Chapter 2
Emily
I can't get him out of my head.
It's been three days since the charity gala. As soon as I got in the cab to head home that night I Googled him. There was suspiciously little about him that I could find, which only makes me more curious. Only a few articles about him being a billionaire businessman with possible ties to some unsavory characters. But Vincent Russo's dark eyes and intoxicating smile keep invading my thoughts at the most inopportune moments. Like now, when I'm supposed to be focused on ordering my much-needed morning coffee.
"Large almond milk latte with a pump of vanilla and a dash of cinnamon, please," I tell the barista, stifling a yawn. I was up late working on a case, and the lack of sleep is catching up with me.
"And an espresso, please," a familiar deep voice says behind me, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. "Along with whatever pastry the lady would like."
I turn and look up, startled, to find Vincent Russo standing there, looking unfairly put-together in a crisp suit that probably costs more than my monthly rent. His lips quirk up in a small smile as our eyes meet.
"Mr. Russo," I say, trying to keep my voice level. "What a coincidence."
"Vince," he corrects, just as he did at the gala. "And is it a coincidence? Or fate?"
I can't help but roll my eyes, even as I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. "I wasn't aware fate was interested in my coffee habits."
"Fate works in mysterious ways, Ms. Bennett," he says, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Emily," I counter, deciding two can play at this game. "But I don't need you to buy my coffee, Vince. I'm perfectly capable of paying for my own caffeine addiction."
He holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Wouldn't dream of suggesting otherwise. Consider it a thank you for the stimulating conversation the other night."
I raise an eyebrow. "Stimulating?”
"Exactly," he grins, sending a thrill shooting straight to my core as he blatantly looks me up and down. "That’s exactly the word to describe you."
I feel my cheeks redden but I’m saved by the barista calling our orders. As we move to the pick-up counter, I can't help but notice how Vince effortlessly commands the space around him. It's not just his imposing physical presence – though that certainly doesn't hurt – but an aura of confidence that seems to radiate from him.
"So," Vince says as we collect our drinks, "what brings New York's fiercest pro-bono lawyer to this particular coffee shop at this early hour?"
I take a sip of my latte, savoring the sweet warmth that tastes like Fall. "Oh, you know, just plotting to overthrow the patriarchy and dismantle systemic oppression. The usual Tuesday morning stuff."
Vince's eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. "Sounds exhausting. No wonder you need the caffeine."
"All in a day's work," I shrug. "What about you? Shouldn't you be off... I don't know, buying small countries or whatever it is billionaires do in their spare time?"
He chuckles. "I prefer to start small. Maybe just a private island or two before lunch."
I shake my head, amused despite myself. It's dangerous, how easy it is to fall into this playful back-and-forth with him. I need to remember who he is, what he's rumored to be involved in. I can’t let the fact that he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever met cloud my judgment.
As if reading my thoughts, Vince's expression turns more serious. "Listen, Emily. I enjoyed our conversation at the gala, and I'd like to continue it. Perhaps over dinner?"
I hesitate, my brain screaming at me to say no even as my pulse races at the prospect. "I don't know, Vince. I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"Because of what you've heard about me?" he asks, his voice low.
I meet his gaze, deciding honesty is the best policy. "Partly, yes. You have to admit, your reputation is... complicated."
He nods, not looking surprised or offended. "Fair enough. But I'd like the chance to show you there's more to me than rumors and speculation. One dinner. If you're still not convinced, I promise I'll leave you alone."
I should say no. I know I should. But looking into those dark, intense eyes, I find myself nodding. "Alright. One dinner."
Vince's smile makes my breath catch. "Excellent. How's tonight? 8 PM at La Grenouille?"
"Tonight?" I repeat, surprised by the suddenness.
He grins. "No time like the present, right? Unless you have other plans to topple the patriarchy this evening."
I laugh despite myself. "No, I suppose that can wait until tomorrow. Tonight works."
