Chapter 19
The conversation got a little lighter again after that.
They discussed their favorite foods (shrimp fajita quesadillas for her, pasta ‘ncasciata for him, which, she’d learned, was oven-baked pasta, layered with eggplant, cheese, and salami) and colors (orange for her, black for him because, duh), as well as their childhood career aspirations (famous singer for her, even though she couldn’t carry a tune to save her life, professional soccer player for him).
“What’s your most embarrassing childhood moment?
” she asked. “Mine was in fourth grade when I forgot my line in the school holiday play, got nervous, and instead of asking the teacher what came next, confidently asked the audience if they knew octopuses have three hearts. The kids called me Professor Lame-o for the rest of the year.”
He chuckled. “I don’t get embarrassed.”
“Really? Never? Like, you never, I don’t know, got a hard-on in the middle of math class or something?”
“Why would a hard-on embarrass me? I have a hard-on right now just listening to you talk.” He shrugged, his smile suddenly looking all kinds of dirty. “I’m not embarrassed.”
She might’ve said something witty or flirty back, but she seemed to have swallowed her tongue.
That’s when she realized she’d consumed almost an entire bottle of wine on her own, and she should’ve stopped two glasses ago. Even though she’d practically eaten a loaf of bread, plus her entrée, plus dessert, she had definitely passed her alcohol limit.
She reached for her water, misjudged the distance, and somehow managed to nearly fall off her chair.
Shit. Now she had a new most embarrassing moment to discuss in the future.
Nico was kneeling at her side, propping her up before she even noticed he’d gotten out of his chair. “Are you alright?”
Phew. He looked really good kneeling at her feet like that. It was a little disorienting.
He smirked up at her. “Happy to kneel before you whenever you’d like. You need only ask. But I need to make sure you’re not ill first, yes?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“Yes. But don’t worry about that now. What do you need?”
A time machine perhaps? Something to take her back to the beginning of their meal so she could tell Gia she’d like tea instead of wine? “Fresh air, maybe?”
He stood up and shot off a quick text before sliding an arm around her. Then that muscle-y, show-y bastard lifted her up—with one arm!—and pulled her to his side so that he was supporting at least 80% of her weight. “Enzo is two blocks away. We can wait outside until he gets here.”
“How are you not tipsy?” she grumbled. “You drank way more than I did.”
He chuckled. “I’m Sicilian. I drank more wine as a child than I drank tonight.”
“I’m sorry if my complaining makes me seem ungrateful for tonight,” she said as they made their way to the door. “It was a really fantastic date, even though I’m a total lightweight. Thank you for the dinner and for all the fancy clothes.”
Nico frowned. “Tonight was the bare minimum you deserve. It pains me that this kind of evening hasn’t been commonplace in your life.”
She snorted. “Commonplace? I never got so much as gas station flowers from my husband.”
“Why would gas stations sell flowers?” he asked, sounding so genuinely perplexed that she grinned.
“The fact that you don’t know the answer to that is crazy attractive.”
He smiled down at her. “You’re an easy woman to please, River Lang.”
“You’re calling me easy before you’ve even seen my new lingerie,” she said with a giggly snort-laugh. “You’d really think I was easy if you’d seen it.”
Of course, she hadn’t meant to say that. Sober River never would have. But the way his expression shifted and his eyes darkened made Drunk River super glad she’d let that little bit of info slip.
He let out a sound that could only be described as growl-had-a-baby-with-a-purr and tightened his grip on her. “Do you intend to let me see all your new purchases?”
She should say no. This was a near-total stranger who just happened to be a mob boss. Sure, he was also her fiancé. But still, the answer should be no. She should protect her heart and not get any more attached to him than she already was. “Yes.”
D’oh!
That had most definitely been her body, not her brain, that’d answered that question.
Nico lowered his head like he might kiss her.
Oh, Lord help her, if he kissed her, she would not be held responsible for what she did next, especially because she thought it’d most likely involve ripping her dress in half like she was a pro wrestler to show him her fancy new thong as quickly as possible.
But thankfully (or maybe woefully…she wasn’t sure), he stopped just short of touching his dangerously kissable lips to hers. “When you’re sober,” he whispered, “I’ll take you up on that offer.”
Then he crashed his mouth down on hers and kissed the ever-loving hell out of her.
A moan ripped its way out of her throat as his tongue tangled with hers.
