Chapter 2
ROMEO
“Sara’s a nice girl, Romeo. Don’t fuck this up.”
I smile at Gia as she settles into the back seat of the car. “Thanks, boss.” I think.
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Some folks think that Gia is scary, but it’s just her way.
When you’re used to people doing everything you tell them to do, and bowing their heads in your presence, it kinda makes you a bit…
stuck up, I guess. I’m not scared of her though.
I’ve seen her at her most vulnerable when guys let her down, the side of her that no one else sees.
She might have money and a family name that opens a lot of doors, but her heart still beats the same way.
“You nearly scared her half to death,” she says gently. “What were you thinking, just lumbering over to her like that?”
I shrug. “You told me to go for it. So, I went for it.”
Gia sighs. “Yeah well, you could’ve used a little tact, opened the conversation by telling her how lovely she looks today.”
“Tact isn’t his thing, Ms. Rossi,” Antonio chimes in.
I shoot him a glare. “Asshole.”
“Shut up. Both of you,” Nico snaps.
We do. We’re employed by Gia, and Elio, but Nico is our immediate boss. Elio gives orders to Nico, and Nico makes sure we get them done.
It’s a clear-cut system. Easy. I like it. I’m used to a hierarchy, and in Elio’s world, everything makes sense. Everyone has a role to play. And I know exactly where I fit.
I never figured out the pecking order in high school.
I was always the tallest, the largest, and the strongest kid my age.
Other kids found me intimidating, so they tried their damnedest to bring me down.
Self-defense mechanism, like little-dog syndrome.
Attack before I showed them what I was capable of.
My grades were average. My teachers never saw the little assholes who started the trouble that I finished.
And my mom didn’t know what to do with me.
Then a Student Advisor suggested joining the Marines after I graduated, saying that it would teach me some discipline, give my life some structure.
And he was right. I liked being told when to get up, when to eat, when to sleep and exercise and fight.
It cut out the thinking part and allowed me to play to my strengths in a controlled environment.
That would’ve been my life if I didn’t get a back injury that took the option away from me.
Getting back out into the civilian world sucked—it was hard to navigate a world that had changed while I was serving my country.
I had no qualifications for an office job, and back pain that made manual work difficult to find.
I was about halfway to jail when Elio found me because when you look like I do, trouble follows you around like you got Velcro stuck to your back.
Been working for him for two years now and never looked back.
Been following Gia to the nail salon for six months.
And I’ve been dying to ask pretty Sara Mancini out every single day but never plucked up the courage. Until today. Give me a war to fight and I’m right there on the front-line. But ask me to speak to a beautiful woman and my tongue forgets that it’s connected to my brain.
“So, what are you going to do with her?” Gia asks as Nico pulls away from the curb. She’s genuinely interested. It’s one of the things I like about my bosses. They never forget that their employees are real people.
“Get sorbet.”
“Not ice cream?”
“She’s lactose intolerant.”
“She told you that?”
I frown. Was it too much information to share the first time we spoke? I don’t have much experience with women. “I think she was a little nervous.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. But you’re still going out, huh?”
I raise an eyebrow at Gia. “We all have our stuff.”
I mean, I wake up in the middle of the night screaming sometimes because my brain feasts on corpses, bullets, and blood while I’m asleep.
An aversion to dairy is nothing in comparison.
I’d love regular issues, the kind that can be handled by avoiding ice cream.
I only hope that Sara can hang out with mine.
“Just don’t fuck it up, Romeo. Sara Mancini never left Staten Island because the rest of the world isn’t always that accommodating for girls like her, you know what I mean? She’s not connected, but you know,” Gia shrugs. “She’s… nice. She went to high school with us.”
“I know.”
She sits forward, her eyes taking on a familiar predatory gleam. “And bring her some fucking flowers.”
“Already planning to, boss.”
An hour later, I’m waiting outside the nail salon. I have no idea what flowers Sara likes, and my hands feel like they’re sweating around the stems in my palm. White and yellow daisies. They made me think of Sara when I saw them, pretty and perfect and unpretentious.
I stare at the door for so long that I talk myself around in circles.
