3. Seven
As always, Mama’s was packed. All outdoor tables were filled, and a small line of people waited at the door.
Levi said it was always busy like this as it was one of the few neighborhood restaurants left with reasonably priced good food.
Enzo skipped the line, nodding politely, then held the door for Seven.
He gave the people waiting an apologetic look, even as he tried not to focus on Enzo’s hand burning a hole through his lower back.
He hated how much he’d missed his touch.
Inside was equally busy. Three waitresses made their way through packed tables, all wearing black pants, white button-downs, and green aprons, their dark hair pulled into ponytails that swayed as they hustled from person to person, taking orders and delivering trays topped with steaming piles of food.
Seven’s stomach growled loudly at the smell of garlic and tomatoes. He loved Mama’s cooking. Even though she no longer did the cooking at the restaurant, she’d invited Levi and his friends—Seven included—to eat at the restaurant last Monday after his first successful night shift alone on the floor.
Seven looked around, taking in the lush green plants hanging from the ceiling and climbing down the walls, and the maroon tablecloths and cozy lanterns at the center of each table.
At night, after hours, the atmosphere had seemed cozy.
Homey, even. During the day, it was busy enough to trigger Seven’s anxiety.
He was already on edge from his brief interaction with Enzo in his office.
First, learning his brother was a cop, then having the man destroy him mentally.
He’d forgotten how intense he was. Seven still didn’t understand how it happened.
He’d gone in there determined to play it cool and keep up his usual cocky persona.
But the moment he saw Enzo, it was like his brain melted down like a nuclear reactor and he became this needy pathetic creature all over again.
He didn’t understand why his body reacted like it did whenever he saw the older man.
Maybe if he interacted with him on days when he wasn’t an emotional mess, he could maintain some level of cool.
Most people thought Seven was cool…polished, poised, articulate.
His law professors praised him and they hated everyone.
Jericho trusted him—the Mulvaneys, too. They thought of Seven as a responsible, hard-working member of society.
The only person who saw Seven whenever he felt like an emotional loser was Enzo.
And his sperm donor. But it was usually said donor who had him feeling that way in the first place.
Just like last night. His father was out of jail on bail, and had used a burner phone to call and guilt Seven, telling him he was a punk for leaving his old man in the clink instead of coming to bail him out.
Usually, that stuff rolled off him, but then his mother had called, asking Seven to go easy on him.
To give him a chance. He’d lost it, shouting at his mother in a way he never did.
He could hear the tremor in her voice when they hung up, even after he’d apologized.
He would never understand why his mother was so content to be part of his father’s harem, sharing him with a dozen other women, letting him put her on the shelf and dust her off whenever he felt like it.
He was so in his head, he didn’t realize they were entering the back of the house until Enzo held a swinging door open for him.
He stepped through and found himself standing in the middle of a kitchen.
The back was just as busy as the front. Three men in chef’s uniforms bustled about, paying them no mind, shouting out orders and giving the servers a hard time.
The only one who seemed to notice their arrival was a little old man loading dishes.
“Who’s this?” he called, curiosity etched across his face.
“Mind your business, old man,” Enzo quipped, earning a bold laugh that reverberated through the tiled space.
The hand at Seven’s lower back kept propelling him forward until they stood at an open office door.
Francesca Conti sat at a desk in the middle of what appeared to be organized chaos.
Her steel gray hair cascaded down her shoulders, white strands artfully framing her face.
Her black framed glasses sat perched on her nose as she worked, unaware of her observers.
When Enzo rapped his knuckles on the door frame, she looked up in surprise.
She quickly pushed her glasses up like a headband, then stood, giving Enzo a suspicious look before coming towards them.
She wore a flowy cream-colored dress and loads of chunky jewelry that his mother would have loved.
Given the ages of her many children, she was likely in her fifties or sixties, but she was easily one of the most stunning women Seven had ever seen.
When she stopped before them, she craned her neck up to look at Enzo. “To what do I owe this impromptu visit, patatino?” she asked, her Italian accent almost musical. “You never visit me midday. And why do you have this gorgeous baby with you?”
Enzo pressed his hand harder into Seven’s back. “I just thought I’d treat him to lunch.”