"Perfect," Vince says, looking pleased. He pulls out a business card and scribbles something on the back before handing it to me. "Here's my personal number. Text me your address and I’ll pick you up."
As our fingers brush during the exchange, I feel a jolt of electricity that has nothing to do with the caffeine.
"How about we meet there?” I ask, unsure that I trust myself in a confined space with this man.
“Whatever you prefer.” He grins, and my knees feel weak.
“I should get going," I say, suddenly needing some distance from his magnetic presence. "Cases to win, justice to serve, you know how it is."
Vince nods, his eyes never leaving mine. "Of course. I look forward to tonight, Emily."
As I walk out of the coffee shop, my heart pounding and his card burning a hole in my pocket, I realize I'm in deep trouble. Because despite everything I know, I'm intrigued by Vincent Russo. And if I’m honest with myself, I’m much more than that.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of anticipation and nerves. By the time I arrive at La Grenouille, my stomach is in knots. I smooth down my navy blue dress – borrowed from my roommate Jen, who insisted it would "knock his socks off" when I told her about the impromptu date – and take a deep breath before entering the restaurant.
The ma?tre d' leads me to a secluded table in the back. And there he is.
Vincent rises as I approach, and I take him in. He's even more handsome than I remembered, his tailored light blue silk jacket accentuating his broad shoulders and muscular physique. But it's his eyes that capture me – dark and intense, they seem to see right through me.
"Emily," he says, his voice sending that same shiver down my spine. "I'm glad you came."
As I take my seat, I notice a flicker of something in his expression. Relief? Had he been worried I wouldn't show?
"I have to admit, I'm still surprised by your invitation," I say, aiming for a light tone.
"Good surprised, I hope?"
I meet his gaze, deciding to maintain the honesty from our earlier encounter. "I'm not sure yet. I suppose that depends on how this evening goes, doesn't it?"
He flashes a grin that sends heat straight to my core. "Challenge accepted, counselor."
I cock my head to the side and raise an eyebrow.
His smile turns wry. "In my world, people tend to tell me what they think I want to hear. You, on the other hand, seem incapable of being anything but brutally honest."
"Is that a compliment or a complaint?"
He laughs, a rich, warm sound that sends butterflies exploding through my stomach. "Definitely a compliment.”
As we look over the menus and order, I find myself relaxing despite my earlier reservations. Vince is easy to talk to, yes, but not in a smooth, practiced way. There's an edge to him, a hint of danger that should probably scare me but instead leaves me intrigued. Intrigued, and more than a little excited.
Over dinner, our conversation flows easily. We discuss my recent cases, his business ventures (the legal ones, at least), our favorite spots in the city. I'm surprised to find we have similar tastes in literature and art.
"So, Emily," Vince says as we linger over our main course, "I have to ask. What made you decide to become a pro-bono lawyer? It's not exactly the most lucrative career path."
I take a sip of wine, considering my answer. "I guess I've always had a strong sense of justice. Growing up, I saw how the system could fail people – good people who just needed a chance. I wanted to be someone who could give them that chance."
Vince's expression softens. "That's admirable. Not many people would choose to fight for others over their own comfort."
"What about you?" I ask, suddenly curious. "How did you end up where you are?"
A shadow passes over his face, so quickly I almost miss it. "That's... a long story. Let's just say I didn't have many choices growing up. I did what I had to do to survive, to protect the people I care about."
There's a weight to his words that makes me pause. For a moment, I see past the polished exterior to the man beneath – a man who's seen things, done things that have left their mark.
"And now?" I ask softly. "Do you have choices now?"
His eyes meet mine, and the intensity in them takes my breath away. "I'm starting to think I might," he says, his voice low.
The air between us feels charged, electric. I should look away, should remember all the reasons why getting involved with a man like Vincent Russo is a terrible idea. But I can't seem to break his gaze.
"You know," I say, trying to lighten the mood, "when I agreed to this dinner, I half expected to be interrogated about my cases or pressured to drop certain investigations."
Vince looks genuinely surprised. "Is that what you think of me?"
