Chapter 8
Chloe
Chapter Eight
God…
What the hell is up with my luck?
Shivers erupt across my skin, as if I’m standing outside in the cold, when I spot Cillian O’Ridian sitting in the back of the restaurant.
He sees me, too, and a thin smile spreads across his handsome face. We’re about twenty feet apart but I can see the spark in his bright blue gaze.
He’s here to see me.
But why?
The tension in my nerves makes my heart pound faster and my thoughts race, each one tripping over the one before it.
Please, God, don’t tell me he changed his mind.
Maybe he came to his senses and realized that he was being too generous, and he decided he wants his money now.
What else would bring him into my sphere of existence again?
And does he always have to look so good? Every time I’ve seen him he’s looked GQ gorgeous.
Tonight he’s wearing more casual clothing than last time. I would almost mistake him for a normal mundane person in his long-sleeved T-shirt and Levi’s. Not the billionaire mafia guy who owns his own bank and who knows what else.
Summoning strength and confidence I don’t feel, I make my way over to him.
But I’m tired. I’m mentally and physically tired.
The news from yesterday took it out of me, and when I left the bank today I didn’t exactly feel like the hills were alive with The Sound of Music positive.
Whatever this is had better not be something else to knock me down. I’ve only just started digging myself out of my grave.
Cillian’s eyes are riveted to me and he has that same look of curiosity wrapped in desire I noticed the other day.
I run through all the possible things I could say to him but my mind slows when I reach him.
He straightens, drawing attention to his military-man muscular shoulders. Then he levels me a curious stare and gives me a sexy half-smile that would make most women see no problem in losing their dignity.
“Hi, there.” My voice is breathy in a sultry way but it’s from a combo of curiosity, surprise and—yes, attraction.
“Hello, Miss Ricci.”
“Chloe. Call me Chloe.” I borrow his tactic to get me to call him by his first name. “Miss Ricci sounds like my mother. Or rather, how she was known when I used to live here.”
“Alright, Chloe.”
“I wouldn’t have thought that someone like you would be dining at Ricci’s Ristorante.” I’m so desperate to find out why he’s here I fear I might combust.
His smile brightens. “Didn’t you tell me this place was the best in the city?”
“I did.”
“So I came to see what all the fuss was about.”
That can’t be all he came for. “That’s it? You’re here to try the food, not to grill me about Harlan, or something else?” I don’t even want to mention the money.
“I’m not here to grill you about anything. And while I can definitely assure you that there are other things I’d like to try than the food, I’ll start with that.” From the sexy tone of his voice there is no mistake that he’s implying something sexual. Something sexual to do with me.
That familiar heat swirls low in my belly again, but instead of settling like last time, it spreads over me.
“Okay. Have you seen anything on the menu that you’d like to try?”
“The bruschetta, but I want you to join me.” The light of interest dances in his eyes and I realize I was right in my former assumptions.
“I… would really love to join you, but we’re kind of short staffed and it’s busy.”
“Ten minutes.”
I contemplate the idea of this. It doesn’t feel good. Anyone with eyes would be attracted to this man but I’m wary of who he is and our relationship with him.
We owe him. A lot.
And I guess that’s one reason I should say yes.
“Okay. Ten minutes. I’ll go place your order.”
“Sure.”
I turn back and find Roxanne behind the counter watching me with the attention of a hawk. The expression on her face is fascinated and terrified in equal parts.
I walk toward her and she meets me halfway.
“What does he want?” She keeps her voice low.
“Bruschetta…with me.”
Her eyes pop wide and a mischievous smile dances on her lips, making her look more like the Roxanne I’m used to. “Oh, I see.”
“It’s just for ten minutes.”
“Uh huh. And the next thing you know you’ll be in?—"
“Roxanne, please, just go get the bruschetta.”
“Fine. Go back to him. Don’t keep the man waiting.”
I roll my eyes at her and turn around to head back to Cillian, who stares at me as I slip into the seat, opposite him.
“The food will be here soon.”
“I look forward to it. How’s your mother?”
Despite the circumstances, it’s nice of him to ask about her. “She’s the same.”
“Sorry to hear that. An uncle of mine pulled out of a coma after almost a year, and he's fine now. Actually one of the healthiest people I know.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You would never think that he was even sick if you saw him. He lives in Ireland now and swears by his daily potion of Irish moss and Guinness.”
I bite back a smile. “That’s a new one.”
“Yeah, he’s the eccentric one in the family.”
“Are most of your family in Ireland?”
“Yes.”
“And you obviously lived there for a long time.” His accent is light but at the same time too distinct for me to be wrong.
“I did. I’m still there a lot.”
Roxanne walks over to us with two plates of bruschetta, then she cuts me that cunning look again when she sets them down.
“Let me know if you’d like anything more,” she says.
“Thank you.” Cillian dips his head.
Roxanne saunters away but I notice her glancing back at us over her shoulder.
