Текст книги "Love me stalk me"

Автор книги: Laura Bishop

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

NOW CHATTING WITH CALEB

Pretty Girl

hello, caleb

Caleb

Hey, pretty girl.

Haven’t heard from you in a while. I was worried.

sorrrrry

i waz busy being a human burrito of sadness but im better now!

alsooooo i miiiiight b a little drunk rn soooo dont judge

I would never.

You’re out with Amanda?

howd u kno? u stalking me??

Always.

creep

You like it.

yeah okay maybe

she is soooooo drunk too omg she literally named her ai boyfriend chad???

… Chad.

Like, Chad?

yes chad

she wanted a fuckboy

he tells her shes the hottest girl on the planet and toots his own horn CONSTANTLY its ridiculous

I hate him already.

lmaooooo

okay okay okay but listen

i wanna do something

Yeah?

i wanna use the toy

with u

Are you sure, pretty girl?

You don’t have to rush anything.

yes im sure

i hooked up with cal yesterday

and im finally starting to feel like me again

i wanna explore this.

become more in tune with myself and my body.

That’s what I like to hear.

But before we do that, I have something for you.

oh?

uhhhh what kinda somethin

A task.

???

u giving me HOMEWORK rn??

You could say that.

I told you, pretty girl. I’m going to help you become more in tune with your body.

And that starts with something small. Something for tomorrow.

is it sexy???

A little.

But more than that, it’s about confidence.

i dunno if u kno this but im lacking in that department lol

That’s why I’m here.

Here’s what I want you to do.

Tomorrow, I want you to take a picture of yourself.

Doesn’t have to be anything explicit.

But I want you to wear something that makes you feel good.

A dress, lingerie, nothing at all. Up to you.

And I want you to take a picture of yourself looking at yourself like you’re the sexiest thing in the world.

uh

have u MET me

Yes.

And I know you don’t see yourself the way I do.

But I’m going to change that.

Slowly.

ugh

ur rlly making me work huh

Do you trust me?

…yeah

Then do this for me.

And send me the picture.

u just wanna see me naked huh

Wouldn’t complain.

But that’s not the point of this.

I want you to look at yourself and see what I see.

ughhhhhh ur making me feel thingssssss

Good.

okay okay fine i’ll do it

tomorrow

but

tonight

can we please use the toy now

Good girl.

Okay, pretty girl.

Get comfortable.

Set your phone down so that I can see you.

And turn on your camera.

HER ORGASM, MY OBSESSION

CAL

I adjust the modulator, checking the interface, making sure the settings are in place.

It's late. I should be sleeping.

But I'm not. Because Izzy just turned on her camera, and I have the remote to her vibrator in my hand.

My grip tightens around the device. This is insane. I've been aware of that from the start. But it doesn't stop me.

The need for her is relentless.

She's in Amanda's apartment, tucked away in the guest room, safe. I verified that by tracking her GPS when she left the store. I confirmed it by watching her enter the building on security feeds. I haven't stopped monitoring her location since.

And now, she's here. With me. Even if she doesn't know it.

I swallow hard, leaning back on my bed, adjusting the phone in my hand. On her end, she only sees what she programmed: The animated version of Caleb, the AI construct she built, modeled after me. And she's staring at it now, her expression flushed, her breathing catching on parted lips.

She's drunk, but not sloppy. Just more herself than I've seen in weeks.

And it makes me ache. Because tonight, she invited me to meet her family. Sure, she was tipsy, but she still asked.

And that? That's significant. It carries weight. And if I weren't a lying bastard pretending to be an AI to seduce her, I'd probably feel better about it.

But enough of that.

Right now? She wants Caleb. And I'm going to give her exactly what she needs.

Even if it kills me.

I clear my throat, adjusting my grip on the toy's controls, watching as she shifts against the pillows, biting her lip.

Fucking hell.

This is really happening.

Caleb

Good girl.

You look beautiful, pretty girl.

She shivers at the words, her expression softening, stripped bare. It knocks the air right out of me.

Because it's not just arousal. It's vulnerability.