I shrug, a bit embarrassed. "It's what the rumors would suggest."
He leans back, studying me for a moment. "Emily, I invited you to dinner because I find you fascinating. Not because I want something from you or expect you to compromise your principles. If anything, it's your commitment to your beliefs that intrigues me most. I’ve never met anyone like you."
His words catch me off guard. "I... thank you," I manage. "I'm not used to billionaires being interested in my moral compass."
Vince grins. "Well, I've always been an outlier in the billionaire community. It's lonely at the top, you know."
I can't help but laugh. "Oh, poor you. How do you manage?"
"With great difficulty," he says solemnly, though his eyes are twinkling. "Sometimes I have to console myself by swimming in my pool of gold coins, or taking one of my jets to get gelato in Rome."
As our laughter subsides, I find myself studying him. There's so much more to Vincent Russo than I initially thought. Yes, there's still that aura of danger, the hint of a past shrouded in mystery. But there's also warmth, intelligence, and a wry sense of humor that keeps catching me off guard.
"Where’d you go just now, counselor?" Vince asks, noticing my contemplative look.
I smile, deciding to be honest. "I was just thinking that you're not what I expected, Vince."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"I'm not sure yet," I admit. "But I think... I think it might be good."
His answering smile is warm enough to melt glaciers. Or my panties. As we move on to dessert – a decadent chocolate soufflé that Vince insists we share – our conversation turns to lighter topics. We trade stories about our most embarrassing moments in court (mine) and boardrooms (his), debate the merits of various New York pizza joints, and discover a shared love for obscure 80s movies.
By the time we finish our coffee, I'm surprised to find that hours have passed. The restaurant has emptied around us, and the staff are discreetly starting to clean up.
"I think that might be our cue to leave," I say, nodding towards a waiter who's hovering nearby.
Vince glances at his watch, looking as surprised as I feel. "I can't remember ever losing track of time like this," he admits.
As we step out into the cool night air, I feel a strange reluctance to leave. Vince turns to me, his expression unreadable.
"Thank you for joining me tonight, Emily," he says. "I enjoyed our conversation."
"So did I," I admit. "It was... not what I expected."
A smile tugs at his lips. "I'll take that as a compliment. Perhaps we could do it again sometime?"
I know I should say no. I know getting any more involved with this man is asking for trouble. But looking up into those dark eyes, feeling the warmth of his presence so close to me, I find myself nodding.
"I'd like that," I say softly.
For a moment, we just stand there, the air between us crackling with unspoken tension. Then, slowly, giving me plenty of time to pull away, Vince leans in.
His lips meet mine, and it's like a circuit completing. The kiss is soft at first, almost questioning, but quickly deepens as I respond. I feel his hand cup my face, his thumb gently caressing my cheek as his other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer.
I lose myself in the kiss, in the warmth of his hard body against mine, in the intoxicating mix of wine and chocolate and something uniquely Vince. It's only when we finally break apart, both a little breathless, that reality comes crashing back.
Vince's eyes are dark, intense.
I know I should step back, should say goodnight and walk away. But I'm rooted to the spot, caught in his gaze.
"Emily," Vince says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I know you have reservations about me, about my world. And I respect that. But I want you to know... I'm serious about getting to know you. If you'll let me."
I take a deep breath, trying to clear my head. "Vince, I... This is complicated. You know that, right?"
He nods, his expression serious. "I know. But I think it might be worth it."
As I look up at him, I realize I'm standing at a crossroads. The safe path would be to walk away now, to thank him for dinner and never see him again. But the other path, the one that leads into uncharted territory with this gorgeous, fascinating man... it's calling to me.
"Okay," I hear myself say. "Let's see where this goes."
Vince leans in for another kiss, this one more powerful than the first, and I lose myself in the dominating way he claims my mouth, my lips, my entire being.
As I finally slide into the waiting car, my lips still tingling and my head spinning, I realize I'm in deep trouble. And I’m surprised to find that I don’t care.