Alessia Mancini
Giovanni's hand slid from my back to my waist, pulling me closer. The scent of his cologne - sandalwood and something distinctly masculine - enveloped me, momentarily drowning out the acrid smell of diesel and cigarette smoke that hung in the air around the warehouse.
"Are you done for now?" he asked, his voice low and rumbling against my ear.
I nodded, acutely aware of the warmth of his body against mine. "The only other thing on my list is Vitale."
Giovanni's grip on my waist tightened almost imperceptibly. I could feel the tension radiating from him at the mention of Vitale's name. His voice, when he spoke, was smooth as silk but edged with steel.
"So let's head home, have some lunch," he said, his eyes scanning the warehouse perimeter as if searching for unseen thr
