Chapter 19
Gia
The last several nights at Bangos have been pretty status quo. Except for my brother cornering me on my first day back, all has been quiet. Well, not quiet. The occasional douchebag frequents here more than any other restaurant that I ever worked, and my boss has been more attentive since I disappeared with Stacey a week ago, but other than that? It’s a good distraction from heartache.
I miss Castor terribly. He’s texted me a number of times, small things really. A few apologies, a number of ‘I miss you’ guilt trips, even some offerings to eat in, watch a movie – a movie on the couch, like normal people! – just so we can talk. He says he misses me and wants to make this thing between us work. I’ve ignored it all, unable to think past the screams.
Now that the image of a tortured Russian is a little less vibrant in my head, the big golden brute is taking over once more. It’s bullshit, really. Why can’t he fade away like a normal crush does?
He’s a murderer for God’s sake.
I’m a particular kind of mess today. The AC is broken, it’s busier than usual, and of course this all happens on a freak 70-degree spring evening. A bead of sweat tickles my back as I balance five plates on my arms. There’s a scrunch in my flats from sweat, and Stacey has been buzzing in my ear all night about the buff Wall Street dude in suspenders and an undershirt, revealing a veiny set of biceps.
“You’re so easy.” I chuckle over my shoulder while she follows me.
“Hey. No judgement. You had your fun with your stud, now mama’s gotta get some.” Stacey kisses me on the cheek, grabs all my plates, and whisks them to the table I have to sacrifice for her mid-serve. I scoff with a smile and head back to the kitchen. This means I have to pick up one of hers and complicate my whole routine.
All things considered, it’s fine. So long as no one is being burnt with liquid gold or assaulting me in my car, I’m good.
The number of draft text messages I have ready to shoot off to him is borderline insane. Landscapes aren’t doing it anymore either. The space behind my couch is getting pretty filled up with crumpled, dark-style portraits. He’s corrupting my mind.
“I’m falling for you,” his voice replays in my head, followed by images of his body lathered in sweat. Another warm shiver rocks me to the point I nearly drop a hot plate of filet mignon. I don’t know if it’s hormones, or what, but he’s nearly ruined four sets of panties without even being present for it. And wrapped up in that heat-filled desire, I just want to sink into his arms, hear about how his day went, and just to be present with him, like his messages keep showing he wants with me as well.
The man literally saved my life. Even if I keep telling myself he caused it, that doesn’t erase his dedication to me.
I bite my lip and go check my tables to get out of my own head. Every time I see bright headlights turning outside, my heart skips a beat – because I secretly wish it were him. There’s just the occasional Marco posted up on a faraway wall in the shadows, smoking a cigarette. Though come to think of it… No sign of him either the last two days.
Maybe Castor sent him on an errand so he could—
Ugh. I’m pathetic.
The night proves relatively uneventful. Tips are about normal, and I am exhausted. My last table is lingering until closing. They’re a nice enough batch of couples, so I don’t mind too much, but I am peeking in more often so they get the hint.
“You guys need anything else? Last call from the kitchen.”
Hint. Hint.
They all look at one another.
“No, I think we’re good on food. Another round of drinks would be great, though!” a balding blonde man says, and I force a smile.
“Coming right up. Gin and tonic, Malibu breeze, Corona, Corona, Heineken, and an old fashion.” I point down the line, receiving a nod for each. “Be right back.”
As I’m about to turn, my breath hitches so hard I gasp. Lights flash right at me from across the way through the windows. A black Range Rover parked in the same spot as the night I lost my Castor virginity.
My body betrays me in all sorts of ways. The lingering sets of eyes make me turn and head toward the bar to drop in their orders before my mind melts into a blank canvas. Then, I rush to the employee bathroom.
Stray hairs look like snakes, and my face is glistening with sweat. I’m a mess.
Bzzt.
Castor: I have to see you. Don’t run.
My phone stopped buzzing, but my body didn’t get the memo. I’m all electrified jitters trying to wrangle my hair into place.
Castor: Don’t clean up either. I prefer you like this.
That text just unleashed a passionate fire swirling in my midsection. I have no idea why. He wants me… like this? After a long day of work? What kind of sick bastard—
My cheeks are not only glistening now, they’re as red as my skin will allow.
If I give in though… I’ll be putting myself in harm’s way again. Expecting different results after time and time again being screwed into violence. I dip my head over the sink, holding the sides.
Bzzt.
Castor: It’s important. Please come out.
I grit my teeth hard, fighting myself. But before anymore thoughts can sneak in, I’m already out the bathroom door on the way to the exit. “Cover me, Stace.”
Her eyes widen as she notices my conviction. She knows there’s drama, knows I swore off the big bad Bull. Yet here I go again, entertaining a murderer.
A blast of warm air makes me think of summer. One quick inhale brings thoughts of beaches and pools and hot men I never could connect with for more than a few dates. What if there’s one I could take everywhere with me?
