in about an hour, but I needed to talk to Francesca first. I walked into her apartment, sure that one day it would bite me in the ass. But you’d think that with as freely as we all came and went in each other’s homes, we’d learn to keep that shit in the bedroom.
“Francesca,” I called out as I entered the living room.
“In here,” she returned, and it sounded like she was in Phoenix’s office.
I headed towards Phoenix’s sanctuary and there was Francesca, sitting in the middle of the floor with textbooks and notepads scattered around her. She looked up from her laptop and blew a stray strand of her dark hair from her face.
My soul settled from the sight.
“What are you doing on the floor?” I asked. “I’m sure Phoenix wouldn’t mind you using his desk.”
She gave me a self-depreciating grin. “I know. I just don’t like to mess up his…stuff.”
“It’s better than messing up your back,” I retorted. “That can’t be comfortable, Francesca.”
“It’s not,” she agreed. “But, then, hunched over the couch isn’t either.”
I bent down and began gathering her things. “Then go to my place and work in my office if you’re so concerned with Phoenix’s…stuff.”
Francesca snorted. “Like your office is any better.”
“Then I’ll renovate one of the spare bedrooms into an office for you,” I countered. “You can use that.”
Placing her stuff on the desk I looked over at her. She smiled. “Thanks, but Phoenix is already looking to expanding this room and turning it into a dual office space for the both of us.”
“Maybe we should renovate one of the lower floors,” I said, thinking out loud.
Kratos was eight stories tall. The top floor was my penthouse. The next floor down was split in half to accommodate Ciro and Robbie’s apartment and Phoenix and Francesca’s apartment. The next floor down was our armory. It was an entire floor of weapons of all kinds. It even housed some of Ciro’s mid-evil torture devices. The fourth and fifth floors were empty. They were just basic floors with support beams and nothing more. The third floor was the common area where everyone who lived in the building could gather. We held meetings there, but it was, by all accounts, a social floor. The second floor housed the gym, swimming pool, spa, etc. The first floor was the lobby and the apartments for the Benetti soldiers and guards. However, they were my soldiers and guards. Not Gio’s.
“What for?” Francesca teased. “You going to start a business?”
I smiled. It was something I rarely did. But, then, I always felt free when it was just me and Francesca. With Francesca, I was nothing more than just her best friend.
“Maybe,” I quipped. “It all depends on what Robbie plans on doing once Ciro lets her out of his sight long enough for her to go back to work.”
Closing her laptop, she placed it on the desk and cocked her head. “What’s going on?”
She did know me better than anyone else. “What makes you think something’s going on?”
“Because I’ve seen you smile more in these past few minutes than I have in the entire time I’ve known you, Luca,” she replied with a smirk.
“That’s not saying much,” I teased.
Francesca walked over to the couch, sat down, and patted the space next to her. “Come sit.” Only Francesca Fiore could get away with telling me what to do, so I sat. She tucked her legs underneath her butt and faced me. “Talk to me.”
I leaned back and threw one arm over the back of the couch. “I met someone,” I confessed. Her golden orbs widened, and the sheen in them nearly put me in a panic. Francesca in tears was the only thing that was ever able to bring me to my knees.
“You did?” she asked, her voice soft and full of warmth. “Where? Who is she?”
I went on to tell her everything from the beginning. I told her everything, from witnessing the murder, to having Phoenix do a background search on her. From being drawn to her, to how I felt when she said someone followed her to the café. I even told her about last night. Not details, mind you, but what the woman made me feel. I held nothing back, but then, with Francesca, I never did.
She was quiet for a bit then asked the most important question that could be asked. “Do you trust her?”
I nodded. “I do,” I told her. “I’m not sure why I can be so certain