Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
Milo
The aroma of homemade sauce flowed out of the kitchen and engulfed the back room.
The scents of garlic and onions mixed with fresh basil and oregano brought me back to a time and place that I tried not to go to very often.
Some memories were too brutal to recall, but Franchi’s Bistro had always been my favorite restaurant growing up.
There were many dinners filled with laughter and love with my family stored in my plagued mind. We celebrated birthdays and special occasions here from the time I was a baby, but we stopped coming after that car bomb took everything from us.
“Milo.” Old Jojo Franchi approached our secluded table in the corner, gripping his hand-carved walking stick. “I’m always honored when you come.”
“The honor is all mine.” I shook his hand, being careful not to squeeze his arthritic fingers. “You have the best sausage and broccoli rabe in the city.”
“You flatter me.” He turned his attention to Sable. “Who is this lovely girl?”
“This is Sable,” I said.
“Sable?” When Mr. Franchi took her hand and gently kissed her knuckles, she blushed. “What an interesting name.”
“It comes from my grandmother’s maiden name of Sabella.” She glanced at me before giving Mr. Franchi her undivided attention.
How didn’t I know she had Italian roots? Because you never asked her.
I sipped my vodka as Sable inadvertently charmed the old man with her dazzling smile and expressive eyes. There was still a shyness in her demeanor, but she was different from the woman I’d met in my club. She carried herself with a little more confidence as we walked through the dining area.
She even shot daggers at the hostess when we came through the doors, making sure to hold on to my arm a little tighter when the woman led us to our intimate table. Sable’s attempt to claim me aroused me, even if I wasn’t one to be possessed by anyone. I might make an exception for her.
Perhaps it was the new dress that made her feel like she belonged.
Or the trip to the salon for a fresh haircut and highlights I’d sent her on this afternoon.
When she hurried into this restaurant a few days ago, flustered and afraid, she stuck out like a sore thumb in her tattered jeans, worn sneakers, and no makeup.
I saw the remarkable woman beneath the scared exterior who stood before me stripped of dignity when she asked for my help. Her desperation intrigued me. Her need for me triggered an obsession so deep that if I wasn’t careful, it could devour both of us .
“This one is a keeper.” When Mr. Franchi patted my shoulder, I realized I had been so lost in my thoughts, I zoned out of the conversation. “I’ll send over another round of drinks.”
“Thank you.” I set my glass down. “If there is anything you ever need, you know to call me.”
“Always.” Mr. Franchi shook my hand again. “Please tell your father I said hello. I haven’t seen him in such a long time.”
“He’s been busy, but I’ll let him know you were asking for him.”
“Maybe he’ll join you and your brother on your mother’s birthday this year.” He winked. “It’s time.”
Mr. Franchi hobbled off, stopping at the bar, probably to order that refills of our drinks be sent to our table..
“He’s charming.” Sable pressed her martini glass to her lips and took a dainty sip of the lemon-flavored drink. “I take it you’ve been coming here a long time?”
“For as long as I can remember.” I glanced around at the walls adorned with pictures of Sinatra and Frankie Valli. “My mother loved it here.”
“You still celebrate her birthday here. That’s a beautiful tribute.”
“Marchello and I do. We didn’t come here for years after her death, but a few years ago, we decided it was time to stop mourning, for at least one day, and celebrate her.”
She took my hand. “Your dad doesn’t come with you?”
“He doesn’t even know we do it,” I said. “He has to grieve in his own way.”
“I can’t imagine what it must have been like for the three of you.”
“It was rough. One day we were this happy, content family with a new sibling on the way, and the next, the future was ripped from us. We were never the same.”
“A new sibling?” She squeezed my hand. “Your mother was pregnant?”
“With another son.”
“Oh, that’s… Who would do something like that to her?” The color drained from her face, leaving her with a pained expression.
“My father has many enemies.” I released her hand and picked up my glass. “I’m sure you can imagine why he’s never gotten over her death.” I finished my drink. “And why we don’t discuss it often.”
“Of course.” She took a long sip of her drink. “Whoa, this is strong.”
“It’s mixed with the housemade limoncello. Jojo concocts it himself in the wine cellar.” I laughed. “You might want to take it slow, or I’ll be forced to carry you out of here, take you home, and have my way with you.”
“Then maybe I should have another.” She bit the corner of her bottom lip. “It’s delicious.”
“Be careful.” I slipped my hand under the table and ran it along her thigh. “In my experience, the lower your inhibitions are, the more you’ll want.”