What if she doesn’t like them? What if she slips out the back way to avoid me?
What if she only said yes because she was being polite in front of her coworkers and Gia?
I’ll never be able to show my face in there again.
I’ll have to switch places with one of the other lads.
Every third Friday will never be the same again.
What if she is in there now laughing at me standing here…
Then the door opens and she steps out, and my fears evaporate leaving behind a warm glow inside my chest.
God damn. She’s gorgeous. Petite, with glossy, dark-brown hair that’s piled on top of her head in a cute bundle. I love the purple outfit she’s wearing today. The pants hug the sweet curves of her ass, and the top nips in at her small waist.
Her brown eyes widen when she sees me. “Romeo?”
My fist tightens around the flowers. “Hi.”
“You weren’t kidding. One hour on the dot.”
Oh shit. I shuffle my weight from one foot to the other. Does it make me look too eager? Gia never told me to be late. She never told me to be early either, and she insisted that I bring flowers. I didn’t think to ask how these things work.
“I can go away and come back.”
Her eyes soften as she walks toward me. She smiles. “It’s okay. I just thought maybe I could go home and change first.”
No fucking way. “You look beautiful.”
Sara studies me for several beats, tilting her head. “You mean that, don’t you?”
I frown. “Of course I do.”
“Huh.” She looks at the flowers and gets that funny, soft look in her eyes again. “Are these for me?”
I hold them out for her to take. “Yes.” Maybe I should’ve got some tips from Gia about what to say. She knows Sara from school. She’s a woman. I bet she never loses the ability to speak on a first date.
Gently, Sara takes the flowers and holds them to her nose. “How did you know I loved daisies?”
“I didn’t. They reminded me of you.”
She hesitates. “That’s… really sweet, Romeo.”
My heart beams like someone stuck the sun inside my chest and poked holes in it to let the light out. I can smell her perfume, sweet and faintly floral, not like she doused herself in it before she left the salon, but like it’s unique to her.
“You put them through the ringer though.”
She gestures at the stems, and I notice for the first time that I somehow managed to mangle them in my fist. Fuck.
“I…” I don’t know what to say. I’ve always been too clumsy, too strong for my own good. Ham-fisted, my mom called it. Bull in a china shop.
I’m not good for delicate, pretty things.
I’m not good for her.
“Sorry,” I grunt. “I can replace them.”
God, this is already going badly. Maybe I should just cut my losses and run even though Gia will give me hell for it. I turn to go, but Sara’s gentle hand on my wrist stops me.
“Give me five minutes. I’ll trim the ends and get these into some water. They needed to be cut down anyway to stay fresh. You just helped the process along.” She gives me a small smile.
I watch her go into the shop. My heart slams against my chest. Every minute she’s gone is torture.
What if she’s asking her coworkers to make an excuse for her?
Did I scare her away? Is she terrified of someone who looks like me, someone big enough to crush her like a handful of leaves?
Maybe she’s waiting for me to leave before she comes back out.
I promised Gia that I wouldn’t, but I fucked up.
An eternity later, when my head is reeling with the should I go or should I stay debate, she comes back. She puts her handbag over her shoulder and grins. “Okay. Sorbet?”
I still have no idea what the fuck sorbet is, but I’m assuming ice cream places have it for people with a similar condition. “Follow me,” I say.
She takes a step and holds out her hand.
I wrap my fingers around hers, and when I do, electricity travels along my arm, down my spine, and settles in my loins. Fuck. Double fuck when I feel the bulge growing inside my pants. She’ll think I’m some kind of pervert. She’ll take one look and run for her life, and who could blame her?
I focus on her hand in mine, tiny, fragile as a bird, and every instinct in me forgets what’s going on inside my pants, and instead, wants to protect her with my life.
This is the kind of feeling I understand.
I can keep her safe. I can fight for her if I have to.
I can destroy any fucker who tries to make her life anything less than perfect.
“Let’s go, big guy,” she murmurs.
People have commented on that stuff my whole life. I’m too big. Too rough. Too awkward.
But from Sara? It feels like a compliment.