll make it.”
I’m given a happy grin before she darts in the direction of the snack aisle.
“I need to have Dr. Milazzo check her sugar levels.”
“Just say when and I’ll have the doctor come to the fortress,” Raffaele replies.
Once Rosie has enough snacks to feed the entire Cosa Nostra, I begin to add meat, rice, soups, and other ingredients.
Just as I reach the end of an aisle, another cart knocks into the front of ours.
A woman, looking like a model who’s stepped out of a fashion magazine, smiles at me. “I’m so sorry.”
