Chapter 35
Chapter
Thirty-Five
Luna
“This is crazy!” I yell in Vince’s ear as men on bikes zoom dangerously close to us on one side, vendors barking at us from the other.
“ Bella chaos . Stay close!” He takes my hand, leading me through a sea of people.
“ Bella ragazza , you need curniciello !” An old man holds up a red horn charm strung on ribbon. “Bring you good luck.”
I pause, jerking Vince to a stop. “Before you say no such thing, what could it hurt?” I turn to the vendor. “How much?”
He shakes his head, pointing to Vince. “He buy it and gift to you, or no magic.”
“You heard the man,” I tell Vince.
“Love being hustled right out of the gate,” he mutters. Switching over to Italian, he and the man have a back and forth before Vince hands over some Euros .
“Your overpriced souvenir,” Vince says, handing me the charm.
“My good luck charm,” I correct him. “Glass half full or half empty depends entirely on you,” I throw his words at him.
“Love the dime-store philosophy.” It’s his turn to throw my words back at me.
“Taught by the best dime-store philosopher in all of Jersey,” I say.
Vince shakes his head with a laugh, pulling me along.
We make our way through the city until we reach a beautiful urban oasis of a park. My heart nearly skips a beat when I spot the Grandmaster seated at a chess table by himself.
Vince gives my hand a squeeze, encouraging me along. “ Scusate, Gran Maestro D'Agostino? Grazie per averci incontrato. Sono Luna Barone, di cui vi parlavo ,” Vince says.
“ Ah, sì. Il Maestro Internazionale del New Jersey. ” Grandmaster D’Agustino says, looking at me.
I nod. I’ve moved up in ranking to International Master, one step closer to my dream. “ Attualmente sono un Maestro Internazionale, ma vorrei che tu mi aiutassi a diventare un Gran Maestro ,” I explain, glancing over to Vince, who’s shocked expression is priceless.
Vince
The little con artist speaks Italian. Fluently, I might add.
“One game,” the Grandmaster tells Luna, switching over to English. “If we reach a draw, I coach you here in Naples for three months.”
Not fucking happening.
“If I win, you enjoy Naples before your return trip to the States,” he continues.
“And if Luna wins?” I interject.
“And if Luna wins, I move to the States, become the resident Grandmaster of your new club, and coach her for free for a year.”
Luna takes a seat across from him, extending her hand with that little ember of fire in her eyes. “Let’s play.”
Vince
“I’m proud of you, piccola. You never cease to amaze me.” She swiftly bested the Grandmaster, who looked rather shocked at the defeat. Not a shock to me, as I already had the paperwork drawn up and ready to be signed. It’s a done deal.
Her cheeks flush. “Thank you. I’m pretty proud of myself.”
“As you should be. Come on, we’re going to celebrate your victory before we fly home.”
We stroll through a more relaxed neighborhood, and something in the window of a jewelry shop catches my eye.
I pull Luna inside, and we leave with her wearing a silver half moon pendant. “A belated birthday present and apology for me being an asshole.”
“I love it.” Luna kisses me on the cheek, and I want so bad to turn my face and taste those lips on mine, but I refrain. She told me she’d kiss me when she gets her freedom, and I’m not ready to let her go.
We reach the pizzeria, and the hostess escorts us to our table. I pull out Luna’s chair for her.
“Such gentlemanly manners, Mr. Vincenzo.” She bats her eyes.
“Sit down before I turn you over my knee in this packed restaurant,” I whisper in her ear.
Her lips curl as she takes a seat, and I walk around the table and take mine.
Our server appears, and the first thing Luna asks is, “Do you have soda?”
“I bring you Chinotto. Italy’s soda. And you, sir?”
“Sparkling water.”
The man disappears, and I point to Luna. “Do not, under any circumstances, ask for ranch.” I want to preemptively avoid disaster.
She crosses her arms. “Have you ever tried ranch on pizza?”
“Luna, we are on hallowed ground. Where pizza originated. The arguably best pizza in the world. The equivalent would be ordering the most expensive Wagyu steak on the menu, and asking for a bottle of steak sauce.”
“I love steak sauce!”
I exhale heavily. “So much I have to teach you.”
“Except Italian.” She smiles smugly.
“Why did you lie to me? I asked you the first time we met?—”
“Whether my old man taught me Italian. He didn’t; I taught myself.”
I can’t help but laugh. A kindred soul hustler, through and through.
Our server appears with our drinks, and I order for Luna and myself.
“What if I didn’t want pizza Margarita?” Luna challenges .
“And this is why we can only get along for five minute increments,” I tease her.
“Five minutes is being generous,” she retorts.
“One, it’s your favorite. Two, you have to try pizza Margarita in the city where it originated. Now, put away the claws for just a moment, and let’s make a toast.” Grabbing my water glass, I raise it. “To you becoming a Grandmaster. Salute .”
Luna smiles brightly, her emerald eyes lighting up the dining room. “ Salute .”
We clink glasses and take a sip, with her making a horrible face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I thought this was Italy’s version of soda.”
“It is.”
“Why is it so bitter?”
I shrug. “They don’t put half a pound of sugar in their soda like we do?”
“That’s the problem,” she solemnly agrees.
Our pizza is presented, and I watch Luna take the first bite, her eyes closing as she moans. “I get why this is hallowed ground.” She opens her eyes, catching me staring. “What?”
“I like watching you eat,” I admit.
She wrinkles her nose. “Weirdo.”
“You eat with passion. It’s very pleasurable to watch, especially when you eat my food,” I admit, taking my first bite.
“You’ll have to feed me, Daddy, when we get home,” she leans over the table and whispers. “And then my sweet little cunt will feed you.” She runs her foot along my calf, moving it higher before I grab it under the table.
“Five days.” My dick jumps in protest.
“Come on! Hasn’t it been a week already? What about the time difference? ”
I shake my head, placing her foot on the ground. “Italy is only six hours ahead.”
Luna’s pout is soon replaced after dinner when we stop for gelato. She takes a lick of her cherry cone, and I’ve never been as obsessed with a woman’s mouth as I am with hers.
“Want a lick?” She holds out her cone. “Or are you worried una ciliegia tira l’altra ?”
“It’s too late to worry about that, don’t you think?” I take a lick.
What I should be worried about is falling for Luna, because I don’t have to be an oddsmaker to predict how this game will end.