24. Dinner And A What?
Chapter 24
Dinner And A What?
Giordano
I regret staying late and not picking her up at the office. Making her walk? Stupido. What if something happens to her? What if there’s the off chance Cillian finds her? The terrible thoughts constantly cloud my mind the entire twenty minute drive to the restaurant.
My eyes land on a beautiful woman. And the way she smiles while watching me pull up in front of the building pulls my heartstrings.
I put it in park, slide out, and toss the keys to the valet. His entire face lights up when he peers over at the type of car I drive.
“Don’t break it.” I pat the kid on the back, in a friendly way.
“Of course.” He nods frantically.
The blush on Antonella’s face—my heart melts. I’m like the cookie dough all the time around her.
I walk up to her and kiss her cheeks. I miss her so much. It feels like forever since I’ve last touched her—even if it’s only technically been eight hours.
Too fucking long.
The urge to lock her in a cage in the villa becomes stronger each day. Especially now, because she’s further than a block from me.
Her new job’s a twenty minute drive with the traffic. I don’t appreciate it.
“Ciao, amore.” I take her arm in mine.
“Ciao, missed you.” She nudges my shoulder as we walk into the restaurant. I press a gentle kiss on her right temple. The sweet, floral scent of her shampoo emanates from her hair underneath my nose.
“Reservation for Marzano,” I say to the host. There’s only one person deserving of my real smile at the moment. And she’s holding onto my arm.
“Right this way.” He grabs two menus and leads us up the stairs.
High top reservations.
“Can I get you two something to drink right away?” the waiter asks, looking between the two of us.
If I didn’t have any restraint, I’d stab both his eyes with the steak knives for looking at my girl the way he did. He’s ogling her. Sure, she looks amazing in her fancy new clothes. And I’ll get to be the one to remove them later.
Oh, how I wish I could bring her to my office and have her pretend to be my secretary .
Maybe one day.
My jaw clenches as I say in a hushed tone, “Your most expensive white wine. Leave the bottle, please.”
“Of course, sir. Two glasses?”
“Yes, please.” I nod. The waiter walks off as Antonella pretends to skim over the menu for a moment. How adorable.
We sit directly across from each other. One lit candle between us. She peeks up from above her menu and stares at me for too long—thinking I’m not paying attention.
I smirk. I know, sweet girl . “Antonella,” I mutter.
“Yes, Giordano?” Her breathing hitches. The way she says my name goes right to my throbbing cock. It’s been too long without her already. I need more. I’m addicted and ready for a fix.
“How was your first day?”
She scrunches up her face. “It was… interesting. That’s for sure.”
“Yeah?”
“My boss called me out for almost being late, by the way.” Her sassy attitude’s already coming out to play?
“Almost?” My cock stiffens against the zipper of my pants as I lick my lips. I’m parched. And not in the way I only need a sip of water.
“And whose fault is that?” She tilts her head slightly to the left.
“Couldn’t be me.” I chuckle. “Sounds like your boss is a real stronzo.” I raise a brow, anger rising in my chest. Mental note, find out who her boss is and fucking threaten him for hurting my girl’s feelings.
The waiter brings back the glasses and bottle of wine and we order our food. I pour the cups, filling them to the brim.
“Tomorrow… I want to drive myself,” she mumbles. As if she’s scared to tell me she doesn’t want me to take her to work.
I swirl the wine around in my glass by the stem. “ Really ?”
“Yes.”
“And what sparked this decision?” I laugh, knowing the type of surprise awaiting her in the garage. This one’s in her name.
She can’t refuse.
“Well… I don’t want to have to rely on you driving me everywhere, right? You’re not always around,” she says in a quieter tone.
Is she upset about something? If someone made her feel this way at her work, I need to find out who and make sure it never happens again.
“Amore, if you’re unhappy?—”
“No! That’s not what I’m trying to say at all.” She smiles softly while reaching for her half-filled glass of white wine .
“What are you trying to say?”
“I can take care of myself.” She raises the glass to her pretty little mouth. I wish it was my cock.
Soon .
“I know, but let me,” I beg. “Please, let me.” Those beautiful brown eyes of hers shoot wide open. When will she finally give in? I’ve never begged for anything in my life, and here I am like the lovesick puppy dog.
She clears her throat. “Enough about me. What did you do all day?”
“Amore, you didn’t give me enough at all. But—” I puff out my cheeks. The waiter comes by with the food— finally .
“But… what?” She raises a perfectly arched brows of hers. She isn’t going to let up, is she?
“I’m looking into partnering with another company.” Not a lie. A half-truth. I’m not telling her the reason why . If she doesn’t ask, I don’t have to tell her.
“Why?”
Damn it. I take a sip of wine, buying time. What do I tell her? I can’t tell her it’s to make us more legitimate—it’ll raise her, more than likely already growing, suspicion.
