Page 26 of Paolo DeLuca
Chapter fifteen
Lyricpeeledhereyes open and stretched. She hadn’t slept that well in a long time. She turned over, with a smile, excited to greet—an empty bed? She sat straight up and wiped the crud away from her eyes to see more clearly. Did he leave without waking her? Disappointment swept through her body, settling in her heart. Fuck! She believed all the bullshit he spouted last night.
“I should’ve known,” she huffed, throwing the duvet off her legs and stalked to the bathroom to do her business.
Fucking DeLucas. She knew better. She was warned. Why didn’t she fucking listen?
“I need coffee,” she muttered, washing her hands before making her way to the kitchen. Lyric’s steps faltered when she opened the bedroom door.
He’s still here. And he’s looking at my painting.
Paolo stood with his back to her, giving Lyric the chance to admire his wide shoulders and muscular back. Her gaze moved down to his ass and thighs. He looked sexy as hell standing there in just his boxer briefs.
She stood watching him as he stared at the painting of himself. Nervousness mixed with anger washed over her. She had the canvas covered for a reason. On one hand, her anxiety was through the roof at the reality he may be upset she’d painted him without his permission. On the other, how dare he invade her privacy. She pushed every thought and feeling aside. At least he was still here. Lyric moved closer as he continued to study the painting.
“It’s when we first met,” she explained. “How I saw you standing in that doorway.”
He didn’t turn around, just sipped his coffee and continued to stare at the canvas.
Lyric pulled a mug down from the cabinet and filled it with the steaming-hot liquid. She put cream and sugar in the mug and stirred.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
“Was this really how you saw me?”
He finally faced her, and Lyric nodded. “In the beginning, it was. You were new and shiny.”
He smiled at her description, and his entire posture changed. His light-brown eyes lit up, and she felt herself falling. Lyric shook the feeling away. Paolo DeLuca was not a man to be falling for.
He paused, staring at her inquisitively. “And what about now?”
What about now? How did she see him?
Then she remembered her words last night. I see you.
That was true. She did see him. Just him. Not the name. Not the reputation. Just him.
“I meant what I said last night, Paolo. I see you. I don’t see the DeLuca name. I don’t see the reputation my grandparents warned me about. I see a man who is kind and loving. Protective. And a pain in my ass,” she snorted, putting her mug down and walking toward him. When Lyric reached him, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I see a man who I could fall for if I don’t guard my heart,” she finished in a whisper.
His hold tightened around her waist, and he kissed her on her forehead. “You should protect your heart because I’m not any of those things you said, Lyric. I’m ruthless, manipulative, evil. A savage and you best run, il mio cuore batte, if you know what’s good for you.”
He didn’t give her a chance to reply but extracted himself from her embraced, then stalked toward her bedroom.
“Get dressed,” Paolo called over his shoulder. “We’re leaving.”
***
Paolo quickly pulled on his discarded clothing and went to the car to wait for Lyric. He dialed Dante. “What’s the word?”
“No sign of her yet, but we did get a call from Rodriguez. He wants to meet.”
He figured he would. Three dead Barons. Of course, he would.
“Call him back,” Paolo ordered. “Tell him we meet tonight at Night Shade. Tell him he will be my honored guest.”
“Are we laying out the fucking red carpet too?” Dante snarled over the phone.
“Calm the fuck down.” Paolo smirked. “You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”
