4. Call Me By My Name
CHAPTER 4
Call Me By My Name
A NAME CAN BE A POWERFUL THING ESPECIALLY WHEN SAID IN A brEATHLESS MANNER
A fter pinning his jacket I left Mr. Costa to change back to his normal clothes. I would leave the jacket for tomorrow's to do list but was happy to have his pants at least done. The jacket just needed to be tightened in a few places. I stifled a yawn as I began putting everything away. Mr. Costa strolled out of the dressing area, typing away from his phone.
"I'll walk you to your car," he said. I nodded, too tired to form a sassy remark and in all honestly grateful. Ever since learning about the mafia I’ve felt on edge. I didn’t want to walk outside in the dark alone constantly looking into the shadows.
It didn't take long to lock the shop up. We walked towards my car in silence. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said. I opened my car door.
"Excuse me?" I said. His eyebrows shot up.
"Excuse me ?" he responded back. I pointed to my shop's door.
"Hours of operation are located on my door, in plain english and clearly states that we are closed on Sunday's," I said. He glanced over, his jaw tight.
“Well, what are you doing tomorrow?” he asked.
"I'm going to lounge around in sweats and bake bread," I said, throwing my bag into my passenger side. His tongue poked his cheek .
"I. Like. Bread," he struggled to get out. I raised an eyebrow.
"So?" I said. He rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. He nodded absentmindedly and I turned away to get into my car. I hated being ignored and I wouldn’t put up with his attitude. Mr. Costa’s hands came on either side of me, gripping the top of my car. His chest pressed against my back and I bit back a moan.
"I'll see you tomorrow at 9 with coffee. We can bake bread," he said in a low voice. I turned my head to the side, catching his gaze. A black car with tinted windows rolled up from my peripheral.
"You don't know where I live," I said through clenched teeth. The nerve of this man. His chuckle vibrated against my chest.
"Cinderella, did you forget who I am?" he said.
"What if I don't want to be alone with you?" I asked. His fingers grazed my neck, pushing my hair back and exposing my neck.
"I highly doubt that," he said as his fingers stroked my neck. I squeeze my thighs to ease the throbbing this man created. Our chests brushed against each other and he had a dark gleam in his eyes.
“Really because your cousin said I should be careful around you," I said. He shook his head.
“Luca?” he said with a frown until his eyes ignited with a playful glint. “You should be careful around us . We can be trouble,” he said.
“Double the trouble,” I said. Mr. Costa hummed and he leaned to place a chaste kiss on my cheek. My fingers twitched to bring him closer.
And without another word he walked over to the black car. Turning around he waved at me to get into her car. I rolled my eyes, slamming my car door closed. I glanced one more time at Mr. Costa.
Tomorrow, he mouthed.
He showed up at nine sharp with two coffees. He was dressed in black sweats that had no right fitting his body the way they did. Was all of his clothes custom made?
I sighed deeply. I had stayed up fixing a few things on his jacket and hemming a dress. I glanced back at my apartment as he stood silently in front of me. I was hoping he was joking about showing up. But I was a fool to not believe the words of a mafia man.
"You look better this way," I said without thinking. He smiled. An actual smile that softened his face. Even though it was small it transformed him. A small tilt of his lips had the ability to bring me to my knees. I had never had someone look at me as if I hung the moon.
I looked away. If I continued memorizing the way his eyes melted and his full lips stretched it was going to make me give in. I was not going to fall for this mafia man even if my libido was screaming at me. Seriously, I needed to buy some damn batteries.
"You're nice in the morning," he said. I rolled my eyes and stepped away from the door allowing him in. Handing me one of the coffees he strolled in. His eyes wandered around, trying to grab every detail. It was like either he was assessing my place or searching for something. The short hallway opened into a small living room. The kitchen was just off to the side, a counter separating the space.
"Nice place," he said. I grunted, sipping my coffee. My nose twitched at the taste. I had never nor ever will be a morning person. Mr. Costa spoke two sentences and it was two sentences too long. I walked past the hallway mirror and cringed at my attire. I wore an old college sweatshirt with sweatpants covered in dried paint. My cheeks were flushed and my eyes were a little swollen.
My apartment felt much smaller with him in it. He seemed to suck the air out of every space he was in. I eyed him up and down. I wonder if that was a requirement of every mafia man.
Luca didn’t really seem to give off that vibe. But he could be one of those people whose darkness hides behind his smile. I felt myself blush at the thought. These men were clouding my thoughts lately.
"How can I help?" His voice broke my train of thought. I shook my head.
"You sit there, I'll bake," I said. I had pointed to the bar stools in front of my kitchen counter.
