Page 85 of Craving Chaos
Waking up at Renzo’s place feels surprisingly normal, considering I’ve never been here before last night. I suppose it’s not so much the apartment that feels familiar as the man. I think I might feel at ease no matter where I am so long as he’s there with me.
I don’t even have to open my eyes to feel the effects. His pheromones are to me what catnip is to cats—a single tendril of his scent and my insides go all warm and gooey. I stretch out in the bed, relishing the feel of waking to such sublime contentedness.
“Never letting you out of my bed again,” Renzo murmurs in a gravelly voice heavy with sleep as he pulls me closer with an arm lassoed around my waist.
The joy in my heart unfurls in a smile. “Never is awfully absolute. I might need to go to the bathroom or eat every now and then.”
“Nope. Too risky.”
I giggle and snuggle up closer to him. “What do you have planned today?”
“If you are absolutely sure you don’t want me to step down, then I need to talk to my uncle and tell him that he doesn’t have to take my place as boss. He’ll be relieved, so that will be easy enough.”
“I’m certain.”
He nods. “After that, I should probably deal with my cousin Sante. He made some seriously poor life choices last night. That conversation won’t be so pleasant.”
“Noemi mentioned that he was having a hard time dealing with his dad’s betrayal.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Renzo mutters. “What about you? You have plans today?”
“I suppose I’ll start thinking about what I want to do with myself. I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night, but I’ve already told my cousins I’m stepping down.”
He lifts above me so he can see my face. “You sure about that? I don’t want to be the reason you quit doing what you love.”
I smile softly. “I’ve thought about it extensively over the past couple of weeks, and I’m positive. You’re worth the change.”
He kisses me ardently. “Fuck, I love you so much. And I promise you won’t be bored. We’re doing this together—not only going after those Albanian assholes but all of it. We’re a team on all fronts. My role as boss included.”
“You think your family will accept me? Trust might be an issue.”
“It took you a handful of days to have me eating out of the palm of your hand. The others will be no different.”
I like his optimism, but for once, I’m having trouble seeing it. “The other thing I need to do is check out the address on Mari’s passport. It’s not the same as her apartment.”
“It wasn’t familiar?”
“Nope.”
“Well, that sounds like a perfect excuse to avoid dealing with my cousin. Let’s get cleaned up, and we’ll check out the place together.”
My answering grin makes the Joker look demure. I’m definitely a little unhinged when it comes to Renzo, but I adore how happy it makes me to work alongside him and to know that he wants me right there with him. We are a team—a good one—and I’m so damn grateful to have him.
Two hours later, and we’re standing outside the small apartment building housing the unit listed on Mari’s passport. We investigated the address online and found it’s listed in someone else’s name. That’s about the extent of what we learned, which meant it was time to do an in-person visit.
Renzo arranges for several of his men to meet us near the building. We decide on a direct approach of knocking on the front door with me taking the lead. Renzo joins me while the others are on standby down the hall. We’re both armed, though we leave our weapons holstered as we wait for someone to answer my knock. It’s an older building without an entry code, so anyone can get in. It's not that the buzzered entries are all that difficult to circumvent.
I knock again after no one answers. We wait another minute, then decide to go in. I take out my lock-picking kit and have the door open in thirty seconds flat.
“They need to upgrade to a better deadbolt,” I say distractedly as the door swings open, and we peer inside. The place is small. Looks like a family home—maybe an older couple. It’s not what I expected to find.
We do a careful sweep to make sure the place is empty before we start combing through its contents. The main bedroom has one of those old oak rolltop desks. Photos are stacked in piles and shoved in the open slots. It’s overflowing with pictures, and most of them are of me.
“Fuuuuck,” I say on a weary exhale.
“Jesus Christ. Who is this woman?”
“Hell if I know.” I thought I knew, but clearly, I was horribly wrong.