She raised her glass to me before finishing what was left.
“Keep teasing me.” I’ll give you everything, Sweet Sable.
“I’m not teasing you,” she said. “I’m just thirsty.”
I had to steer this conversation in another direction or we would leave before eating. “You’re Italian?”
“Half.”
“How didn’t I know that?”
“It’s rather surprising considering you know what kind of birth control I take. ”
“True, but I guess I didn’t have time to dig into your heritage.”
“My mother is Italian, and my father is Irish.” She motioned toward her face. “In case my hair, skin, and freckles didn’t give that away.”
“You do seem to favor that side of your family.”
“In looks only.”
Sore subject. That didn’t surprise me considering she and Chance left home at a young age and never looked back.
“My mother left when I was fifteen, so I didn’t get much of a history lesson about her family. She has two sisters who live in Delaware, and I think my mother went to them after she left my dad. We kept in touch for a few months, but once they divorced, the communication stopped.”
“And where is your father?” I already knew he still lived in Brooklyn, was remarried, and raising two step-children.
“I don’t know, probably where we left him.” She shrugged. “I didn’t look back.”
“Why?”
“My family wasn’t like yours.” She stopped talking when the server brought us another round of drinks. “Thank you.”
A server I didn’t recognize set our glasses down. Her hand shook slightly when she placed mine in front of me. I smiled at her, trying to ease her jitters, because she didn’t seem older than seventeen. She held my stare for a second before dropping her gaze to the floor and hurrying off.
“Poor kid.” I shook my head. “This is a scary place for such a young server.”
“It’s a scary place for me.” Sable ran her finger along the sugared rim of her glass and brought it to her lips. Glimpses of the first night we met flashed in my mind. “There are plenty of intimidating men in here.”
“And yet you sit next to the most intimidating one of them all.” I touched the corner of her mouth, swiping the remnants of sugar that settled there before smearing it across her lips. “Lick it off.”
“I’d rather you do it.”
The limoncello had given her a boost of confidence that made her even sexier.
“What else do you want me to do?” I leaned into her mouth and trailed the tip of my tongue along her lips. “Tell me what you want.”
“You.” She breathed against my mouth.
“I’m right here.” I slid my hand under her dress. “Do you want me to touch you?”
“Um…” She bit her lip as she gazed around the room.
“Focus on me.” I skimmed my finger along her inner thigh until I reached the edge of her panties. “Your skin is so soft.”
She closed her legs when I slipped my finger under the elastic of the lace.
“Are you teasing me again?” I sucked her bottom lip into my mouth. “Closing your legs isn’t going to stop me.”
“I don’t want you to stop.” With her tender touch, she traced her fingertips along my stubble. “I don’t ever want you to stop.”
I tangled my hand in her smooth curls, turning her head as I drove my tongue inside her mouth, tasting the zest of the lemon and the sweetness of the sugar as it mingled with the spiciness of my vodka.
“Milo,” she whispered against my lips.
“I want to take you home,” I said.
“You’re not hungry? ”
“I’m hungry for your pussy.” I swiped my finger along her slit. “That’s all I want tonight.”
“Take me home.”
I released her from my hold, chugged my drink, and then held out my hand for her, but before we could make our escape, Lucas appeared at our table.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said.
“I’m assuming it’s important?” I clasped my hands and rested my elbows on the table. “Otherwise, you would have called.”
“I have news you’re going to want to hear.”
“Sable.” I picked up her martini glass. “Take your drink and wait for me at the bar.”
“I thought we were leaving,” she said.
“I have business to discuss.” I motioned toward the bar. “I won’t be long.”
“Fine.” She slid out of her seat and took her glass from me. “Lucas.” She nodded before stalking off to the bar.
“Sorry.” Lucas took Sable’s seat.
“She’ll get over it.” After I fuck her with my tongue. “What’s the news?”
“It’s better if you see it.” He took out his phone and swiped until he found what he wanted me to see. “This is the security footage from the club taken last night.”
I held out my hand and took his phone. “What am I looking at?”
“The man entered the club a little after midnight.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “You can see he takes a seat at the bar, has a drink, and then leaves, but not before staring into the camera.”
“Diego Medina was in my club last night?” I studied the footage. “Without anyone noticing?”
“I’m the only one who has actually met him other than Marchello and his security team and they are all with him. I wasn’t there, and our guys have only seen pictures of him.”