Chapter 24 – Amanda – The Past
The warmth and familiarity of the restaurant were like a tender embrace. Mama Ana’s Bar we’ve missed you, ragazza.”
Just like that, I felt the final piece of the homecoming settle around me. The thing about Don Morelli was that he wasn’t a liar. When he praised me, he meant it. His interest in my studies was genuine. The offer to return was an open invitation, a welcome back.
“I really shouldn’t stay much longer,” I said quietly to Vincenzo. “It will be the dinner rush soon, and you’ll need to have the table open for paying customers.”
Vincenzo leaned down, knuckles digging into the table. “You’re my guest. You’ll stay as long as you want.”
The possessive tone in his voice shivered over me.
We were friends. Best friends. But the way he looked at me now, it sparked something that made those shivers hot, not cold.
“Well, I can’t stay too long. The cover story of extracurriculars won’t hold up if it gets late,” I insisted.
“I’ll take you back in the car. But first—” He chewed his bottom lip.
My gaze snagged on the motion. The way that lip became fuller. More red. Wet and something I kinda wanted to taste.
“Yes?” I breathed.
“Can you look at something for me?”
The beat of my heart jumped, sending a pulse straight into my throat. Clearing it, and hoping I sounded casual, I arched a brow and said, “I’m not a cannolo expert, Enzo.”
He gave me a funny look, face scrunched up. “What?”
Shut up, you dork!
Lord, I was bad at this flirting stuff. Why was I even trying? Vincenzo likely didn’t see me that way. Right? Arg! Who knew?
“Sorry,” I muttered and shook my head. “What is it?”
“I’ll grab my backpack.” Vincenzo rapped his knuckles against the table and spun around.
I tried, and failed, not to stare at his ass as he walked away. Greek gods would weep.
Jotting down a few more steps to the equation, I slid my work into my own backpack. I didn’t want to go. Mama Ana’s felt more like home than the house we lived in. But if I wanted the opportunity to return, I had to tear myself away now or risk being discovered in the “bad part of town.”
The door banged open. Loud voices chirped, and a group of local kids marched into the space. I knew a handful of them. Cristiano was there, Vincenzo’s younger brother. I tipped my chin up in a casual greeting.
The younger Messina smirked and shook his head. But he didn’t come over.
No, Sal Toscano did.
Sal was a nephew of the underboss by marriage. He was fresh out of high school—if he’d even graduated. Last I heard, the odds were unlikely.
“There’s a pretty face. What’s up, princess?” That title was a classic slur. I supposed I earned it when my dad became rich and turned his back on the famiglia. We had used it on other snobby people; now it was my turn.
Sal slid a look over my body, lingering a little too long on my chest. Since it was almost autumn on the calendar, I was in a fluttery, burgundy floral dress, even if the long sleeves made me roast in the warmer afternoon sun. The dress looked damn good, and I wore it on purpose.
Just not for Sal to stare at the way it hugged my breasts.
“Hi, Sal, I’m fine. How are you?” I sat up straighter, forced myself to be diplomatic.
“I’m fine also.” His tone sounded mocking. “How’s that prep school? Do the nuns beat you?”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “It’s not a parochial school.” At his confused look, I added, “No nuns.”
“Well, if they give you trouble, you tell Old Sal. I’ll set them straight for you, princess.”
Yeah, and get your ass thrown in jail for assault.
Idiota.
I felt him before he spoke. The fine hairs on the back of my neck prickled in warning. The dark presence, like a summer storm, crept up behind me, hovering over me. I didn’t have to look to see what was scrawled on his face.
I was that in-tune with his body. With his moods. With his soul.
“She’s not a princess. Not a Blue Blood.” A hard hand fell on my right shoulder, the arm of solid muscle draped behind my neck. “Her name is Amanda. Call her anything else, and I’ll break your teeth.”
Another raging hot shiver raced down my spine.
“She your girl now, Messina?” Sal drawled, debating if he wanted to pounce. To fight for a claim.
“She’s here with me, yes.” The note of possession in Vincenzo’s voice settled deep in my chest.
No…lower.
I kept my body deadly still, preventing it from doing anything awkward like rubbing my thighs together.
“I see.” Sal shoved away. “Have a nice night…Amanda.”
I let out a sigh of relief when I didn’t hear the mocking title.
Vincenzo’s touch lingered for a moment. It felt nice. Protective and familiar. I wanted to lean into him but was scared because I didn’t know if it would be well received.
“What did you want to show me?” I asked, trying to break the tension crackling around us.
Vincenzo dropped his arm, set his backpack on the table, and slid onto the seat across from me. “Do you understand American Literature?”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “A little.”
“You’re not in that class, but do you think you could explain where I went wrong?” Vincenzo opened his bag and pulled out a neat, unwrinkled plastic binder.
“Yeah, it’s tough, but I think I can figure it out.” Reading was the one thing I did in my spare time that was for me and me alone.
I caught myself before I could make a quip, though. Vincenzo looked…forlorn. His brows were drawn together, his gaze tearing across the paper.
“Here.”
He shoved the paper to me with a note of resignation. As if it were a death sentence.
I gasped softly. Yeah, a D- kinda was the same thing.
“If I don’t improve my grades, my scholarship is at risk.”
My head jerked up. No! No, no…no. “That’s not happening.”
“I just…don’t get it.” Vincenzo clasped his fist on the table, lowered his chin to it, and glared into space. “Who cares if Hemingway romanticized the Spanish peasantry? It means jack shit.”
This time, I snorted. A plan was forming in my head. The sociology class was better suited for the college applications I planned to start filling out next month. But…American Literature sounded way more fun.
Especially if it meant reading Hemingway with Vincenzo.
“I’ll help,” I promised. “You’re not losing that scholarship.”
He looked over at me. That brown gaze darkened to black. Something flashed deep in those inky depths. This time, the ripple of heat skated across my skin, settling low in my belly, curling into something that resembled…fire.