More importantly, what reason could Leon possibly have for lying to her?
If she had read the situation correctly, then Leon needed Benny to confess to whoever his employer was. Which meant her apartment was the last place Leon should have been for the past few hours. He had Benny to question. Punishments to decide and mete out once he had the brains behind the assassination attempt—because that certainly wasn’t Benny. The one place Leon shouldn’t have been was in—on—her bed or in her apartment.
Then why was he still here?
What did he have to gain from having remained here after she’d told him to leave? She couldn’t see a single reason for Leon to be here when he could quite easily have instructed one of his three Irish bodyguards to continue keeping a watch on her and report back to him if she left her apartment.
After falling asleep during the day for so long it was now evening, and after being shot on the side of her head last night, Carla was too befuddled to answer any of those questions.
“Tea or coffee?” Leon prompted briskly.
She blinked at this sudden change of subject. “Sorry?”
“Tea would be better, I think,” Leon decided. “It’s more refreshing and won’t lie so heavily in your stomach if you’re feeling nauseous.”
Carla reached out to grasp hold of the bedside table to stop herself from swaying. “How did you know I feel nauseous?”
He shrugged those broad shoulders. “Because the last person I saw looking as pale as you’ve suddenly become was lying in an open casket at their wake.”
“How descriptive,” she returned with saccharine sweetness. “I bet you have to fight the women off with a stick with slick compliments like that at your fingertips.”
Leon couldn’t stop himself from laughing out loud.
He realized this woman made him happy.
Happy and joyous.
They were both concepts Leon hadn’t known for such a long time, if he ever had, that it had taken him until now to realize what was so different about Carla and the effect she had on him.
Obviously, she was beautiful, but she also made him laugh, at himself as much as anything else. He felt lighter in her company. Became Leon, rather than capo die capi. A title Carla had made it obvious she considered to be more of a detriment than something in his favor, as so many other people did.
He loved his daughter, even if Natalia was a spoiled brat.
He was proud to have taken the Famiglia into a less violent regime this past ten years.
He valued the men who followed him as capo and the ones who were his and Natalia’s personal bodyguards.
He appreciated his wealth and privileged lifestyle.
But none of those things made him happy inside in the way that Carla now did simply by being in the same room with him.
Most people tended to hold him somewhat in awe. Because of who he was and the power he wielded, over their future or their workplace.
Carla didn’t give a damn about who he was or that power he could wield with a snap of his fingers. She was irreverent, disrespectful, and told him exactly what she thought of him or anyone else who annoyed her.
Because a year ago, Calabro had betrayed her so badly she simply didn’t care what any man thought of her anymore?
Possibly, although Leon had a feeling Carla had always been outspoken.
And desirable.
So fucking desirable—and cute in that unicorn nightshirt—that Leon was in danger of starting to drool if he didn’t get out of this bedroom for a few minutes, at least.
“I’m going to make you some tea,” he announced firmly before striding out of the room.
Carla dropped down heavily on the side of the bed once she was sure she was alone. She had absolutely no idea how Leon came to still be in her apartment when she had told him to leave, repeatedly, let alone now be in her kitchen making her a cup of tea.
The Italian Mafia capo dei capi was in her kitchen making her a cup of tea.
And that was just—to use Leon’s favorite word when he was annoyed or upset—un-fucking-believable.
Chapter Ten
“I made you something to eat to go with the tea,” Leon explained when Carla frowned at the plate of scrambled eggs and toast waiting for her on the breakfast bar, along with that promised cup of tea. “I know you slept through lunch, but did you eat breakfast?”
Carla knew she could continue to try to insist Leon leave and ensure he understood she never wanted to see him again, but unless he wanted to do those things, they weren’t going to happen.
Instead, she would have to wait until he’d left her apartment and then lock the door behind him before putting the dead bolt in place. Not that she thought that would keep him out if he should decide he wanted back in, but it was the principle of the thing.
Yes, she could do all those things. The question was, did she really want to?
Leon looked younger with his hair tousled and his appearance disheveled, with his shirt and trousers creased from when he had lain on the bed beside her for several hours. The unfastened buttons at the neck of the shirt gave her a glimpse of the gray hair on his chest.
And this gorgeous man has just made me scrambled eggs, toast, and tea.
Something more than her ex-fiancé, or any other man, had ever done for her. Either she had always had lousy taste in men or men nowadays just didn’t think they had to make the effort to impress a woman. Being an independent woman was a must as far as Carla was concerned, but a little thought and some TLC from a man in no way detracted from her independence or his manhood.
Incredible that show of care should come from the ruthless head of the Italian Mafia.
Which, at the very least, called for a certain amount of honesty on her