Stop it, Gia.
He’s a killer worse than Marco.
I can feel Castor’s eyes on me even though I can’t see him through those black tints.
I can’t believe I’m seeing him like this.
The front door unlocks as I approach, leaving me in an eternal moment of suspense, hoping I don’t feel anything when I open that door.
He’s sitting in the driver’s seat in a perfectly tailored beige suit that compliments his gold – one big arm on the headrest of the passenger’s seat, smile and eyes somewhat hesitant.
His gaze is like a string tugging me closer. The fire ignites against all of my faux hopes, and I’m no longer apprehensive. I get in without a hitch.
As soon as I shut the door, he leans in slow.
A well of emotion fills from my toes all the way up to my chest.
My instinct is to pull away, because this thing – is over. But I don’t. I just sit there, drowning, not giving an inch, not taking an inch. He’s happy with that decision, apparently, because his smile just grew. As he inhales my scent, I start to think I’m being tested by a rabid animal… and I like it.
Instead of moving in for a kiss, he grabs my hand and backs away, kissing only my knuckle in the most respectful way.
He’s horny, I can see it in his now lustful baby blues. Yet he’s holding himself back, and I catch myself thinking – for me.
“It’s all wrong, Gia.” He starts the car and whips a U-turn away from my job before I can protest. “I never should’ve done that to you. But at the same time… I don’t regret it.” He glances at me. “Because now you know.”
My lips twist to one side. I’m not sure how I feel about that. “Where are we going, Castor?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I kind of have a job to do.”
“Your shift is about done, and you asked that nice woman to cover for you. I think you’ll be fine.” He smirks.
I fold my arms.
At a red light he turns to fully face me, eyeing me like I’m the only woman in the world.
“So what’s this big important thing that I had to come out for?” I ask.
“Tomorrow is a big job, Gia. It could get ugly. And I couldn’t go on without seeing you.”
My heart melts into a puddle in my chest. I cross my legs to the other side to stop from fidgeting. Now I’m freakin’ worried about him. “Then don’t do it.”
“I have to,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because there are other people who depend on me. If we do this right, their families will be taken care of for a generation to come.”
I scratch at my arm. “What if your family needs you to keep breathing? I know you’re not close with any of them since you took up mob ties, but what about me?”
He’s disarmed almost entirely. The light is green, and he has no idea until I flick my eyes in that direction.
My eyes remain on him as he slowly turns away, speechless. Yeah, let’s say I was to get over the fact that he’s a torturous psycho to anyone who puts a hand on me, then what? Does he really think I’m going to sit back and let him get himself killed?
God, here I go, already giving in.
Looking at how freshly groomed he is, I feel disgusting. Smoothing out the fly-aways in my hair just proves I’m too damn grimy to be sitting here. When I shift my legs to cross the other way, my thighs have a hard time unsticking.
“Sent my brother on an errand?” I ask.
“I figured you wouldn’t want to talk business after… you know.”
“Just want to make sure I won’t be in the middle of another shootout, considering you’re both psychos.”
“Our business has always been dark, Gia. Since the day Marco and I got picked up by John Scar to do some errands. We were kids then, but it’s still the life we chose.” He glances at me, eyes soft as if checking to make sure I’m not going to go into the fetal position again.
“Well, what I don’t want is to be with someone who’s always sitting with a target on his back.”
There’s a long silence between us, until the next red light.
“I meant what I said in that stairwell.”
His words funnel into me like a drip of morphine. My chest feels like it’s going to cave in. I want that so bad… someone to love me.
No, I’m lying. Not someone. Him.
I had my chance with one of my Tinder dates a few years back. He begged on his knees with flowers. Even bought a ring way too soon. But as much as I tried to force a connection with Henry, it just wasn’t there.
Castor teasing that kind of attention, on the other hand. Woo, I am confused and ready to dive right in. But my mind won’t let me be that stupid. I know where it leads.
“I guess you don’t feel the same?” he asks almost sheepishly.
He’s never sheepish.
“Before that Russian got to me, I was on cloud nine, Castor,” is all I offer. I can’t close the door entirely – my heart and body won’t let me.
It takes another few minutes before we pull in front of a restaurant with amber lighting peeking through closed curtains. The sign reads ‘Trattoria Mangia,’ and from what I can see from the outside, it looks fancy. Too fancy to be open at a time like this.
Castor runs out of the car before I can exit and comes to my side to escort me. I blush once our hands touch. The bastard knows what he’s doing. Then flashes of his eeriness when walking the molten liquid over to the Russian plague my mind.
“You should be treated like a queen.” His pearly blues disarm me again.
“Castor. Castor,” I whisper as he turns, carefully unlocking the restaurant’s door. “I’m not dressed for a place like this. Look at me.”
