Page 58 of The Don

I push the door open and hesitantly enter his office. “Here you go.” I hand him the phone but can’t bring myself to meet his eyes.

“What is it?”

“Hmmm.” I wrap my arms around my chest and rock back on my heels.

“Amorina,” he says and stands to his feet. He walks around the desk and captures me into his body warmth. “What is it?” he repeats.

“Um.” I swallow the dry scratch in the back of my throat. “Rose and Dominic will be returning soon, so I’ll be leaving...”

“What? Why?”

“Rose said they have to return because of some meeting, which means I’ll be moving back in with her.”

“No. You’re not leaving.”

“I have to,” I say as I find the courage to look up into Ruben’s fiercely passionate eyes.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“That’s because it is. You can leave if you choose to, or you can stay here, with me.” Does he really want me, or is he trying to be kind? “Stop it,” he commands as if he’s heard my thoughts. “Your body is giving you away. You’re tense and your breath is short and sharp. You don’t believe I don’t want you here, do you?”

“Not exactly, but close enough.”

He laces his fingers through my hair and tilts my head up so I’m looking into his eyes. “I know you’re young, and I’m much older than you are, but I want you.”

Our ages have never been a concern for me. “You do?” I whisper.

“Everything you want to give me, I’ll greedily take.” He kisses my forehead. “I want you, every day, every hour, any way I can have you.”

My stomach flutters as I close my eyes and lean into him. “Can I think about it?”

“Anything you want.” Ruben kisses the top of my head as he nestles me closer into him. “I want you to stay here, Amorina, because this is your home.”

I wrap my arms around his waist, pushing our bodies closer together. I think he’s right.

This is my home.

He’s my home.

Chapter thirteen

Ruben

“Ruben,” Dante says as he bursts into my office.

“What is it?”

“One of the shipments has been hit.”

I turn the computer off and stand to my feet. “Which shipment?” I ask, already shrugging into my jacket as I head toward the door.

“The smaller of three cocaine shipments. Fifty pounds, gone.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose as I intake a breath. “The other two?”

“Made it in without a problem.”