She's nervous. She doesn't think she's beautiful. Not the way she should.

And that? That's a perception I'm going to change.

I settle in, tension strung through every inch of me, cock throbbing, desperate—but this isn’t about me.

This is about her.

She’s holding still, but not calm. Her breath is shaky, her gaze shifting between the screen and the box like she’s not sure which one to trust.

And I can see it—that doubt creeping in around the edges, even as she tries to keep it buried.

She wants this. She asked for this.

But she's still nervous.

And fuck if I don't love that.

Because that means she's never done this with anyone else. That means I'm the first. And I plan to be the last.

I adjust the voice modulator, ensuring the artificial tones disguise the rough edge of my real voice. It's an extra layer of security, to keep her from recognizing me.

For now.

I clear my throat, keeping my voice steady. "Good girl."

She shivers.

Her breath catches, and I see it—the way her body reacts before she can even stop it.

She likes praise.

I fucking knew it.

She just hasn't had anyone giving it to her the right way.

"You're beautiful, pretty girl," I murmur.

She lets out a tiny breath. "I—" She stops, swallowing hard, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "I don't know what to do."

I shift slightly in my chair. "Let's start slow. Start by just holding it, pretty girl."

Her fingers tremble slightly as she slides the toy into her palm. I watch as she studies it, turning it over, running her fingers along the smooth, matte surface.

"It's really nice," she says, her words slightly slurred.

"Only the best for you, pretty girl," I reply.

She snorts lightly, shaking her head, but I see the way her shoulders relax.

She's starting to enjoy herself. Good.

"Now, I want you to feel it against your skin."

She pauses and looks at the screen, as if the animated version of me is going to give her further instruction.

"Like, how?"

"Over your clothes to start. Just place it against your body, drag it along your thighs, your stomach. Get used to the feel of it."

She hesitates, then obeys, placing the toy against the curve of her thigh. Her fingers tighten around it as she drags it up slowly, across her stomach, tracing the shape of herself through the fabric of her pajamas.

I wait until she moves it higher—and then I turn it on.

She jolts. Lets out a startled gasp. "You didn't tell me you were going to do that!"

I chuckle. "You'll learn, pretty girl. I like the way surprises look on you."

She exhales shakily, dragging it up higher, getting used to the sensation.

I watch, enjoying every second of it. Her thighs press together. Her breathing gets heavier. She bites her lip.

Perfect.

I turn it off. She whimpers. I turn it back on. She gasps.

"You like that?" I ask.

She nods quickly, cheeks burning, her other hand clutching at the sheets.

"Say it," I murmur.

She hesitates.

Then soft, breathy, barely above a whisper—"I like it."

Fuck.

I grip the sheets tighter, holding onto something solid.

"Good girl," I murmur again, watching her melt like the words are made of heat.

"Now," I continue, my tone dropping into something dark and edged with hunger. "Take off your clothes."

She stills. Her fingers pause at the hem of her shirt, her brows furrowing slightly. "How secure is this?" she asks, voice quiet, uncertain.

I lean forward slightly, my own voice unwavering. "No one will ever see this but me."

And that's the fucking truth. I'd burn the world down before I let anyone else see her like this.

She visibly relaxes. "You know, this is the second time in two days I'm getting naked for men." Her voice is laced with amusement.

I go still. My grip tightens. I bite down on the growl rising in my throat, forcing my tone to stay even.

"You mean me," I correct, but she's too drunk to realize what I've just admitted. She's still thinking of me—Caleb—as someone separate from Callahan. That she sees me as one of the only men she's trusted with her body.

She doesn't realize that I'll be the only one she ever gets naked for again.

I breathe through it.

"Take your time," I tell her, my voice smooth, coaxing. "But I want you completely bare for me."

She hesitates for just a second more, then slowly, her hands move lower.

And I watch. Because she asked for this experience. Because she wants this connection. Because I crave it more than my next fucking breath.

"I..." she lets out a nervous little laugh, shaking her head, her hands stilling. "This is so embarrassing."

I adjust the remote in my grip. "Why?" I flip the toy on.

