6. Vito
6
VITO
“You’re engaged?” Cassie’s friend’s mouth drops open.
“I told you that I was serious about marriage, amore mio dolce,” I continue, focusing on Cassie. “But I appreciate that without a ring you might not have understood.”
I’ve called her that a million times in my head, and the affectionate expression slips out naturally. She looks so cute in my jacket, and seeing her wearing my clothes soothes all my protective instincts that went haywire when I saw her in that dress so small it could be a vest. Damn it, I want to be the only one who sees those beautiful legs.
“Engaged…” Drawls a familiar voice behind me. “This is news to me too, brother.”
Sev.
Cassie looks between the two of us, and I grit my teeth. Why the hell didn’t I murder my youngest brother anytime between five minutes ago and forty years ago? He’s nothing but trouble.
“Lovely to meet you.” He flashes Cassie a calculating smile.
“Come and dance with me.” I snatch up her hand before she can say anything.
“Oh-okay,” she stammers as I practically drag her away.
The possessive beast in me is wild with the need to have her alone.
“Sort the music. Something slow and classic,” I order in an undertone as we pass one of my men.
In the knot of dancers on the wooden floor, Cassie stands paralysed, almost cowering. A scared little fawn.
I draw her to me, wrapping one arm around her waist and shifting her hand in mine until we’re close-dancing. I ignore the style of the music and just dance to the off-beat. She looks up, her soft blue eyes meeting mine, expression confused even as she follows my lead perfectly. Like she’s made for me.
Then her gaze flits to the side nervously. “They’re all watching.”
“Better give them something to see, then.” I’m only too happy to, leaning down to murmur in her ear. “Fiancée.”
“Oh god.” She ducks her chin with embarrassment. “I didn’t know you were a white knight,” she whispers back. “Thank you.”
“Not at all.” If she only knew how black my soul is. And I’m a bad boss. The worst. Her accusation echoes in my head. I push it away. All that matters is that I’m here for her, and whatever she said, she hasn’t refused my help.
She sneaks a look to the side, and it unsettles her rhythm, sending her left as I move right, and she cringes. “I can’t dance old-fashioned ballroom style.”
“Look at me.” She obeys and I smile. “Follow my lead.” I lift my arm to guide her into an underarm turn, which makes her splutter with laughter. I love to see her spark back.
“Like you did,” she points out. “Playing along with my lie. Dancing with the girl covered in flavoured vodka.”
“Is that what the scent is? Cherry? I love fruit salad.” Actually, all I can smell is her vanilla scent, stronger now she’s near me. I want to gobble her up.
That coaxes a smile from her, but it sours. “Lending the loser your jacket.”
I guide her hand to my shoulder, hold her back tight, lean her into a low dip, and growl into her ear, “Don’t talk about yourself that way.”
And by the time she’s upright again, she’s flushed and when I take her hand and cover it with mine on my chest, she blinks like she’s never seen me before. And perhaps she hasn’t.
The thing about me being a bad boss has hit painfully close to the truth, and her saying I’m her boyfriend has unleashed something that I haven’t allowed out in a long time. Maybe not since I was a kid in London with my triplet brothers.
“The jacket looks better on you than me,” I add, and she presses her lips together, hiding a smile. She’s so beautiful. I wish I knew how to tell her that.
“This isn’t how you dance to this sort of music, you know.” Then her eyes go wide as the music seamlessly fades into a slow song that you absolutely do dance like this to, and I lead her into another underarm turn, then another, until she’s giggling despite herself.
Over her shoulder, I catch the eye of Tony as he backs away from the DJ booth, pocketing his wallet. We exchange nods before I look back down at Cassie.
“Do people always do what you want them to?” she asks.
I smile wryly, and think of Sev, Rafe, and her. She doesn’t always do what I want, or we wouldn’t be pretending that we were engaged. “I wish they did.”
“But you can magically change the tune to suit you?” She says it like it’s a puzzle, but lets me lead her, moving with me. And for the first time in a long, long time, I’m at peace.
This is where she belongs: in my arms, our bodies almost touching.
“This sort of dancing makes it easier to talk. And we needed to, don’t you think?” I don’t understand why my power, or what I decide we dance to, is a big deal. There are actually important things, like how can I ensure she’s more than a one-night fiancée?
“Ah. Yeah.” She ducks her head and mutters, “Sorry.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I hold my breath.
“No,” she whispers, gaze sliding away.
The pure jealousy eases a bit and air expands my lungs again.
“Why did you make one up?” I don’t quite ask why she described him as being precisely like me, but we’ll get to that.
“There was a man bothering me,” she says, and my hand tightens on her waist.
“That won’t be a problem again,” I swear. Mainly because I suspect he’s already dead. Sev hasn’t got much patience, and I asked him to deal with the man who was standing too close to Cassie. But even if Sev was uncharacteristically merciful, he made my girl uncomfortable and that’s a death wish. Doesn’t matter that he didn’t know she’s mine.