He tasted like heat and heaven and sin all rolled into one.
And the answering growl he let out rocked her to her core.
She’d never felt so wanted in her whole life, and it was…
powerful. Was this what it felt like to have power?
If so, she could see why Nico had fought so hard for it.
But just when she was ready to drag him back into the restaurant, rip her clothes off, and beg him to rail her on their table amidst empty plates, glasses, and bread baskets (sobriety be damned!), a strange clicking sound distracted her. She knew that sound. She’d heard it before. It was…
“Hand over your wallet. Now.”
Ah, yes. That clicking was a gun cocking. If she had a dollar for every time she’d heard that sound lately…well, she’d have two dollars, which didn’t seem like a lot, but it was weird that it’d happened twice.
With an annoyed sigh, Nico pulled River behind him, putting his body between her and the gunman. River peeked around his broad shoulders to get a look at the guy.
He was unremarkable in every way. Average height, average build, nondescript features, generically cut brown hair. Even his hooded sweatshirt and jeans were boring.
Only the gun made him remotely interesting.
“Because I’m a good mood,” Nico said in a voice so cold it made River shiver, “I’ll give you a chance to walk away.”
The would-be robber paused. Obviously, this was not a response he typically received when he pulled a gun on someone.
But he recovered his wits quicker than River would’ve.
He jerked the gun in the direction of River’s hand where she was clutching Nico’s sleeve and said, “And that ring.” Then he craned his neck to one side and licked his lips as his gaze slithered down the length of her body.
“Come to think of it, I’ll take her, too.
If your mouth is as good as it looks, sweetheart, maybe I’ll let your boyfriend here live. ”
River pulled back in revulsion. What the hell was with all these jerkoffs lately that wanted to sexually harass and/or sex traffic her?
There was a loaded pause on Nico’s end before he muttered, “And now I’m no longer in a good mood.”
Now, River didn’t know much about fights.
She’d never been one to sit down and watch boxing or MMA matches.
She didn’t even enjoy action movies that much.
Rom coms and period dramas were her jam.
She had enthusiastically watched John Wick (after the first fourteen minutes, because FUCK movies that kill off dogs), mostly because Keanu Reeves had held a special place in her heart since Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.
But based on her admittedly tiny knowledge of such matters, she imagined what happened to their attempted robber (who she was going to refer to in her head from now on as Harvey Weinstein because he was just gross) next was fit for any top-tier action movie.
First, Nico’s fist shot out so fast it was nearly a blur and smashed into the Weinstein’s throat. As the guy gagged and stared at Nico with wide, stunned eyes, Nico neatly snatched the gun out of Weinstein’s hand and pistol-whipped him across the face with it.
Before he had time to recover from that assault, Nico kicked out, smashing his foot into Weinstein’s knee. There was a sound akin to a dry twig crackling in a fire about a second before he dropped to the ground, wailing, clutching his ruined knee.
Nico stared down at him for a moment before saying, “I gave you a chance to walk away,” he said dispassionately. “You brought this on yourself.” Then he pocketed the gun and glanced at her over his shoulder. “Are you alright?”
She didn’t answer immediately. She was too busy watching the gunman writhe in pain on the ground. “That was—”
“Who gives a fuck about her?” the robber wailed. “You broke my fucking knee!”
Nico gave him a swift kick to the gut that was hard enough to lift him off the ground a half inch or so. “Stay quiet, and don’t even think about her.” He glanced back at her. “Fiorellino, answer me, please. Are you alright?”
River could only stare down at Weinstein and whisper, “Did you know everyone has unique kneecaps? They can be used as biometrics.”
Nico snorted. “Not his. Not anymore, anyway.”
“That’s not fucking funny, man,” the guy wailed. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Nico merely shrugged, completely unrepentant. “Consider yourself lucky I didn’t smash both your kneecaps. But keep talking and that might change.”
Wisely, he clamped his lips shut.
That’s when Enzo pulled up in the SUV. Hanging his head out the window, his gaze flicked down at the fallen robber, then back up to Nico. “One of Alexi’s guys?”
Nico rolled his eyes. “Doubt it. Pretty sure he’s just an idiot. But check his ID and have Ren run it just to be sure.”
Enzo made quick work of snagging Weinstein’s wallet and shooting off a text. “Want me to get rid of him now?”
Something told River that getting “rid” of him would not include taking him out for ice cream.