Page 34 of Humility

“Don’t bother yourself with it. Who she was to us is in the past.” Angelo pushed away from the desk and dropped the list in Dario’s lap. “Tomorrow, go pick up what’s needed on the list, call HD Services, and get Eggbert out to the house to fix the leak in the ceiling.”

“Why me?”

“Say stupid things, win stupid prizes,” Angelo said. Dario mumbled “Asshole” under his breath.

“I’m going to bed before you have more dickish ideas.” Dario marched out the door and disappeared as Anglo snickered and flopped down in the chair.

“Is he right?”

“About?”

“That Falcone’s daughter is getting married. Is that true?” Angelo’s eyes flicked down to the drink he was holding.

“Apparently. Nothing I can do about it. I can’t go back without being killed, and what the fuck do I have to offer her?” He rubbed at his eyes. “She must know about the egg by now, and she hated me before that fiasco. It doesn’t matter anymore, that was another life.”

“You really should meet Isabella, maybe she can get Falcone’s daughter out of your mind,” I offered, and Angelo shrugged. “We could share her, give her a good ride.”

“I’ll think about it, but…” He stood and marched over to his desk. “I have work to do. You can show yourself out.”

And just like that, he closed the door on any talk of emotions. How did I get stuck with two emotionless jerks?

“Okay, boss,” I said and walked out, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. It was his loss, less competition. I would make Isabella mine, and he would be sorry.

Chapter Seventeen

JASMINE

My muscles screamed as I lifted the blanket. I didn’t think I could get out of bed. Everything hurt so bad. I’d never been one to shrug off responsibilities, but I’d never had to tend to an entire house before. My admiration rose a dozen more notches for all those back home who looked after the mansion daily.

There were no drapes on the windows, and I stared out at the grey, overcast sky. I couldn’t help wondering what my father was doing. Was he angry or sad that I was gone? No, I couldn’t look backward if I wanted to move forward.

Even though I had no job to go to, I forced myself to toss off the blankets, quickly made my bed, and wandered into the shower as I ignored the limp. The water sputtered and spurted when I turned it on before it began to flow. Trickle was a better description. I would’ve had better luck standing outside in a rainstorm or someone spitting on me, but it was all I had. I grabbed my soap and stepped under the meager ice-cold spray. I’d hoped this was just an issue last night when I was washing up. Apparently, I wasn’t so lucky.

Tipping my head back, I wet my hair and shampooed, and then the water stopped.

“Shit.” Soap ran down my face, and I groped for my towel, keeping my eyes closed. “Oh crap,” I swore, remembering I didn’t bring any. I left home with the bare minimum and didn’t arrange for any to be here, expecting something as basic as towels to be supplied.

My eyes stung and burned as I felt my way out of the shower. I used the door to stand without falling and swung my hand toward the sink. Why was this so hard? I turned on the taps with a squeak, but nothing happened.

“Are you kidding me?”

I slapped my hand on the wall and slid it around until I found the small towel and wiped my face. Stumbling out to the bedroom, I aimed for the bed but got myself turned around and stubbed my toe on the reading chair instead.

“Ow!” I dropped into the chair and held my now throbbing foot up as I pressed the towel to my eyes. There were water bottles in the fridge. I just needed to get there in one piece. Standing, I winced on my toe and had to feel around for my sweater that I had left on the chair. I pulled the cardigan on to stop the shivering and put my arm out as I tried to find the door. I managed with one eye open enough to know I was heading the right way. With a death grip on the banister, I took one stair at a time. I was proud of myself when my feet touched the lower-level floor, but my victory was short-lived as something sharp stabbed the bottom of my foot.

“Ah, fudge biscuits,” I growled. I hopped to the side to avoid landing on whatever was stuck in my foot again but smashed my shoulder into the wall.

A whimper trembled on my lips as I leaned there. As an added insult to injury—a hard knock sounded at the front door, and I glared down the hallway.

“Coming,” I called out as I limped on one foot and my heel to get to the door. It was a win to reach the handle, and not bothering to look or care anymore, I opened the door to find Enzo on my doorstep.

His eyes ran from my face down my body, and I realized my sweater was partially open and I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. I quickly grabbed the front in my free fist, and my skin warmed with his heated, sexual stare. I swallowed hard as his eyes found mine again.

“Um…” he said, licking his lips.

“I’m kinda having a bad morning,” I said, closing my eyes and covering my mouth with the hand towel to try and hold back the tears. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Leaving the door open, I hobbled toward the kitchen.

The door closed, and I heard his boots following me. What was wrong with me? I hardly knew him. I could’ve just let a murderer into my house for the second time, and the way my morning was going, it was a distinct possibility.