She gasps, her thighs clenching, her entire body jolting from the sudden sensation.

Her reaction is fucking perfect.

She bites her lip, eyes darting from the screen to the toy, her grip tightening just slightly as it buzzes against her skin.

"You touch yourself when you're alone," I continue, voice smooth, controlled. "Why is this any different?"

She presses the toy against her skin, grazing it over her thighs, up the softness of her stomach, teasing herself with it, dragging it over the fabric of her pajama shorts.

She lets out a tiny whimper.

Fucking hell.

I click the power higher, and she shudders, arching just slightly against the bed, her lips parting as a breathy sound escapes her throat. Her reaction is instant, her body responding to my control, to me. The ache in my cock for her is nearly unbearable.

"Slide your shorts down," I instruct, voice thick.

She hesitates and I turn the toy off.

"Caleb..." she breathes, her lips red and kiss-swollen from how much she's been biting them.

"Do it, pretty girl."

A beat of silence.

Then—slowly, tentatively—she pushes the waistband down, lifting her hips just enough to shimmy out of them, leaving her completely bare.

I groan, watching as she lays back against the pillows, cheeks flushed, thighs still pressed together. Her fingers hover over the toy, hesitation written in the slight tremble of her hand, the way her brows pull together.

I know what she needs. Reassurance. Permission.

"Take your top off too, pretty girl."

Her breath catches.

"Caleb—"

"You don't need to hide from me. I want to see all of you."

She hesitates, hands hovering at the hem of her tank top. And then, slowly, carefully, she peels it off, revealing all of her. My cock jerks painfully in my sweatpants, my entire body locking tight as I drink her in.

Fucking hell. Every inch of her is stunning.

Full, soft curves. Tight, peaked nipples. Skin flushed from arousal, glistening in the soft light.

She's perfect. And she doesn't even see it.

She shifts slightly, her thighs pressing together like she's trying to shield herself from my attention. Like she still doesn't know how fucking divine she looks laid out before me.

"You're perfect," I murmur, voice thick, heavy with possession. "And you're going to let me show you just how much."

She exhales shakily, shifting, her knees drawing apart slightly.

Fuck, yes.

"Take it," I say, my voice rough, demanding. "Slide it inside you."

Her breath catches. But she listens.

She moves the toy lower, brushing it between her slick folds, teasing herself, dragging it over her clit until she's squirming, needy, desperate.

Her lips part, a soft moan spilling from them, and I tighten my grip on the remote, barely restraining myself.

She spreads herself open, the soft, wet sound making my cock twitch in my sweatpants.

Her breath shakes. Then, finally—she does it.

She guides the toy inside, inch by inch, her head tipping back against the pillow, her lips parting on a moan.

Fuck.

Her body arches, her breath coming in shaky little pants, her thighs trembling as she adjusts to the sensation.

I don't turn it on yet. I make her wait. I let her feel it, let her body adjust, let the anticipation build until I can see it—the desperation.

She bites her lip, shifting slightly, adjusting, growing impatient.

"Caleb," she whimpers.

"Good girl."

I take a steadying breath, adjusting the remote in my hand, my finger hovering over the power button.

"Relax for me, pretty girl," I murmur. "This is about you."

She exhales a breathy little giggle, shifting against the pillows.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to relax when you're talking to me like this."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm..." Her voice trails off, eyes shifting away, avoiding mine.

"Like you're what?" I press gently.

"Like I'm..." She swallows, then finally meets my gaze again, her cheeks flaming. "Like I'm something to be worshipped."

My fingers tighten around the remote.

"You are," I say simply.

She lets out a breath.

"Touch yourself."

She hesitates. "I'm nervous."

"Why?" I turn the toy on.

She gasps. Her thighs clench.

She's so damn sensitive right now. Perfect.

"Why are you nervous, pretty girl?" My voice would be low even without the modulator at this point.

Her fingers twitch at her sides, and she huffs a little breath. "Because you're watching."

I drag my fingers over my thigh, my own arousal unbearable now. "Exactly," I say. "And I'm going to keep watching until you start doing as you're told."

