Page 22 of Safe Word

I sighed at the absurdity of my life.

D’Angelo was a chauvinist – or at least acted like one. But damn if there wasn’t something inviting about him, something I couldn’t quite shake. Perhaps it was better if he didn’t hire me. I wouldn’t be able to work for someone like him.

Fishing out my phone, I saw three missed calls from my brothers’ numbers. I couldn’t deal with them now. I thumbed my cousin’s name and pressed call, listening to the beeping like an infernal summoning spell gone wrong.

And she didn’t disappoint.

Gianna answered on the third ring, her voice thick with Italian disdain.

‘What do you want?’

It wasn’t a question – it was a threat dressed as one.

‘Jesus, woman. Who pissed in your espresso?’ I winced.

She gave a long, dramatic sigh. I could practically see her yanking the hair tie off her black ponytail, redoing it tighter – as if strangling her scalp might squeeze out the stress.

‘Work. I hate people.’

I snorted. ‘You do realise you work in tourism, right?’

She ignored me. There was a pause, then the sound of her breathing until the background fuzz of yelling tourists and honking cars faded.

‘Tell me something good, amore.’

I gave a non-committal shrug even though she couldn’t see it. ‘Had a few interviews today.’

‘That’s good?’

‘Not remotely.’

She went quiet for a beat.

‘You have a really warped definition of good, you know that?’ Her chuckle bled warmth through the phone, and it hit me in that tender place – the part of me that liked knowing I could still lift her out of her daily hell, even for a minute. And it lifted me right back.

I launched into a rundown of today’s failures, letting her laugh at the more pathetic bits, until she suddenly gasped so hard I had to pull the phone away.

‘Wait—not Cain D’Angelo? As in the Cain D’Angelo? The dark romance god himself?’

And there it was… I had forgotten about her weird taste in men.

‘The devil himself.’ I scrunched up my nose.

‘No fucking way! Is he hot in person or is it all Instagram filters and strategic shadows? He’s like… forty, isn’t he? No way he looked that good at forty without filters!’

I sighed, conceding with a raised brow. ‘He’s good looking, yeah. Broody. Alpha. The whole tortured-by-his-own-dick vibe.’

‘Listen here, if he hires you, swear on Nonna’s rosary you’ll introduce us!’

I made a face. ‘I’m trying to get a job, not turn you into the heroine of a smutty fanfic.’

A soundless laugh puffed through her nose.

I didn’t get it. At all. Women lost their minds over men like Cain. And I couldn’t decide whether it was emotional constipation, allergies to commitments or the square jaw that did it.

‘I need to blow off some steam. Coffee?’

‘Ah, no. Dad wants a family meeting.’