“What about you, Chloe? What more is there to know about you?”
I shuffle against my seat. “Apart from ballet I’m really not all that interesting.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Okay, ask me specific questions. What did you want to know about me?”
“What are you going to do now if you aren’t dancing? Don’t tell me you’re going to work here.”
“Not forever.” At one point in my life I was terrified of spending the rest of my days waiting tables here. But now I’d gladly work here for a hundred years if it could fix all the problems. “I want to open my own dance school, but that won’t be for a long while. Until then I’m going to see if I can get a teaching job.”
“Sounds good.”
I nibble on my bruschetta and he does, too. The delicious taste of herbs and tomato awakens my taste buds, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since breakfast.
“Wow, you weren’t kidding. This is perhaps the best bruschetta I’ve ever tasted.” Cillian nods.
“Thanks. Everything available here is from my great-great-grandmother’s recipe. People still talk about her in Italy.”
“It’s very good. When was the last time you went to Italy?”
“Too long. In my first year of college we took my father back there for his final journey. He wanted to die there.”
“Sorry about your father.” He sets his food down and I notice the way his eyes soften as he stares at me.
“Thank you. I guess that was a few years back.” Although it still feels like yesterday to me that my father took his last breath and broke my heart.
“My father isn’t around either. Or my mother.”
“I’m sorry for you, too.”
He dips his head in appreciation. “Eat, lass. While I think of something less morbid to ask you.”
“It’s okay. I just happen to have a morbid life.”
“Well, I guess that’s one thing we have in common.”
Staring at him, I pick up the last piece of bruschetta and eat it.
His eyes drop to my lips and he watches me eat.
It’s strange. Like this, he really does seem like a regular guy. But the fact that I know he’s not is setting off the warning bells in my head.
Cillian O’Ridian is dangerous. Worse than Nathan dangerous. He just knows how to handle himself.
Our first meeting was him invading my mother’s home with an army of men.
I should be fleeing like the fires of hell are up my ass, not sitting here eating with him.
“Apart from Italian, what food do you like?”
“Thai and French, but I’m not really fussy.”
“Good, that gives me an idea of where I should take you to dinner on Saturday.”
My brows shoot up and my scalp tightens. Did he seriously just say what I think he said?
The mischievous look in his eyes tells me I heard him right.
Dinner?
He wants to take me to dinner?
“Um. Dinner?” The mere one-word question sounds incredulous outside my head.
“Dinner.” He speaks in a definitive tone, spreading his arms across the back of the seat as if to show his dominance.
Think fast, Chloe. This can’t happen. It can’t. No matter how gorgeous he is. “That might not be such a good idea.”
“Why not?” His jaw clenches and his eyes narrow to questioning slits.
“Because you can’t take me to dinner.”
“That’s not an answer. If I wanted to take you to dinner I’d simply throw you over me shoulder and we’d be on our way.” His Irish accent sounds more distinct—and sexier—when he’s being firm. And suddenly I can’t get the image of him picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder caveman-style out of my head.
“Are you always like this?”
“Only when someone catches my interest.”
“And what would the head of the Irish mafia find interesting about me?”
“Everything.” A sinful smile floats over his lips, as if he’s thinking about what my everything means.
The simple word clings to the air around us, warming my skin again. This guy could make me forget everything. But logic and reasoning kick in, pulling me back to the land of common sense. “It would be weird for me to go to dinner with you. And I’m not really doing that—dinners with… other people.” After Nathan I don’t know if I could date anyone ever again.
Cillian leans forward, resting one elbow on the table. “We should see about that.”
My lips part. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like him. He’s literally not taking no for an answer and a small, traitorous part of me likes that. The part of me that would love to feel alive again.
I feel guilty for that feeling while Mom is so sick and I’m sitting in a sinking ship.
The door opens and a host of people walk in. There are at least twenty of them. Groups like that usually arrive after a show. We’re not that far from Broadway.
“I guess that’s my cue to leave.” Cillian stands and places two hundred dollars on the table by his plate.
I stand too and look at the money. “That is way too much for bruschetta.”
“Like I said, it’s the best I’ve had. And for the record…” He pauses for a beat. “Not all monsters have horns. If I’d known you back in L.A. your ex would be dead for what he did to you. Not simply in prison.”
My heartbeat kicks up a notch, then it starts to gallop from the prospect of having someone who would have sought justice for me. “Really?”
“I think you know who I am, lass, so you know the answer to that question. See you around.” That sounds like a promise.
“See you.”
He dips his head and walks away. Roxanne rushes up to me and we both watch Cillian as he leaves.
“At least now we know why he gave you that extension,” she hums.
I can’t even argue. She’s right.
It was nice—all of it. But I could never be that foolish again.
Being with Cillian O’Ridian would be like swapping one monster for another, even if he doesn’t have horns.
He can still hurt me in other ways.