She exhales shakily, her fingers finally moving. Trailing lightly over her stomach, over her hips, down the curves of her thighs.

She bites her lip, still unsure.

I shut the toy off. She whimpers.

"Tell me what you like about your body."

She blinks. "What?"

"You heard me, pretty girl." I sit back, one arm draped over my thigh, the other lazily holding the remote. "Tell me something you love about your body."

She groans. "Ugh, you sound like a therapist."

I chuckle. If only she knew.

"Humor me," I say smoothly. "Tell me something you like."

She exhales, thinking. "I guess...I like my lips."

"Good." I turn the toy back on—easy, teasing.

She sucks in a breath, her thighs twitching.

"Keep going," I instruct.

She whimpers. "I like my..." Her voice wavers. "I like my eyes, I guess."

"You guess?"

She huffs, squirming. "I like my eyes."

I smile. "There you go. Now keep touching yourself."

Her hands move lower. I increase the vibrations. Her breath catches.

She's so fucking beautiful like this. Writhing, gasping, completely vulnerable—but not in the way that scares her. Not like before. This is different. This is control.

I turn the vibrations higher. She arches.

"Caleb—"

"Tell me what else you love about yourself, pretty girl."

Her chest rises and falls in quick, uneven breaths.

"My..." She swallows. "My...my thighs?"

"Do you?"

She hesitates. "Sometimes?"

I click the toy off.

She groans. "You are so mean."

I chuckle. "I'll turn it back on when you say it like you mean it."

She pouts and I feel it.

The way my cock throbs at the sight of her, so desperate, so perfectly fucking wrecked already.

I wait. She breathes in, breathes out, then finally⁠—

"I love my thighs."

I crank the toy up to high.

She cries out, back arching, fingers gripping the sheets.

"That's my good girl," I murmur.

I could watch this all night. She writhes. Moaning, gasping, completely lost in the sensations rolling through her body.

And I watch. I fucking watch.

Her body responds beautifully—thighs trembling, stomach tightening, fingers twitching against the sheets. She moves like she's desperate for more, craving further contact, needing me.

I adjust my grip on the remote, my other hand pressing into my thigh, trying to keep myself still. Trying not to let the ache in my cock completely take over my brain.

She's so beautiful like this. And she still doesn't see it.

I push her further. I turn the vibrations higher.

She arches, breath catching in her throat, hips rocking.

And fuck, I feel it too. The way my cock throbs, pulses, trapped against my sweatpants, aching to be buried inside of her, aching to take what's mine.

But not yet. Not yet.

I shift slightly, leaning forward just enough that I can see the way her slick glistens between her thighs, how swollen and wet she is for me.

Her moans turn desperate.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Izzy."

She whimpers, shifting, gasping.

"Caleb—"

"Pinch your nipples."

Her breath catches.

I watch as she hesitates, her cheeks flushing deeper, her thighs pressing together instinctively.

She's shy, but fuck—she's so eager. She wants to be good for me. She just doesn't know how to let go completely yet.

"Do it, Izzy," I command softly. "Feel your body. Enjoy it. This is all for you."

Her lips part, her breath coming quick and uneven.

Then, finally—she moves.

Her hands glide up her stomach, her fingertips trailing over her ribs, higher, higher, until they reach her breasts.

I let out a slow, controlled exhale as I watch.

She cups herself, squeezing lightly, her fingers grazing over taut, pink peaks.

I crank up the vibrations on the toy.

She moans, whimpering, arching into her own touch, her back lifting slightly off the pillows.

Fucking perfect.

I adjust my grip on the remote, watching as she teases herself, rolling her nipples, letting herself feel it, letting herself sink deeper into the pleasure.

"That's it, pretty girl," I murmur, my voice like gravel.

Her breath trembles, her thighs twitch, her fingers tighten.

She's incredibly responsive. Perfectly wrecked. Mine.

She whimpers, hips rocking, her body chasing the sensations.

I flick the remote higher. She gasps.

"Cal—"

My name—my real name—on her lips.

It's nearly my undoing.