“Is this a date? Oh, is he interning with you at the firm?” Before either of them could explain themselves, she continued, “Seven, whatever the reason, don’t believe a word he tells you.”
“Mama,” Enzo said, looking exasperated.
She scoffed. “What? You brought him here and thought I wouldn’t tell him how unworthy you are of this sweet boy, even in a work capacity?”
“I just wanted to see you,” Seven lied, giving her his best smile. When they both looked at him, amused, warmth flooded his face. “You’d make a far better lunch date than this one ever will. You’re prettier, too.”
She beamed at him, cupping his face in a way that was far too similar to what her son had done less than an hour ago…and two weeks ago. But she wasn’t attempting to emotionally devastate him like Enzo had. She just turned his head this way and that like she was inspecting a piece of art.
“You’re so very handsome,” she said, like she was marveling over his beauty and not the other way around. “But you’re too young for my degenerate son. Find someone your own age. I can help you. I have many children, several better suited to your age.”
Seven snickered, looking at Enzo smugly. “Oh, yeah? Which ones?”
She grinned, delighted. “You like only boys or you like girls, too?”
“Sadly, just boys.” He sighed, then glanced over at Enzo, looking him up and down. “But only ones who are nice to me.”
She sucked her teeth, looking at Enzo with exasperation. “Then look elsewhere, sweet boy. Before it’s too late.”
“Mama,” Enzo admonished.
Seven’s mouth went dry as Enzo’s hand slipped beneath the back of his sweater, his wicked fingers teasing across the waistband of his pants.
“Ignore her. She has no room to talk about age. My father was fourteen years older than her and my stepfather is ten years younger. She’s just trying to get a rise out of me. ”
His mother scoffed, dropping her hands. “Lies,” she said to Seven. “I’m trying to save you from my son and his deviant lifestyle. He collects expensive toys that are way out of his price range and then he breaks them. He’s never appreciated what he’s been given, even when he’s clearly unworthy.”
Seven’s eyes went wide, and something curdled in his stomach.
How many other boys had Enzo brought here to parade in front of his mother?
Was it only boys? Did he get some kind of kick out of it?
Was he trying to embarrass Seven? Did she know they’d slept together?
Why did it feel like he’d been kicked in the chest?
“Mama,” Enzo said again, this time with a sharp tinge of warning in his voice.
She just laughed like she was happy to have gotten under his skin, then slapped him on the side of his face with just enough force to not be a caress. She then turned her attention back to Seven, narrowing her gaze, slipping her glasses on and off again. “You know this, though, don’t you, bellino?”
Seven’s gaze darted to Enzo, then to his mother once more. “I’m learning quickly.”
“Mm,” she said, mouth flat as she gave her son a withering look. “You seem like a smart boy. Run while you can.”
Enzo gave his mother a brilliant smile that she did not return, then said, “I swear, I’m innocent,” he lied.
“I thought he might be looking for a…mentor. I invited him to lunch to, uh…hammer out the details.” Enzo cleared his throat.
“I thought it would be a good idea to let you know he’s going to be around more often. ”
Seven’s head jerked towards him, eyes going wide. When he looked back at Mama, she seemed equally caught off guard by his statement.
“Is that so?” she asked, studying her son carefully. “Well, in that case, I look forward to seeing you more often, bellino.”
Enzo shrugged, fingers caressing up Seven’s spine in a way that made him want to squirm. “That depends on how lunch goes.”
She gave her son another hard stare. “Well, then. Have fun hammering out your…details.” Before they could leave, she grasped Seven’s face once more, eyeing him critically. “You should be careful,” she warned her son. “I might just make you keep this one. Imagine my beautiful grandbabies.”
Enzo snorted. “I’m not sure my keeping him would ensure you get grandchildren with his DNA, Mama.”
“That’s why I should set him up with one of your sisters,” she said casually, waving her hand.
This time, it was Enzo who seemed irritated. “Let’s go before my mother tries to call your mother to arrange a marriage.”
“Call me on your way home from work. I have some questions only you can answer,” she said, then turned sharply, dress twirling around her ankles as she returned to her desk.