Michael
“We’re going dancing tonight,” she says.
I’m sprawled across her comforter, staring at the ceiling, but that has me sitting up. “Excuse me?”
Katie smiles at me through the mirror while she digs through the top drawer of her dresser. We’ve been back from visiting her mom for maybe twenty minutes.
She spent forty-five minutes of the drive singing at the top of her lungs, switching songs every few minutes, not letting the car get quiet once. I didn’t interrupt her. I didn’t say anything about it. I didn’t need to. It was obvious what she was doing.
“Yeah,” I say, watching her. “Let’s revisit that.”
She doesn’t slow down.
“We’re going out,” she says again. “To the club Voltage at nine.”
I stare at her.
“You’re serious.”
She meets my eyes in the mirror, one brow lifting. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“Doll,” I say, “I don’t dance.”
She crosses the room, reaches me, and pushes my shoulders back until I’m sitting upright. She swings one leg over my lap and straddles me. My hands grab her hips automatically, sliding possessively to span her waist. The moment she settles there, my entire body reacts.
Fuck.
Her body’s slotted against mine, and my cock hardens fast. Pulse pounding, I lean into it.
“Tonight you do,” she says in my ear, and she’s off my lap just as fast as she got on.
“You really want to go out tonight?”
“Absolutely,” she says, opening her closet and grabbing at hangers. “Oh, Luca’s coming too.”
My jaw tightens.
“Is he now?”
She looks at me. “Don’t do that. He’s with Sarah.”
I rub my eyes. When I look at her, she’s staring at me, hand on her hip.
“Michael, I’ve had a shitty day. I just want to go to the club and dance with my friend.”
“I get it,” I say, voice tight. “But, Doll, I run a company. I’m not out in clubs getting drunk.”
“Fuck you, Michael.” She stomps out of the room.
Dammit.
She’s slamming cabinets in the kitchen when I walk in. I come up behind her and grab her by the waist, pulling her back against me.
“Let me go,” she says, trying to twist away.
“No.”
I spin her around. The look of rage in her eyes is palpable.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Oh, you meant it exactly like that,” she says. “You just didn’t like how it sounded out loud.”
She’s right. I let go of her. She takes several steps away from me.
“What the fuck about going dancing with me is so horrible?”
“Katie—“
“No,” she cuts me off. “I’m sorry that I’m twenty-four and you’re not, but I still want to do things people my age do. And excuse me for wanting my boyfriend there with me.”
I watch her. “You’ve said that twice now.”
“What?”
“My boyfriend.” I step closer. “You keep calling me that.”
Her chin lifts. “Aren’t you?”
I nod.
“I am, and you’re my girl.”
She narrows her eyes at me.
“And there’s nothing wrong with you wanting me to go dancing with you.” I move until I’m back in her space. “I’m sorry I acted like such a dick.”
“Like a complete fucker,” she says, hands sliding up my chest.
My head falls back, laughing. She’s amazing. Fierce, mouthy, and not even a little bit afraid of me, and if she wants me to go to a club, I’ll go to a fucking club.
“Shit,” Katie says when I come out of the bathroom.
“What?” I ask, rolling my sleeve.
“You look hot as fuck.”
“Oh really?” I lift a brow.
I’m wearing black slacks and a fitted black button-down, the sleeves rolled and the collar open.
“Don’t let this go to your head, but you are a walking fantasy,” she says.
She looks hot as fuck too. She’s wearing a black jean jacket over a sheer top that leaves her bra and cleavage completely visible, and ripped jeans low on her hips. It’s enough to make me hard just looking at her.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she says, adjusting her bra. “The way you have those sleeves rolled up and the buttons open on your shirt. I literally want to bite the tattoos on your neck.”
My cock twitches.
“Doll, stop.” I hold her gaze. “Or we’re not leaving.”
She grins.
“Come on. I’m starving. Feed me before we have to be there.”
“You are awfully demanding for someone so much smaller than me,” I tell her.
She shrugs. “Like you’re going to do anything about it.”
