Sweet Pain (Amatucci Family #3) - Sadie Jacks Page 0,70

idea. I think the first thing I need to do is make sure I still have clients to keep the doors open here.” She wrinkled her nose. “Just my luck, I would start to become successful and then have my life implode.”

I pulled her into my side. Kissed her hair.

She chuckled. “Well, not all of it imploded.” She turned her face up to mine, pressed a kiss to my chin. She blew out a breath. “Let’s go say hi, shall we?”

I held out an arm, bowed slightly. “As you wish, my lady.”

She snickered, bobbed a curtsey and moved through the double swinging doors. As if she’d just gotten a two-hour massage, I watched her body ease and relax. She was a baker. It wasn’t part of her profession or just a job. She thrived in making edibles that brought other people joy. This was her vocation, her reason, her passion.

She spun around her space, touching each piece of equipment lovingly. I could have sworn I heard her whispering to it all. And…yup, she hugged her mixer.

I chuckled softly. I didn’t want to interrupt her reunion. Her recentering. I don’t know that there was any one particular thing in my life that I could wrap myself up in. Lose myself in the minutiae or even the big picture.

Nothing except her.

“Am I intruding on your love affair?” I asked.

She shot me a vibrant smile over her shoulder. “Maybe just a little.” She winked. She danced over to the walk-in cooler. Ran her hands over the solid steel surface. “Sometimes, when the kitchen gets so freaking hot that it feels like it’s melting my bones, I escape in here.” Waving me over, she grabbed my hand and pulled me into the dark depths.

She slapped a hand to the wall, casting the room into brutal light. “It was perfect. No sound but the unit running. No heat. All the sweat would just evaporate. My own little igloo heaven.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “And right now, it’s empty.” A frown tugged at her mouth.

Lifting her face, she shook her head. “That just won’t do. It needs to be full. Full of love and joy and smiles and happiness and laughter and giggles. Moments that help celebrate a lifetime. Moments that bring together two halves into a single whole. Moments that etch themselves onto hearts and become beacons of hope. Moments that remind us of better times when life is hard.”

I shook my head, marveled at her spirit. “That’s what you give to people.”

Her cheeks pinkened. “That’s what I hope I give people.”

“Then it seems you need to get back to work, Ms. Chase-Future-Penn.” I wiggled my eyebrows at her.

Her chuckle was the sweetest music. “I’ll plan on that, Mr. Penn-Future-Chase.”

I wrinkled my nose. Shook my head. “I’m not sure that’s going to work.”

She laughed. “As soon as I said it, I didn’t like it.”

I snagged her hip, dragged her against me. “Good. As long as I own your heart, mind, and body, you can keep your last name or take mine.” I kissed her.

Her lips tipped up under mine. “Considering I don’t want to be affiliated in any way, shape, or form, with my parents, it’s either your name or Amatucci.”

“Penn. Penn will look great,” I rushed to answer. “I’m not sharing you with that family any more than I have to.”

She tipped her head back, a sulk on her sexy mouth. She glared at me. “Rude.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I meant. I actually like most of them. Even Nico. But if you’re changing your name, it will be to Penn. Not Amatucci. Besides, Papa Amatucci is going to be getting a rapid influx of Amatucci members of his family if the guys all claim their girls. I’m stealing from the Amatucci family this one time.”

Her lips curled. “Stealing from the Amatuccis can be hazardous to your health.”

I pulled her into my chest. “Then I guess I’ll be living on borrowed time. You’re mine and I refuse to share you.” I slid my hands down her hips, cupped her ass. “Now, we should probably leave. My balls are trying to pull up into my body for warmth.”

She laughed against my mouth as she kissed me.

**

“Mr. Penn, how good to see you back in the office,” my executive assistant said as he rose to his feet when we exited the private elevator. A distinguished looking gentleman who’d introduced himself as asexual, I never had to worry that he