"But I came to help," he insisted. I shook my head.
"It'll stress me out," I confessed. I couldn’t stand having another person cook next to me. Having to watch myself cook and then keep an eye on the other person was stressful. He opened his mouth to say something and I raised a finger. I glared at him and he sat down quietly.
I was quickly becoming used to bossing this man around.
We stayed in silence as I began gathering the ingredients and tools to bake bread. Before my avó had passed she had begun passing me some recipes. I always enjoyed baking bread with her the most. I opened my fridge and frowned. If I had bacon and lingui?a I could make folar but I would have to settle on regular artisan bread.
I heard shuffling from behind me. Mr. Costa had stood up. I looked up at him.
"Mr. Costa?" I said.
"I should leave you alone. You seem…comfortable," he said. My eyes widened at his statement. Now he was willing to leave me alone? I found myself chuckling at his behavior. I thought I had his type figured out but maybe there was more to him.
"And what else did you expect? Me to be shaking in my sweats because I have the big bad wolf in my kitchen?" I teased. The tips of his ears reddened and I smirked. So the big bad wolf could be flustered. Interesting. I walked over to him.
“I guess since you’re here because you forcibly invited yourself into my home which said home’s location was not given to you I’ll put you to work,” I said, placing my hands on my hips.
“Excuse me?” he said.
“You said you wanted to help. Now while I am perfectly fine at baking bread on my own there is something else you can do for me Mr. Costa,” I said. He eyed me warily which was a good thing.
My mom and avó taught me a few lessons before passing. A Portuguese woman can get anyone to do anything with the promise of food. So if this man wanted bread he was going to work for it. A rush of exhilaration coursed through my body.
“I hope you realized Ms. Silva that I am not a maid,” he hissed. While his voice may have sounded scary to anyone it had the opposite effect on me. I stood off to the side, watching him.
“If the whole mafia thing doesn’t work out you would make an excellent house cleaner. You were very thorough with my ceiling fans and I appreciate it,” I said with a pleasant smile. He leaned in until our noses brushed.
I stood staring at him in amazement. I should be scared right now. I should be terrified that a man of his nature was in my apartment.
Hell, I never gave him the address. For some reason none of that phased me. His nose twitched slightly. I smirked. I enjoyed putting a man like Mr. Costa in his place.
“I cleaned your ceiling fans, air vents and tops of your cabinets. What am I going to get in return?” he asked.
“I’m baking bread which you can take with you,” I said, nonchalantly. He let out a dark chuckle.
“Bread for cleaning? Really?” he said in disbelief. I glared at him.
“I already have one day left to make your suit. I’ve been working overtime for you. I think this is the least you can do Mr. Costa,” I said.
“I’m paying you for your service,” he pointed out.
“Yes you are because we have a professional relationship despite the fact you found my address and showed up at my apartment. Is there something else you want from me”? I asked. His eyes traveled down to my lips.
“You intrigue me…Lucia,” he said, softly. My heart rattled in my chest. My hands grew clammy and my stomach twisted. My name on his lips was like a calling card, luring me to walk on the darker side. The way he said my name was…erotic. I wanted him to say it again.
“That last thing I want is to be intriguing to someone of the Costa family,” I said. His hands clenched against the kitchen sink. Staring into his eyes, my stomach twisted .
“I cannot change where I come from the same way you cannot,” he said. I nodded.
“We come from different places,” I said, sounding almost breathless. Mr. Costa tilted his head.
“If that is what you think,” he said softly. My throat closed. I didn’t like what he was insinuating. There was a secret beneath his words. Staring into his eyes I was reminded of the questions that I had. Mr. Costa held the answers. I just needed to find a way to get them.
“What do you want in return?” I asked, caving. Clearly he was a man who didn't do anything just for the hell of it but for something in return.
“Call me Dante.”
I sat up on the kitchen counter, my eyes focused on Dante . I had been purposely calling Dante Mr. Costa to keep some form of professionalism with him. I wanted to keep a wall with him.
I watched him roll up his sleeves, exposing his tan forearms. I could faintly make out a tattoo on his right arm. An emblem of some sorts. He dipped his hands in the hot water and continued scrubbing. His hands were hard at work and I found myself fantasizing about what they could do to me.
"I didn't know what coffee you liked so I asked the barista and she suggested pumpkin spice." Dante spoke in a soft voice. “It’s in season,” he said. I smiled.
"I actually don't like pumpkin spice," I said. Dante nearly dropped the sponge.
"You've been drinking it this whole time," he pointed out, looking at me in shock.
"I actually only took one sip," I said. He sighed.
