Ruined Secrets (Perfectly Imperfect #4)

“There were some problems he had to deal with, so he left early. He was in a really strange mood, though,” Damian says, looking at me over the rim of his cup.

“Oh? How so?”

“Cranky. Snapping at the staff. He rarely does that. I wonder what could have riled him up.”

“He’s in a stressful line of work.” I shrug, a picture of innocence.

“Yeah, it must be that,” he says casually, but I see the way he’s looking at me with a tiny smile on his lips.

“I’ll need a driver,” I say. “My grandfather’s not feeling well. I want to drop by and check on him.”

“Sure. But we’ll have to wait for Luca to come back to see who he’ll assign as your security detail.”

“I won’t need a bodyguard today. I’ll be going straight to the don’s house and back, I don’t plan on stopping anywhere else or leaving the car along the way.”

“Luca won’t like it if you leave the grounds without one, Isabella.”

“Dad always has to have the last word, Isa,” Rosa throws in, laughing.

Good to know.

A maid brings in a huge basket of freshly baked pastries and places it in the middle of the table. Rosa jumps up, grabbing two croissants, but before placing them on her plate throws a sideways look at me.

“Is something wrong, Rosa?” I ask and reach to take some pastries for myself.

“I’m really hungry,” she mumbles.

“Then you should eat those before they get cold.” I nod at the croissants she’s still holding.

“Both?”

“You said you’re hungry.”

“But I’ll get fat.”

My head snaps up. “Oh, sweetie, you won’t get fat. Where did you get that idea from?”

Rosa bends her head and shrugs. “Simona told me I need to watch how much I eat because of my meta . . . hm, metalism.”

Jesus Christ. Something is seriously wrong with that woman. I place my palms on the table and lean toward Rosa. Damian keeps observing the situation without commenting, as if he’s waiting to see what I’ll do.

“You mean metabolism, sweetie. You’re a child. Kids need to eat a good breakfast because they’re still growing.” I reach out and, taking the croissants from her hands, lower them onto her plate. “You don’t have to worry about your metabolism for at least a decade. Okay?”

A small smile pulls at Rosa’s lips, and the next second she digs into her breakfast. When I lean back in my chair, I notice Luca’s brother watching me and I raise an eyebrow at him. Damian smirks and gets back to his coffee.

I walk inside the warehouse where my men are unloading the rest of the crates that came last night. Donato is following a few paces behind me. Bogdan and two more of his guys are standing next to the truck, arguing.

“What happened with my shipment?” I nod toward the crates left on the truck.

“Gavril swapped the model numbers on some containers,” Bogdan says and turns to face the tall guy on his right. “I told you to check everything twice!”

“How many crates?” I ask.

“Twelve. I’ll have the correct ammunition in two weeks. Three, in the worst-case scenario.”

I look back at Donato. “When did we promise to deliver those?”

“On Monday.”