Well, alright. He might survive with a maiming, I reflect as Cassie and I move together, completely in sync. He gave me the perfect excuse to be close to the woman I love.
“Okay. So how long have I been your boyfriend?”
“A month,” she admits miserably, focusing on my top button.
I can’t help but smile. A month. All the time I’ve known her. I can live with that. “And I guess we’ve been engaged since yesterday.”
I need to get her a ring. One with a big diamond that says what I can’t put into words: I want this to be real, whatever the cost.
“You don’t have to do this. I might just go home. This isn’t my scene really.”
I ignore the comment about not being her fake fiancé, because there’s no way in hell I’m giving that up now. I am as committed to our lie as a five-year-old saying they haven’t eaten chocolate cake when they have chocolate smeared across their cheeks.
“Why are you here then?” We continue dancing and it’s so obviously a prelude to how well she’ll fit me when I make love to her, my cock is getting chubby.
“I wanted to…” She catches her lower lip in her teeth. “Maybe try and meet someone.”
“Anyone caught your eye?” My tone is light, but I hope she says no for everyone’s sake.
She shakes her head and my chest eases. I am a bastardo in truth, because I’m glad she won’t be happy with another man, at least for now. I can’t have her because she’s too young and sweet, but I can indulge in our fake engagement.
“And now you’re engaged,” I point out.
Her smile is rueful. “That was really kind of you. But why are you even here?”
It’s my turn to slip my gaze away, and sweep her into a spin to hide while I think. I consider lying, but settle for a half-truth.
“Because you messaged me on your Friday night off, and it sounded like you needed help.”
I leave out the part about missing her, wishing for any excuse to see her, and wanting her in my life for more than work. I don’t say that I love her with the whole of my sorry excuse for a soul.
“I’m sorry I interrupted your evening. And your brother’s.”
I snort. “Sev doesn’t deserve your sympathy. He’s enjoying himself.”
We both glance across to the bar where my brother has his phone out and is pointedly ignoring Cassie’s friends, who are trying to get his attention.
“I almost wish I’d seen Julie’s face when you said you were my fiancé. I was too shocked to enjoy it fully.”
“It was quite a moment.” That I also missed, because I only have eyes for Cassie. “Now we have our story straight, do you want to fully enjoy proving her wrong?”
The way she bites her lip and gets this naughty little smile tells me all I need to know. She’d be such a perfect mafia boss’ wife, with that vengeful streak. Moreover, I’m increasingly aroused by dancing with a girl half my age, so perhaps some acting to allow her to revel in being right, rather than tempting me, would be a good idea. I haven’t forgotten about her stained dress under my jacket, either.
“Gloating allowed,” I tell her, and I keep my hand on her waist, guiding her back to the bar.
“Wait, what should I call you?” she hisses as we get near.
Husband. “Vito.”
Cassie’s so-called friends turn curious and slightly fearful stares at us as soon as we’re within range. I ignore them.
“On your phone again, Sev?” I greet my brother. “I thought you didn’t approve.”
“Vaffanculo,” he says ironically, flicking the screen blank and shoving it into his pocket.
“Is that Italian? What does that mean?” Cassie asks.
“It’s a brotherly expression of love,” I say dryly.
“The closest translation is ‘go fuck yourself,’” Sev tells her.
Cassie’s friends greet her at a pitch thankfully not audible because I’m too old and not a dog.
Joking, sadly it is. I internally debate whether it would be unacceptable to kill them, and decide that unfortunately, it’s Cassie’s decision, not mine. I’ll offer to get rid of them as a wedding present.
“So how long have you two been together?” One of her friends asks.
“I uh.” Cassie looks terrified. “About… I mean…”
“A month.” My tone is firm.
“And where did you meet?” Sev looks as innocent as the choir girl he lost his virginity to many years ago. He knows something is up, and is tormenting me.
Cassie looks up at me in panic.
We really should have discussed this instead of flirting, and I clench my jaw. “Looking for dating tips, Sev?”
“I’m just interested in my big brother’s life.” He’s practically polishing his halo. “You’ve never had any woman you talked about while you were in Milan. Then, the minute you’re back in London, you’re engaged.”
“It is very odd you’ve never mentioned your boyfriend before,” Cassie’s friend adds. That bitch looks far too happy that Cassie is shrinking down.
Fine. They want evidence? That suits me.
“They don’t believe us, amore mio dolce,” I murmur. “It’s time for show, not tell.”
I slip my arm around Cassie’s waist and pull her to me. My instinct is to pause and look into her eyes before I lower my head.
I don’t. If we were engaged, this wouldn’t be our first kiss. I would kiss Cassie often, thoroughly, and until her lower leg kicked up like in a black-and-white movie. I’d kiss her until her lips were plump and red, and then I’d kiss her everywhere else.
But for now, one kiss.
I’ll take the kiss I’m surely owed.
After all, Cassie Meadows is my fiancée.