Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“I’m working on it.”
“And you’re gonna fill Luca in.”
“Yes,” I said, nodding. “This all just happened. I’m focusing on trying to get Dasha taken care of. I will make all the appropriate calls once she’s settled.”
To that, Lucky nodded. “You need anything for her? Meds? Want me to call Lettie to look her over?”
Our cousin Lettie was the Family’s medical professional. She had her own ambulance, team, office, and everything.
“I checked her over. It looks worse than it is. Mostly just bruising and scrapes. She hit her head but not hard.”
“Maybe a house call tomorrow? Just to make sure?” Lucky suggested.
“Maybe. I’ll ask Dasha. After she’s gotten some sleep.”
“Alright. I’ll tell Lettie to check in and see. If you need anything on this, let me know.”
“Wait, let me pay you for the food,” I called as he made his way toward the back door.
“Nah. Take care of your girl,” he said, then he was gone.
When I turned back, I found Dom had made plates for all three of us and even popped a cork on a bottle of red.
“I’ll eat in here,” he offered as I collected Dasha’s wine and plate.
But once Dasha realized Dom had relegated himself to the kitchen, she demanded he join us in the living room. Even though it meant he had to bring in a dining chair and stack several boxes on top of each other to use as a table.
We ate together and watched some old sitcom reruns. And by the time I got the dishwasher emptied out and loaded again, Dasha was curled up and out cold on the couch.
So I made my call to Luca, who demanded I bring in Dante on the job so he could keep an eye on Domenico, who was still a bit of a loose cannon.
As Dasha rested, my brother, cousin, and I all worked on a plan for the shop that involved them going in early, cleaning up any blood or mess, then waiting until work hours to install the cameras. Under ‘orders from the boss.’ Dante even drew up some paperwork that I could have Dasha sign, in case there were any questions.
They would also try to get a look at the employees, see if anyone was walking funny or had scratches on their hands, or if they were acting strange or asking too many questions.
With that, the two of them headed out, I locked up, and then I returned to Dasha.
“What...” she started, jolting when I brushed her hair off her face.
“Just me,” I said when she brought up her hands, pressing them to her aching head, then whimpering as her scraped palms hurt. “I was just going to tuck you in. But do you want to go to bed instead?”
“Bed sounds good,” she said, wincing as she spoke. Her throat was likely really starting to ache.
We walked upstairs together. “I should probably offer you a guest room, in case you want to be alone. I, of course, would rather have you in my bed. But if you want—”
“I want that too,” she rushed to cut me off. “And not only because yours is the only finished room,” she added with a light in her pretty eyes.
I put on the TV without asking if she liked to sleep with one on or not. Mainly because I really needed a distraction when she was right there beside me, curling toward me, sharing body heat.
“It’s nice to sleep in a bed without one of the springs jabbing into my side all night.”
“That bad, huh?”
“I’m pretty sure the mattress is older than I am,” Dasha said with a big yawn. “I’m going to sleep like the dead here.”
Then she did exactly that.
As for me, I was up for hours just enjoying her nearness as I tried to work through the situation with her and the garage.
All I could conclude in the end was… she was keeping something from me.
And I was going to have to ask her what it was.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Dasha
It was the headache that woke me up sometime later, a little disoriented by the strange room and the only light coming from the purple glow of the TV across from the bed that had gone to screensaver mode.
It was the smell of cocoa and coffee that grounded me first. On the bed, on me, clinging to the man beside me.
Santo was still in sleep, his handsome face somehow just as masculine in the softness of rest. He was still wearing his clothes from earlier, though he’d undone a few shirt buttons, removed his belt, and set his watch on the nightstand.
Carefully, I slid off the bed, making my way into the bathroom, wincing at the harsh overhead light. I dug around in the cabinet and drawers until I found a bottle of acetaminophen to take for my aching head, then a spare toothbrush for my teeth.