“Ah, mue amor.” Antonio kissed the top of her head. “I do love pampering you.”
Every time he said this, Charly’s heart would beat a rapid tattoo against her chest. “In that case—”
“Still.” He speared her an amused yet stern glance. “No instant noodles or that creamy beef blob you like to eat on my watch. Or Ida’s watch, for that matter.” He took the seat beside her and began to pour her coffee from the carafe.
“Such a tyrant,” she sassed.
He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. “But you love this tyrant, sim?” Antonio pulled back slightly, keeping his face a hair’s breadth away from hers.
“Very much.”
He kissed her slow and sweet and, when they broke apart, Charly said, “Good morning.”
And the smile that transformed his stern face to one full of tenderness was the perfect image to start her morning.
Still, Charly was done with convalescing. Her brain wasn’t used to being idle. Unlike Antonio, she didn’t do domesticated crap well. She blamed her long hours as a medical student and the convenience of frozen dinners. Although she did miss Ida’s cooking. Right now she was on her laptop, studying the tweaked antiviral that Dr. Stephen Powell created to save her life.
Antonio walked into the living room where she was sitting cross-legged on the couch.
“What do you want for dinner?” he asked, fishing out his phone presumably to pick a restaurant.
“Pizza,” Charly said.
He glanced up from his phone and scowled at her. “No pizza.”
“Antonio, can I just have something with cheese and bread and tomato sauce.” Saliva pooled under her tongue. “I swear, I haven’t had decent pizza in a year.”
He lowered his phone. “Define decent pizza.”
She rolled her eyes and fiddled on her laptop, searching for pizza in Los Angeles, then showed him her screen. “There. Does that pass your royal pickiness?”
On the screen was a pizza joint that adhered to centuries old traditions of Neapolitan-style pizza and only used a particular fresh Mozzarella from Campania, Italy.
“That does look decent.”
“I’m salivating,” Charly said. “I’ll eat anything with melty cheese.”
He smiled at her indulgently. “Fine. Pizza it is for tonight. I’ll have Brandon send one of his men to pick it up.”
“They deliver.”
The scowl returned. “I don’t want the pizza to be mishandled.”
Resisting the urge to chuckle, Charly said, “Pizza was made to be delivered. I don’t want you to fire a bodyguard for letting the cheese pool into one corner.”
“I would never—”
She raised a brow.
“Not over pizza,” he muttered. The phone in his hand rang. He stared at the screen and swiped, holding the device to his ear. “I was about to call you.” Antonio’s brows knitted.
“Here?” He listened a bit more. “Yes. Let them through.”
He glanced at Charly. “We have visitors.”
Their visitors turned out to be the detectives, followed by two more SUVs.
“What’s going on?” Charly asked. She stood beside Antonio at the front door as the LAPD Explorer coasted to a stop in front of them. It was followed by a dark Escalade and a familiar Suburban which she was pretty sure had Garrison behind the wheel and Bristow riding shotgun.
Gabby stepped out from the passenger door of the first SUV. “Glad to see you out and about, Doctor.”
“Thanks,” Charly grinned, but her smile faltered when she saw the occupants of the second vehicle.
Ariana and Miguel Walker.
Charly stole a glance at Antonio. His eyes were focused on Migs and Ariana, jaw clenching, then he noticed she was looking at him. He stepped closer to Charly, putting his arm around her and drawing her close.
“Charly!” Ariana walked over to them while Migs rounded the back of the Escalade.
The other woman yanked her out of Antonio’s hold and hugged her as if they were long lost sisters.
“I was so worried for you,” she gushed, then her eyes flashed over Charly’s shoulder at Antonio. “I can’t believe you kidnapped her!”
“I was protecting her.” He dragged Charly back into his arms. “What’s going on here?” Antonio nodded to Ariana’s husband.
Migs had hauled out a cooler from the back of their vehicle.
Instead of answering him, Ariana looked at Charly. “And then when I found out you were stricken with Ebola, it took me forever to get through to Antonio.”
“We were busy,” Antonio clipped.
“I sent a couple of my best vitamin infusions,” Ariana continued.
“Oh, Antonio didn’t say they came from you.” Charly frowned, glancing up at him.
“I didn’t want you to think that I was still in touch with Ariana,” Antonio said testily. “I didn’t want any misunderstanding.” He stared at Migs’ wife. “I never thought I would ever say I’m not happy to see you, Ariana, but I’m trying to convince Charly that I will make a good husband.” He sighed. “Your appearance sort of puts a kink in my plans.”
His revelations made Charly’s cheeks burn and her heart soar. These past few days of pampering was Antonio’s method of wooing her to become his wife? And she was appalled at Antonio’s rudeness.
Ariana’s slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my goodness, Antonio. I’m so sorry.”
“Are you insulting my wife, Andrade?” Migs came up to them and slung an arm over her shoulders protectively.
“Christ,” Bristow muttered from behind Migs and Ariana. “Are we going to have a knock down and drag out match again?”
At this point, Charly thought it was funny. She could totally see Antonio and Migs going at it, judging from when she first met them in Mexico, but not now. Not here. She embraced Antonio’s torso and gave him a squeeze, reassuring him she was secure in his love.
“I was being an asshole,” Antonio admitted and kissed the top of her head.
Ariana was cupping her jaw in what looked like an attempt to hide a giddy smile. “I really can’t believe it! Is Antonio Andrade finally in love?” She looked at Charly. “You know what Antonio told me when he proposed?”
“Ariana—” Antonio growled.
“Babe, I don’t think …”