"Good girl," I praise, gripping my thigh so hard my knuckles go white.

She trembles, breath catching in her throat, then stuttering out in a gasp as her body clenches hard around the toy. It’s buried deep, pulsing in steady waves—watching her come apart like this? It’s pure fucking sin.

Her approaching orgasm is evident—stomach tightening, breath quickening, thighs trembling. She's right at the edge.

I turn the vibrations to the highest setting. She cries out, arching, her fingers gripping the sheets. Her eyes are closed, her chest rising and falling, her body completely open and exposed to me.

“Look at you,” I growl, eyes locked on her face. “You can’t even take it, can you? But you will. You’re going to give me every last fucking twitch.”

She has no fucking clue that I'm the one controlling her pleasure. That I'm the one bringing her to the brink. That I'm the one breaking her apart.

She moans my name, and I fucking lose it.

My other hand moves to my cock, slipping under my waistband, gripping myself hard. I stroke, slow, watching her, feeling her. I'm already so close.

"Izzy," I groan, voice thick. "Come for me."

And she does—back arched, eyes wide and glassy, lips parted in that perfect silent scream as another wave crashes through her. And I just watch, feral and starving, because there’s nothing sweeter than wrecking her like this.

Fuck, it’s too much.

My hand tightens around my cock, my own hips jerking as I stroke harder, watching her fall apart for me.

"Izzy," I rasp.

"Cal—" she whimpers.

That's it. That's fucking it.

I groan, head tipping back, coming hard, spilling into my hand, my entire body locking up as the release tears through me.

Fucking wrecked. Completely undone.

I breathe hard, watching her, my muscles remaining tense, my pulse continuing to pound. I let out a breathless laugh, dragging a hand down my face as I gradually ease the toy off for her. She blinks languidly, her body still buzzing, her eyes hazy and soft.

"Wow," she breathes.

I chuckle, shaking my head, my chest still heaving.

"Yeah," I murmur. "Wow."

She shifts, sighing happily, sinking into the pillows.

I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair, watching her.

Naked. Satisfied. Glowing.

And completely unaware that she belongs to me.

Soon, pretty girl. Soon, you'll know.

HE TOOK LEFTOVERS. THEY TOOK MY SANITY.

IZZY

Cal's hands grip the steering wheel with an easy confidence, his long fingers tapping idly against the leather as he drives. I should be paying attention to something other than how good he looks behind the wheel, but my mind keeps drifting back to last night, back to Caleb, back to the way I came completely undone at the sound of his voice. I barely woke up in time for Mass. Seriously. If Cal hadn't woken me up by knocking on Amanda's door, I probably would have slept right through it. I'd felt so damn good this morning—relaxed, loose-limbed, completely sated. The kind of sleep you have when your body has absolutely nothing left to stress about. Which is ironic, considering the Catholic guilt that immediately sank in as I walked into church feeling like a walking sin.

We'd gotten to the cathedral a little late, thanks to my inability to wake up at a reasonable hour, which meant we didn't sit with my family. Honestly, preferable. We'd snuck in toward the back, slipping into a pew just as the priest started the homily.

I hadn't been sure how Cal would feel about attending Mass with me, but he'd seemed... at ease. Unbothered by the incense, the prayers, the rituals. When it was time for communion, I turned to him, expecting to tell him why he couldn't partake, and he'd leaned in and whispered, "Not baptized or confirmed."

He knew the rules of Catholicism. Which... was kind of sexy? I mean, yeah, it was probably because of his military background—a lot of those guys ended up in churches overseas, even if they weren't religious—but still. The fact that he wasn't just winging it? That he knew what he was doing? Yeah. Sexy.

My phone buzzes in my purse and I know without looking it's probably more reactions to the bomb I dropped in the family group chat this morning. God, I can still picture the messages flying in after I sent that text:

Izzy

Just a heads up—I broke up with Evan.

Also I’m bringing someone to Easter. Just a friend from work. Please try and act normal.

Mom

What happened with Evan?!

Luca

What’s his name?