I wonder what that mouth would sound like if she knew who I really was.
“What are you staring at, you creeper?”
“Nothing. Come on.”
She grabs her phone and purse from the table. I hold the front door open for her, and she slaps my ass on the way out.
“Oh, that’s it,” I say, shutting the door behind me.
I grab her, and she squeals as I lift her and throw her over my shoulder. She doesn’t fight it. She hands me her keys so I can lock the door, propped up on my shoulder with a grin on her face.
“This is what you wanted,” I say.
“You’re so perceptive, babe,” she answers mockingly.
I haul her down the stairs and to her damn Honda. I drop her to her feet at the passenger door. She waits while I unlock it and open it, smiling at me the entire time.
As I hold it open, her hand comes to my chest. She rises onto her toes and hooks her other hand behind my neck, pulling me down. Her mouth meets mine, and she smiles into it before slipping into the car. I shut the door and stand there.
Fuck. I’m gone for this woman.
The Honda doesn’t belong in front of Dominico’s.
Every other car lined up under the lights fits the place—dark, polished, and expected.
The valet steps forward out of habit, then checks himself when he sees what he’s walking up to, his eyes moving over the car for a second too long.
I cut the engine and step out anyway, closing the door.
By the time he reaches me, he’s already fixed it.
“Mr. Amato.”
I nod and move around the front, opening her door before he can. My hand is there when she steps out, and she takes it.
“Mr. Amato,” she mocks as we walk to the restaurant doors.
“Smartass.”
She just grins up at me.
“Good evening, Mr. Amato,” the doorman says, opening it for us.
Katie has to stifle a laugh. I guide her inside with my hand at her back. Heads turn and once they see me, conversations drop. The host looks up, and for a second, his attention lands on her instead of me. He corrects it quickly.
“Mr. Amato.”
“I want a table in the main room tonight.”
There’s a pause. His eyes shift toward the back, and he nods.
“Of course.”
He turns and leads us through the dining room instead of past it.
A few looks follow us, quick, quiet, and gone as soon as they’re caught.
The table he gives us sits along the edge of the room, placed right, with a clear view of everything.
It’s not the room in the back they usually keep ready for me.
I pull her chair out and wait until she sits before taking mine across from her. The server hands us menus and waits.
“What do you want to drink?” I ask her.
“Dr. Pepper.”
I nod once and look up.
“Dr. Pepper and Whiskey neat.”
“Yes, sir.”
She steps away. I lean back slightly and watch her.
“So,” she says. “This is where billionaires go out to eat?”
“Not just billionaires. Millionaires too.”
I wait for her reaction.
“God,” she laughs. “Your ego is the size of Mount Everest.”
I smirk. “And yet, you just keep coming back for more.”
“I mean, can you blame me? You are a billionaire.” She drags it out and leans across the table.
I’m about to reach for her hand when the server comes back with our drinks and sets them down. I pick up the menu then, flipping it open and sliding it toward her instead of keeping it.
“Take a look,” I tell her. “Get whatever you want.”
She glances down at it and back up at me.
“I already know what I want.”
“Yeah?”
“Steak.”
“Side?”
“A big fat baked potato,” she says, smiling, completely unpolished. I fucking love it.
“You heard the woman,” I say to the server. “I’ll take the same.”
“How do you want that cooked?” the server says.
“Medium,” Katie pipes in.
“I’ll do the same,” I say passing the menu off.
She nods and leaves. I take a drink, set the glass back down, and let my eyes move across the room once before coming back to her.
“What is this place? I’ve never heard of it.” she says.
“Dominico’s. It’s not exactly on Yelp.”
She snorts, and I laugh with her before I think about it. It carries just enough. Heads turn. Michael Amato, mafia don, laughing in public. I feel it settle across the room but choose to ignore it.
“I swear,” she says.
“What?”
“You take me somewhere suddenly people are watching. The hotel, now this. It’s not normal.”
I don’t react.
She watches me with a smile on her face. “Are you part of the mafia?”
“Doll,” I say, taking a drink. “I’m just really rich.”