4. Pretend You’re Mine
MICHELA
4
I’ve never ridden in a limousine before.
I expected black leather seats, red-carpeted floors, and a disco ball. Instead, the beige interior, with two folded suede blankets tucked under a bar holding top-shelf liquor, speaks of luxury and sophistication.
The space comfortably accommodates Corrado’s long legs and mine as I sit across from him. Since he’s sitting with his legs open the way men who dominate their space often do, I press my knees together and cross my legs at the ankles, the way I saw Kate Middleton do once during an interview. I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs, then fold my hands in my lap.
Corrado scoots toward the bar and examines the bottles, finds something that might be wine, and pours two glasses.
He offers me one.
“Thank you, but I can’t drink,” I say.
“You can’t, or you won’t?”
I think about the answer. “Can’t.” Maybe both.
“Not even one glass?”
I shake my head. “My mom started with one glass.” Then I pinch my lips. “Sorry. TMI.”
He sets both glasses on the side, then searches for something else. Now he finds something darker, perhaps a whiskey. He pours it neat, drinks it, then decants one more. This one, he sips.
I wonder why he didn’t take the whiskey in the first place. Perhaps he was trying to share something with me. It shows good manners, which makes me think he’s a gentleman, even if he has an edge. Even if he’s a made man, a member of the ruling Sicilian family my brother once mentioned to me. I’m pretty good at remembering stories and names.
This is why I don’t ask what he does for a living, although even if I did, I doubt I’d get an honest answer. But I should start a conversation with him because I must ask about my house-sitting job. I need to know where I stand with it now that he’s arrived and the house isn’t empty anymore.
“Where are you going?” The moment it comes out of my mouth, it sounds rude and intrusive.
Judging by his raised eyebrow, he feels the same way.
“Sorry. Not my business.”
“The Three Cardinals.”
“That sounds nice.” I toy with the hem of my dress. “Is it a club?”
“A hotel.”
I nod. “Sweet.” I start picking at the ends of my hair. “About my car…”
“What about it?”
“I parked at the curb. It was perfectly legal.” I watch him, hoping he’ll ask questions, show me he’s interested in what happened after I left the apartment.
When all I get is a gaze over the rim of his glass, I exhale deeply and continue. “They towed my car so that the limo could park in its place.”
“That’s terrible. Did you tell the towing people you were just leaving?”
“I did. I mean, I tried. But my shoes were upstairs. I went back for them, but my key card doesn’t work after eleven, so I couldn’t get in. Then my mom called, the guy I’m trying not to date called, then my mom again, and while I was explaining why I was so late coming home from the baby shower, I was also arguing with the men towing the car.”
“The guy you’re trying not to date,” Corrado repeats. “That is one of the gentlest ways I’ve ever heard someone refer to a guy they dumped.”
“I haven’t dumped him. We haven’t even dated.”
“But he thinks you dated,” Corrado concludes.
“It’s complicated.” I wish I hadn’t said anything. “Can we get back to my car?”
Corrado takes a moment, then says, “Not yet.” He sips his drink, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners, telling me how much he’s enjoying this. “So he’s not your boyfriend?”
“He’s…someone who keeps asking me out after we went out two times. I’m avoiding him.”
“Why don’t you tell him to get lost?”
“Because I can’t.”
“Is it a can’t like you can’t drink, or is it you won’t?”
“He won’t take it well.” Tino would get mad for sure. Avoiding him is best.
Corrado taps his glass. “Does he have a name?”
His tone and the way he tried to sound innocent reminds me of someone near and dear to me. My twin, who’s serving time because of me. I shake my head.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Corrado says. “That’s your business.”
I change the subject. “How about you? Any ladies waiting for you at the hotel?”
“I hope not.”
His answer makes me smile. “Are you single?” flies out my mouth. It’s followed by an unexpected fluttering in my heart as I anticipate this man’s answer. I can’t take it back, so I just swallow.
“I’m always single,” he says after a while.