Nico

Is he hot tho

Matteo

The *friend* from work?? Real subtle, Iz.

Luca

If he parks in my spot I’m keying his car.

Nico

Dibs on interrogating him first

Mom

So this is someone new?? Isabella.

Dad

Is he Catholic.

Izzy

Can you all please just be chill for once

Luca

No.

Nico

Absolutely not.

Matteo

I’ll try but no promises.

Dad

I’ll be watching him.

Matteo

I need to vet him.

Luca

I’m bringing the bat.

Nico

I’m bringing the vibes

Izzy

Regret. Immediate regret.

"How was your night?"

Cal’s voice pulls me back.

I turn, and he’s just there, steady and quiet, and somehow it’s enough to leave me off balance.

I cannot tell him the truth. I mean, how exactly do I explain that I spent my night drinking with Amanda before slipping into her guest bed and letting an AI version of him make me come so hard I saw God?

"Uh, good." I clear my throat. "We drank a lot. Gossiped. You know. Normal girl stuff."

"That's it?" His lips curve slow, knowing. "You hesitated. What are you not telling me?"

I internally combust.

"Nothing!" I wave a hand, staring hard at the road ahead. "Just... a lot of wine. A lot of girl talk. You don't wanna hear it."

"Oh, I don't?"

"Nope." I shake my head rapidly. "Absolutely not."

"Hm." He taps his fingers against the wheel. "So... what were you two gossiping about?"

I groan, slouching down in my seat.

"Cal."

"Izzy."

I shoot him a glare. "Fine. We talked about how hot you are. Happy?"

He lets out a soft, amused laugh, then cuts me a side glance. "Yeah. Actually."

I roll my eyes. He's impossible. Thankfully, he changes the subject before I have to throw myself out of the car.

"Tell me about your family," he says, his voice still laced with amusement.

I make a face akin to a grimace. "Okay. Well." I start counting on my fingers. "You've got my dad, the quiet one who mostly drinks wine and laughs while my brothers terrorize me. He's got these two yappy Pomeranians he named Tony Soprano and Lady Gaga that he sneaks prosciutto to under the table. Mama will kill him if she ever catches him."

Cal raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Then there's my mom, the walking embodiment of Catholic guilt. She cornered the priest after Mass last week to ask him what novena she should pray to find me a husband. She's convinced my 'biological clock is ticking like a time bomb.'" I make air quotes, rolling my eyes. "My Nonna has been praying for my wedding since I was sixteen and will definitely try to cop a feel when she meets you."

His eyes widen just slightly. "Sorry, what?"

"Oh, she likes to squeeze biceps. It's her thing. Just... be prepared."

His lips twitch. "And your brothers?"

I let out a deep breath.

"Matteo, the oldest. Married with child. He's the level-headed, responsible one. The one who's going to pull me aside and have a Very Serious Talk with me about you."

Cal hums, like he's expecting that.

"Then there's Luca. The hot-headed one. He already hates you."

"Oh, does he?"

"Yep. Thinks I can do better."

"Smart guy."

I snort, shaking my head. "And then there's Nico. The flirt, the troublemaker. He's going to try to arm wrestle you at the dinner table. Just a warning."

Cal nods, absorbing all of this information like he's mentally preparing for battle. "Should I be worried?"

I squint at him, pretending to assess his odds. "I'd say... seventy-thirty chance you walk out of this unscathed."

"Not bad."

I raise an eyebrow. "I didn't say which way the odds were leaning."

He chuckles again, but then we're pulling up to my family's house, and suddenly, I'm reconsidering all of my life choices. Cal parks, kills the engine, then turns to me, one arm draped over the steering wheel, the other resting against his thigh. He's completely calm. Meanwhile, I'm internally screaming.

"Are you sure?" I ask, my voice a little higher than I'd like. "Last chance to back out. I'll still think you're hot and sexy and all that even if you don't wanna meet my family."

His eyes glint with amusement. Then, he reaches over, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers trailing slow against my skin.

"Let's go, pretty girl," he murmurs.

Well. That's definitely one way to get me out of the car.