I scratch my chin. “Helping out other people.”
“Because you’re so—o generous.” She squints at me—seeing right through my lie.
I keep up the facade. “Now you get it!” I wink at her, bringing the glass to my lips again, wishing the drink was stronger.
My girl’s smart. She’ll pick up on everything. Will she be mad at me for keeping this from her? I hope not. I hope she’ll understand I’ve been doing it to protect her.
“Allora… I don’t disagree.” She raises the glass once again to her lips, taking a lengthy sip. I can tell the alcohol’s already hitting her the way her cheeks down to her neck are flushed all a bright pink .
Bellissima.
“You do anything interesting for your first day at the news station?” I try to deflect the best I can—clearly there’s something she doesn’t want to discuss either.
She stops chewing her food, leaving one side of her cheek all puffy full of steak.
Bella .
She swallows. “Just… research.”
“On?” I laugh, staring at the drop-dead gorgeous woman sitting in front of me, practically polishing off every last drop of the bottle of wine. Even going as far as tapping the bottom of the glass. She smiles ear to ear once she sets the empty bottle on the table.
Perfetta.
Antonella’s about to answer, our conversation interrupted by a loud gasp of a few people a few tables away from us.
The hair stands straight on the back of my neck. Goosebumps crawl across my skin. High alert—something’s off . Careful not to alert her, I give a slight nod, taking the final sip of my drink. “Let’s get going, yeah?”
“Of course.” Concern crosses her face as she reaches for her purse—I stop her. Taking her delicate hand in mine, I grab the bag for her.
Please, don’t pick up on any clues. Her gaze flicks from our hands up to my face. She gives a soft smile—one would say— I love you.
“ Forgive me for asking this—and I’m sure you’ve gotten this a lot—but how’d you get your scar?”
“My scar?” My hand flies up to my face and a finger slowly drags across the length of it. Shockingly enough, I can tell her the truth about this one. “Oh, motorcycle accident when I was twenty.”
“You ride motorcycles?” Her eyes round with shock.
I shake my head, chuckling softly. “Not anymore. I had my fill. A quick brush with death was enough for me. I’m lucky this was the only scar I got. Xander still rides.”
“I—” Her sentence is cut off by a bullet flying past her, sending the window behind us shattering into millions of tiny pieces onto the table and floor below.
Screams from other people fill the air. I pull her to the ground, my first instinct—protect her. A quiet gasp escapes her lips as she drops down to the floor.
Cazzo , this place is supposed to have around the clock security. I pull out my gun from my holster, take it off of safety, and scan the area where bullet came from.
“Under the table, amore,” I whisper to her. I nudge my elbow toward the table as I sling her crossbody bag over my shoulder.
She peers up at me from her knees through those luscious lashes. Unfortunately, not the predicament I want to be in for this position. She quietly asks, “What’s goin?—”
“Antonella, listen,” I command in low, only audible to her ears. “Under the table. Don’t make me tell you a third time.” Her eyes become round as she crawls underneath the table. “Stay there, don’t move until I tell you.” My gaze flicks back up to the area.
Analyzing.
All the staff are cowering behind tables and counters, same with the few other guests. I’m sure emergency services are already on their way. I need to get her out of here, fast. She’s being targeted, again.
Another bullet zips past, flying straight into the wall behind me, the sound echoing off the walls. I’m wrong. She’s not being aimed at. I am.
Cazzo.
“Show yourself!” I aim my gun at the spot where the two bullets came from. A redheaded, extremely short man steps out. His gun already pointed at me. “Fuck.” I crouch down on my knees as he shoots a third time. The bullet barely grazes my left shoulder. I groan, lifting my uninjured arm up and aim at the man.
Pissed off for a new reason—pain.
“For Cillian!” The man shouts in a thick, Irish accent as he shoots again, but misses this time. He’s shot four times, and is going to be out of bullets soon if he keeps missing the way he does.
He’s grazed.
This is child’s play.
“Allora, you think you can take me?” I laugh, aiming my line of sight right in his chest. I pull the trigger, sending the bullet straight into his arm. Damn it all. He moved at the last second. “Yeah, run out of here like a coward!” I taunt at him, though not the brightest choice. I put my gun back on safety and slide it into the holster. I flip my suit jacket over it and crouch down, as if nothing ever happened. “You alright?”
“Am I—” She scowls, crossing her arms over her chest. “Am I alright? We were shot at! You were shot at!” She huffs as I reach for her hand. She takes it and rises to her full height of five foot nothing.
I scan over her entire being; making sure there are no cuts and bruises on her delicate skin. Relief floods over me. No harm has come to my amore.
I gulp, scanning the area of frightened people once again. And a single dreadful sound outside.
Sirens .
“We need to go,” I say.
“Go?”