“Seriously?”
He nods. “As serious as a family feud.”
“How come you don’t date?” We’re cruising through Manhattan’s wealthiest district. This means the ride is almost over. After we drop him off, the driver will take me home.
“I didn’t say I don’t date. I said I’m always single.”
“But you go on dates?”
Corrado finishes his drink, then studies his glass. “Not quite, no.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He shrugs. “You don’t have to.”
I clear my throat and open the conversation again. “Since the driver doesn’t know where I live, I presume you get dropped off first?”
“About that…” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “Come here.” He crooks his finger, inviting me into his space.
I meet him halfway.
Warm breath brushes my earlobe. “I would very much enjoy an evening with you. What do you say? Join me for the party?”
Stunned, I rear back, waiting for him to laugh, to say he’s joking. I don’t think he is.
Corrado lifts an eyebrow. “Did you hear what I asked you?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Tino won’t like it.”
Corrado smiles wide, and dimples form on his cheeks. It’s the smile of a male lion who just saw a dainty gazelle. When he asked for a name, I wouldn’t give it to him, so he drew it out of me somehow. This man should come with a warning label.
“I’m single,” he continues. “It occurs to me my attendance tonight might be perceived as a gesture I don’t wish to make.”
“What kind of a gesture?”
“The uncle of the birthday girl whose party we’re crashing might interpret it as a sign that I’m interested in her. And the father of her best friend might think I came for his daughter. You can help me with this delicate situation. In return, I’ll take care of your car.”
“And my house-sitting job?”
He purses his lips. “If you play your role well, I’m certain you will house-sit for a long time yet. Now, will you come with me?”
I bite my lip. “If I’m gone all night, my mom will worry.” My mom won’t know I haven’t gone home, but I can’t let him think nobody cares about me anymore. If he dumped me in a ditch, people wouldn’t notice I was missing for days.
“You won’t be gone all night. Unless…” A glint in his eye tells me where his thoughts took him, and I blush at his suggestive words.
“I don’t sleep with guys on first dates.”
“It’s not a date.”
“You know what I mean.” I wish I could be as careless as some of the women in the movies, but I’m not. I need emotions to sleep with someone, and I need to feel like the guy wants me as much as I want him. But since I can’t seem to meet nice guys, I haven’t been sexually active in a while.
The limo stops, and I turn to view the hotel’s entrance. Surprisingly, we’re on the side, and the entrance is a golden double door with a coiled serpent engraved on it. The place looks deserted.
“Wait here.” Corrado exits and comes around to open my door.
I unfold from the limo, and he gives me a once-over, his gaze lingering on my breasts. My girls are nice, and the fact I’m happy he noticed makes me uneasy. My internal alarms are trying to warn me not to play with this made man, but he feels like iron to my magnet.
Besides, when he said he doesn’t date and he’s always single, he was upfront about his intentions toward me. All he’s asking for is a single night. I can play in his sandbox for one night.
“The gray pantyhose dims your warm appearance. Get rid of it.”
“You want me to strip right out here?”
He nods.
Okay, then. I pull down the side of the pantyhose on my right hip next to the limo and then slide it down my legs, kicking off my heels as I go. “That’s too bad, because gray is my favorite color.” I throw the pantyhose back into the limo.
He offers me his elbow, and I catch it as I slip my heels back on. “The morally gray variants, I’m sure.”
We start walking toward the door. “You’re funny.”
“It comes and goes.”
“For as long as your temper holds, I’m fine.”
Clearly caught off guard by my light comment, which was not so light, Corrado pauses before the door. “You don’t have to worry about my temper.”
“But there is something I should worry about, isn’t there?” I gulp, feeling like I’m crossing over to the dark side and there’s no going back.
“You should worry about the indecent thoughts I harbor toward you.”
“I can live with those.” Oh God, I’m flirting.
“Good.” He starts up the steps, but I tug his arm.
“Wait. What do I have to do?”
“Pretend you’re mine.”