Page 25 of The Billionaire's Distraction

Tony didn’t grin—he never grinned—but something inside him warmed at her reaction.Without comment, he picked up a knife, chopped a handful of basil, and pointed with the blade toward a stool at the counter.“Sit down.I’ll get you some wine.Just let me finish the sauce.”

“I don’t need wine,” she protested weakly, though her eyes kept drifting to the simmering pan, to the way the scarlet sauce bubbled and thickened.“What kind of sauce is that again?”

“Romesco,” he said, giving the pot a final stir.He rinsed his hands, then reached up into a cabinet for two wine glasses, his movements efficient but unhurried.Turning back, he poured and handed her a glass, his dark eyes never leaving her face.“What happened today?”

She eyed the wine with open suspicion, sniffing it, even tilting it up to the light as though she could read its secrets through the glass.For a moment, she reminded him of a cat—cautious, watchful, unwilling to trust too easily.

“Mark hit Jacob several times today,” she admitted finally, her tone laced with fatigue.“Which meant Jacob had to retaliate.”

She took a tentative sip—and her shoulders softened, the tension easing in a single sigh.“Oh.This is really good.”She settled onto a stool, letting her bag slide to the floor with a heavy thump.“I’ll catch the next bus after dinner.”

He didn’t say anything, but the thought of her standing at some dark bus stop in that neighborhood twisted like a knife in his gut.The gangs might give her a wide berth because of their protection order, but there were worse things than gangs lurking in those streets.She wasn’t going back there—not tonight, not ever, if he had his way.

“Where’s this wine from?”

“Oregon,” he replied, pouring more into his own glass.“I was there last summer on business and found this vineyard.The pinot wines from Oregon aren’t like Napa.They are less bold, more delicate.It pairs better with certain sauces.”

She blinked at him, startled.“You know wines?”

Tony allowed himself the barest flicker of a smile, then winked.He enjoyed the way her shock softened into curiosity.People underestimated him constantly.He was big, he was brutal, and yet he appreciated detail, nuance, the art of flavor.

“I like to cook,” he explained, gesturing toward the scattered remnants of preparation across the countertop—garlic skins, a mortar with the remnants of crushed almonds and red peppers, a small dish of olive oil gleaming gold under the lights.“Good wine makes the food better.”

He reached into a cabinet and pulled out two bowls, plating the pasta with meticulous precision, perfect coils of noodles, sauce ladled just right.Setting one in front of her, he nudged the small bowl of freshly grated asiago cheese toward her.

“There’s the cheese.”His voice was steady, low, compelling.He glanced toward the sliding glass doors, where the last streaks of sunlight filtered in.“How about if we eat outside?The patio’s quiet.”

Naomi stared at the steaming bowl in front of her and he could see her resolve wavering with every breath of roasted peppers and garlic.

Chapter 14

Naomiwasconfused.Shewasn’t supposed to be here tonight.Her plan had been simple: drop the car off, hand Tony the key, and walk down to the bus stop.That had been her plan.

So why, instead, was she sitting outside in the cool evening air, a glass of wine in her hand, a gas fire pit casting a soft, romantic glow across the stone patio?Why was she eating what might be the best pasta she’d ever tasted in her life, the warmth of roasted peppers and garlic still lingering on her tongue?

The romesco sauce was unlike anything she’d had before—smoky, nutty, layered with flavors she couldn’t quite identify, but wanted to savor forever.Paired with the wine, it was intoxicating.

“Where are your parents?”Tony asked suddenly, his deep voice breaking the comfortable silence.

The question made her stiffen slightly.She took a slow sip of wine before answering, letting the ache dull in her chest.“My father skipped town when I was too young to remember him.”She swallowed hard, then forced the next words out.“And my mother died of cancer several years ago.”

His jaw flexed, the firelight catching the hard lines of his face.“I’m sorry,” he said softly, the words low and rough—weighted with more feeling than he seemed willing to show, every ounce of it tightly controlled.

Naomi nodded, staring into her glass, unsure what to say.Finally, she lifted her gaze.“What about you?”

He didn’t flinch.“My father is unknown.And my mother passed away when I was just a kid.”

There was something in his tone—flat, clipped—that hinted at more.Pain buried so deep it had calcified.For some reason, she knew instinctively that there was a story there, a dark one, but she didn’t know him well enough to ask.Not yet.

“How did you get into the security business?”she asked instead, hoping to ease the weight of the moment.

He gave a short grunt.“My friend Sal—he lives a few doors down—and I grew up in the same neighborhood.”He tipped his wineglass slightly in her direction, a subtle gesture.“Pretty close to where you live now, actually.”

Naomi blinked.“That’s weird,” she said with a faint grin, though she couldn’t explain why.There were thousands of people in her neighborhood, thousands scraping by paycheck to paycheck, just trying to keep their heads above water.Maybe it was the idea ofhim—this larger-than-life man with the expertly tailored shirts and fortress of a home—having ever lived that way.

“He had some ideas on how we could make money,” Tony continued.He set his glass down with deliberate care, as if even that small act required precision.“I worked beside him to make sure those ideas happened.”He shrugged, the motion casual, dismissive, as though their climb out of poverty had been nothing worth mentioning.“It’s worked out pretty well for both of us.”

Naomi gave a soft snort and glanced around.Pretty well?This wasn’t “pretty well.”This was wealth.Power.A stone patio bordered by carefully manicured shrubs and trees, their leaves bursting with springtime green.Beyond the fire pit, she could see meticulously placed lighting that gave the garden an otherworldly glow.