FORTY-SEVEN.

I laugh as my cheeks turn bright pink, and I shove him backwards. “I’m curious, Don Valentino… Does your ass ever get jealous of the amount of shit that comes out of your mouth?” I tease, shuffling my butt to the edge of the desk.

Snorting, he plants both of his hands on the desktop, one hand on either side of my body, and he looks deeply into my eyes.

“You do realise that everything from this moment forward has changed between us, don't you?” He states seriously.

My eyes drink in every shade of blue swirling in his irises, and I scowl at him, coming to terms that his eyes are indeed cold and harsh.

Even when he’s being corny as fuck.

But I'd kill a bitch for his lashes.

“How so?”

“From now on, I want you in my bed.” He raises his hand and presses a finger against my lips as I open my mouth to protest. “I'm not going to lie to you, Farfalla. But, when you were recovering in my bed, I enjoyed having your face be the last thing I saw before falling asleep and the first thing I noti