“Andiamo.” I hold her arm in mine as I escort her carefully across the broken glass.
“Sir! You can’t leave!” A waiter shouts behind us.
Watch me.
“I don’t talk to cops. I’ll pay for the damages.” I grunt as I guide my sweet girl—who doesn’t need to be swept up in this mess— across broken glass and through terrified people. Once we reach outside, I pause. “Wait here.” I place both hands on her shoulder and make sure she stays where I put her.
“Sure, like I have anywhere else to be.” She nods once, her eyes completely glossed over.
Oh, amore.
I glance over to the valet. He remembers me, I know that for sure. He quickly nods and runs off. After a few minutes, he pulls the car around.
I shift my attention over to Antonella, staring at nothing. My poor girl is in shock. Who can blame her? It’s a lot to witness. I’m going to have to tell her the truth about what I do.
I open the trunk, shrugging my jacket off and tossing it in. What a waste of a perfectly good suit.
“Are we not going to stay and talk with the police? You were shooting back! Why do you have a gun?” she asks, frantic.
“No, sì, and protection,” I answer everything honestly.
“No? Che? The fuck you mean no ?”
“No, we don’t talk to the police, amore.” I shake my head. “Complicates things. He’s not dead; he ran away. I’ll pay off the damages to the restaurant. Everyone wins.”
Her eyes widen. “Che cazz?—”
“It’s best you don’t know, amore. I can’t tell you…” I want to say something more. I should tell her—not here though.
“You’re bleeding,” Antonella whispers. More tears form in her eyes.
“Barely hit, amore.” My fingers immediately get to work on removing my tie and unbuttoning my shirt, hoping I can distract her with my muscles. I glance down to my injured shoulder. “See? No bullet in there.”
Her entire face drains of her beautiful olive tone. Is she—is she going to throw up? Faint?
“Are you okay?” I analyze her facial expressions morphing from signs of life into a pale shell, and her body language shifting into a statue.
“I-I’m not a fan of blood.” She blinks a few times, glancing down to the sidewalk. “Why are they shooting at you?” her voice settles; the nerves calming.
“I—” I reach into the trunk and grab the first aid kit. If she can’t handle it, I need to get it out of her sight as quickly as I can. “Go sit in the car.”
Much to my surprise, she snatches the kit out of my hand and starts shuffling through the different bandages and antibiotic creams without a word.
I keep my gaze locked on the way she moves, how effortless she makes her actions seem even though she’s trembling, nervous about the blood and the adrenaline rushing through her veins.
After a moment, she starts her little nervous laughter while her delicate fingers slightly tremble, holding a two-by-two sized piece of gauze and some tape. She tears through the packaging, placing it on my wound and tears a piece of tape off, tossing the roll into the trunk of my car.
“Why are you laughing?”
She snorts another laugh through her nose while taping the piece of gauze on my arm. “If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry. And I don’t want to cry, and ruin this perfect make-up look. I spent a while applying it and I can’t?—”
I place my hand on her cheek, pulling her closer to me as I smack my lips directly into hers, cutting off her sentence. I need her.
Right now.
Everything she is, and everything she’ll be. She melts into me; the way her body gives into me so easily, even in distress.
My tongue slides across the bottom of her plump lip, begging for entrance. I want to take it further, but not here. Not now. I can’t. She’s too vulnerable right now and I don’t want to take advantage of her. Her lips slightly part at and she gasps for air as her hands slide up the front of my exposed chest; her fingers languidly dragging across each line of my muscles.
She’s distracting herself. She needs this.
I take that chance to slide my tongue into her mouth, sliding my tongue across hers, tasting her. She’s divine. My hands slide down, cupping both of her ass cheeks in my hands, pulling her up and closer to me. I don’t want to break apart this kiss, but we do need to get going.
Sirens are getting closer.
Reluctantly, I pull away from her and clear my throat. “Why did you do this for me? I could’ve bandaged it up myself.”
“Sometimes, we have to get over our fears by facing them head on. If this is your life… so be it. I’ll learn to handle anything thrown my way.” She winces.
Atta girl .
“Let me put my shirt back on.” I chuckle.
“Or not,” she whispers, looking up at me with those beautiful honey brown colored eyes. Her stare drops down to my exposed abs. Cazzo, we’re standing outside of a restaurant in the middle of the city streets. Time to wrap this up.
“Is that an order?” I ask. I’ll do it if she wants me to.
“You better believe it.” She smacks my ass.
“Look at you, getting all feisty. A little bit more of the adrenaline and you’re going to fly off the handle.” I chuckle while scratching my chin. I admire the view of her curvy ass shaking, as she circles around to her side of the sports car. I open the door for her. “After you, amore.”
“Thank you.” She winks as she slides in with such grace. I catch a hint of her vanilla perfume.
Peaceful.