"My coffee is black. I haven't touched it yet. Heat it up and add some milk," he offered. I shook my head.
"And you?" I asked. He threw me a killer smile that stopped my heart and made me squeeze my thighs. Fuck his pretty face. This man was making the wall I constructed crumble.
"I secretly like pumpkin spice," he said. I threw back my head in a full laugh. A man who could kill secretly liked pumpkin spice coffee of all things. Every time I thought I had him peg he said something that threw me off. Dante’s eyes softened as he watched me. My cheeks grew warm as he stared at me. There was more to this bad wolf than I thought.
I stirred my new cup of coffee and smiled while Dante was busy drying dishes. His character was interesting. I could tell from our first interaction he was a man who was made of steel. He liked things done his way and he didn’t put up with anyone’s crap. He did his best to not put up with my attitude.
However, even though the man before me was dark and dangerous, there was a sweet side to him. He helped clean my fucking apartment and liked pumpkin spice coffee. While I gave him shit and bossed him around he begrudgingly did what I asked.
I took a deep breath. So much had fucking happened in such a short time. Why wasn’t I freaking out more? Dante glanced at me and winked. I flushed.
I’ve always held a fire within me and typically it was something that I tried to keep tame. I was always getting in trouble for being blunt and impulsive. But the fire Dante had rivaled my own. He ignited me in more ways than one. With him I wasn’t afraid to burn.
"Let's watch a movie," I suggested. The bread was still baking and we had time to waste until then. Dante glanced at the couch in the living room. He nodded slowly, grabbing his coffee. We both sat on opposite sides, placing space between us. This was professional right?
I grimaced. Nothing about this was professional. It’s not like I was going to work on his suit. It was my day off. Therefore there was no reason for him to be here. He was a client sitting on my couch.
I threw on a random movie knowing full well I wouldn't be able to concentrate with him there. I had too many questions in my head. It’s why my sleep schedule was even more fucked up than normal. I looked over at Dante.
He casually took up the corner of the couch, his long legs splayed out. One arm hung back. His angle was basically an invitation to cuddle. Did mafia men cuddle?
I cursed at my thoughts. He was a part of the mafia. Part of the world my av? was tangled in and kept hidden from me. I felt conflicted with what he was versus with what he continued to show me. I glanced over at him for the hundredth time.
"Something you wanna say?" His storm colored eyes were playful.
You mean do.
“Do?” he questioned. I stiffened. I hadn't realized I said it out loud. This time he adjusted himself closer to me.
“What do you wanna do?” His tone was low and playful. My heart fluttered. How many sides of him was he going to show me today? First it was his usual grumpy self, then a softer side and now a playful one. What did I want to do? I wanted to kiss him, ask him questions, and finish his suit. I blushed. Dante shifted closer.
“Come on Lucia. Tell me. What is it you want to do?” he asked again. He needed to stop saying my name goddammit. But it had been so long since I’ve been with someone.
I had an itch that needed to be scratched and it was all his stupid fault with his muscles, gray eyes and tattoos. I wanted to feel his lips glide against mine, feel his hands rough against my skin.
But that would mean giving into him, into temptation. Dante was enticing that’s for sure. I was afraid that kissing him would be the first step into his inferno and once there, there was no going back.
"From the look in your eyes I think you know," I said. He offered a crooked smile that twisted my panties.
"I want to hear you say it," he demanded. He was leaning closer this time. The movie at this point was nothing but background noise. His other hand landed on my knee, tracing circles. Even through the fabric my body was beginning to burn.
"If I say it out loud it might happen," I said. My tone is on the verge of needy and I hated that. I hated how he made me want him. He was so close I could smell his smokey pine cologne. It was making my head spin.
"Do you want it to happen?" he asked softly. His hand slowly went up my thigh. I fought the urge to roll my eyes back. It really has been so fucking long since I’ve been touched by someone that wasn’t me.
My eyes could only focus on his lips. Should I? Maybe I should give myself a break and enjoy some fun. Just forget the world and just revel in the sensation for a bit.
I stared into Dante’s eyes. They were tempting me. He wanted me to give in. His hand scorched a trail higher up on my thighs. My body trembled beneath his hand. I leaned in, following the thread that was pulling us in. But then a phone rang interrupting us. He let out a curse in Italian.
“Let me take this,” he said, standing up and heading to the kitchen. After a few hushed words he came back out. “I have to head out to handle…something,” he said. I nodded. The need to touch him disappeared like a candle being blown out. I watched Dante walk out my door to do unspeakable things.
And now I needed to reconcile with myself over the fact that I almost gave into Dante Costa.