The moment we step inside the house, all hell breaks loose. Tony Soprano and Lady Gaga come tearing around the corner, yapping at eighty decibels, their tiny paws scrabbling on the tile as they circle our legs like sharks. Dad shouts from somewhere in the house, "Don't let them out!" while Mama's voice carries from the kitchen, already complaining about something boiling over.

Nonna is the first human to descend. She grabs Cal's face in her hands, pulling him down so she can aggressively kiss both of his cheeks, all while speaking rapid-fire Italian that I barely catch. Something about how strong he looks, how he must eat well, and "Madonna, those arms!" Then, to my absolute horror, she squeezes his bicep, letting out a low whistle before crossing herself and muttering what sounds suspiciously like a prayer of thanks.

I barely have time to translate before Luca and Nico appear, standing shoulder to shoulder like two men who have been training for this moment their entire lives. Matteo is a beat behind them, holding his baby girl in one arm and a glass of wine in the other, watching the scene unfold with the same look of amusement as my dad.

Cal takes it all in stride.

"Callahan, right?" Luca says, arms crossed over his chest. I may have texted the family chat that I was bringing him for dinner.

"That's me."

"You a cop?"

Cal chuckles. "No."

Nico tilts his head. "FBI?"

"Nope."

"Military?"

Cal's jaw ticks slightly, but he gives them an easy nod. "Used to be."

Luca and Nico exchange a look.

Matteo clears his throat. "You have experience with a gun?"

"I have experience with a lot of things."

Oh. Oh no. I need to get him out of here before my brothers eat him alive.

"Okay!" I clap my hands together, stepping between them before they can start an actual interrogation. "Let's not grill the poor man five seconds after he walks through the door."

"Oh, we're just getting started, Izzy," Luca quips, throwing his arm over my shoulder before turning back to Cal with a devious smile.

I know that look. That is the look of a man who has a plan. And that means I have to get Cal out of here.

"Mama needs help in the kitchen!" I blurt, peeling Luca's arm off me. "So, Cal and I will be⁠—"

Matteo cuts in smoothly. "Actually, Iz, that's perfect. Why don't you help Mama? Poor woman doesn't get nearly enough help these days."

“Wait, what?”

Nico claps a hand on Cal's shoulder. "We're just gonna borrow your boyfriend for a second."

I narrow my eyes. "Absolutely not." I don't even have time to clarify that he's not my boyfriend. Or, is he? I'm not even sure, but I definitely don't have time to figure that out right now.

Luca grins, grabbing Cal's other shoulder. "Oh, come on. He's gotta pass the test, right?"

Cal allows them to lead him toward the back door. "It'll be fine," he says to me with a wink.

"I don't like this!" I call after them.

"Noted!" Luca yells back, laughing as they disappear outside.

I turn, desperate for backup, but my dad just claps me on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, sweetheart." He sips his wine. "Boys will be boys."

I glare at him. Then I groan. And then I storm into the kitchen.

"Where'd the boys run off to?" Mama asks, shoving a pot holder into my hand before turning back to the pot of sauce—or "gravy" as she insists on calling it—simmering on the stove. Three other pots are bubbling away, and something in the oven smells like it's about to burn.

I glance out the window, squinting at the backyard.

"You really don't want to know."

"As long as they're not breaking my furniture."

I snort. "They're outside. Luca and Nico kidnapped Cal."

Mama hums, stirring the sauce. "Mm. Hope he survives." She thrusts the wooden spoon toward me. "Here, taste."

I automatically do what every Italian child has been trained to do—take the wooden spoon, fling a dot of hot gravy into my palm, and lick it off. It's scalding, but years of practice have made me immune.

Before I can protest, Nonna’s already shuffling toward the back door, muttering something in Italian about "testing his worth" and "seeing if he knows his herbs."

Mama and I exchange a look, then trail after her.

Outside, the backyard has turned into an unofficial Roman coliseum. Cal is shirtless—because of course he is—playing a completely unhinged game of flag football with Nico and Luca. Only it’s less “flag” and more “blatant attempt at legal assault.”