He ignores me with a big smile on his face, opening it to present a brown box-pattern carpet over a beige marble floor. The chandeliers are gorgeous wooden designs holding rings of light, and in the center of the entire restaurant, there’s only one table set up.
I swallow past a lump in my throat, confused that there’s not a soul in the building with us. This is right-out-of-a-movie level romantic. At this point I lose most of my disdain and hold onto his big muscular arm as he leads me to the table. He purrs at that, satisfied that his plan paid off.
To that I’d say, hold your horses, buddy. But this is a damn good start.
He has a pep in his step, gently peeling my hands off of him so he can inspect the table before we sit. Adjusting one of the forks slightly, ‘just so,’ is the icing on the cake. He wants this to be perfect for me. It’s kind of really adorable.
“After you, my lady.” He pretends to be proper, tucking me in.
When he starts to walk away, my brow furrows. “Cas—” My mouth drops open in shock when he grabs an apron hanging on a wooden pole and drapes it over him.
“Sit pretty, kid. It’s time to pay you back.”
I’m fighting a smile. “I don’t have a gold sleeve to offer.”
“That’s alright. You have a golden set of lips hiding under there. Let’s see if I earn them.”
My mouth hangs open for the second time in a minute. Bastard is making me wet again. I’m not sure what I’m hungry for anymore.
He smoothly heads into the kitchen while I’m left to marvel at the restaurant. The place is immaculate. Not a speck of dust on the walls, and the white tablecloth is perfectly ironed. Whoever set this up for him was well-paid.
I pick my nails under the table after a few minutes go by. Some stray thoughts of crying myself to sleep the last few nights rear back in. I don’t want to deal with it, so I impatiently get up and head toward the kitchen.
There aren’t any voices. No one talking to one another while prepping the food. What the hell is going on in there?
I push open the door to a sizzling pan of calamari frying right in front of me. When Castor turns, he’s angry – like I just slapped his mother in the face or something.
“Yo. Who invited you in here?” He takes the towel off his shoulder and whips it at me. “Go sit down. Stay put.”
I hiss at him. “I liked it better when you were scared of me.”
“Out!”he shouts.
With butterflies whirling around my stomach, I rush out of sight and let the swinging door tap my ass on the way out. I’m biting my lip. Castor DeMatteo cooking… for me? I thought bosses have servants and crewmembers waiting on them hand and foot.
He can cook?
That… is hot.
Hah. Don’t count your chickens yet, Gia. You haven’t tasted the food.
I meander back toward the table, when a naughty twinge yanks me out of the restaurant area, toward the lavish mahogany bar I breezed past before. Since the place is barren, and Castor probably freakin’ owns it, I lean over the bar to see what he’s got hiding under there. Some beer taps. To the right, there’s a flapping door that seems unlocked, so I waltz my way in and start humming while inspecting the top-shelf liquor.
He likes Johnnie Blue from what I remember. Scotch boy, my Castor is. So I reach on my tiptoes to get my cook what he deserves. I check the mini-freezer under the bar and claim a single fat cube even though he likes it neat. He should know that it’s better this way. Not everything has to be painful for it to be good.
I pour three fingers worth of scotch and flip the bottle back upright – a neat little trick Trish the bartender taught me at Bangos. Let’s see, what do I want? Something to numb the bad thoughts, that’s for sure.
I’m careful not to be a bitch by opening a new bottle, so I skip past the Grey Goose and go for Titos. I fill up the glass by using the club soda fountain to my heart’s content, then I giddily walk back to our table before Castor can catch me.
I sit down and cheers the phantom across from me, taking a sip to calm my nerves.
Pmf. The swinging door rocks open, revealing the hottest cook imaginable. Dark blonde hair, eyes that shine a whole new shade of blue under amber light, and arms that shouldn’t be legal.
He struts triumphantly at first, but his expression slowly drops when he notices two fresh drinks on the table.
“Bitch!” he growls. “Can’t you just sit still and accept my gift?”
I lift one arm to hide my face behind, giggling. “It’s the server in me.”
“I’m considering chaining you there.” He places the plate of calamari down in the center – marinara dipping sauce and all. Once the food is down, he resumes his sever persona. “You must be starving from your long day.”
“I pick here and there,” I admit.
“My woman should never be inconvenienced like that.” He presents the appetizer. “Please, enjoy.”
“What about you?” I grab for his hand. “Sit, drink with me. Eat with me.”
He picks up his glass and inspects it. I can tell he wants to say something about the cube, but he doesn’t. “You remembered,” he says, extending the glass to clink with mine.
“You’re hard to forget.” I wrinkle my nose and take a non-ladylike swig.
Heat squirms through my body, relaxing my overtaxed nerves and letting the yearning within me win by just a hair.
“The dessert is pre-made, so I promise when I’m done with the main course, I’ll sit with you.” He turns swiftly away.
“Castor,” I say, my voice weak.
“Hm?” He turns.
“I missed you.”
He nods, taking the win in private with his back turned to me.