"No." I whispered sharply."Are you going to make me come to you?" Her voice a soft purr."No." I drawled. "You have a story I want to hear." And what d... I get in return?" My real name."She lurched upright, almost spilling wine. Her mouth formed a faux "O" of surprise."Tell me now." The wary look flashed again."Randolph Fabio O'Toole-Barone," I said, voicing the e at the end of Barone. "My mother was Irish. My father's family are Sicilian." Oh, God. Windsong and firestorm in the same man. What do. . these burgers had ONIONS on them.And he did not ask for onions. Ketchup and mustard, that’s all these burgers need!“MOM!!” he shouted again, his fuzzy ears flattened in annoyance, his cat’s tail jerking back and forth against the wall with impatience. Thump. Thump. Thump.“I’m coming dear, I’m coming!” his mom answered, her heavy breaths as she climbed up the stairs to her son’s room to the 3rd floor. It’s certainly a long trip from the kitchen on the ground floor, his mother always in a rush. More

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