27. Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Seven
Vincenzo
I pull the car up outside of the restaurant and feel a zap of electricity run through me, the excitement of seeing Emilia again after the last few days I’ve had, is overwhelming. I step out of the car and take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that are fluttering in my stomach.
As I open the restaurant doors, the delicious aromas assault my senses, distracting me from my nerves.
“Can I help you?” the waitress asks, as she approaches me.
“Yes, reservation for two under Rossi.” She smiles at me, and quickly checks her list.
“Thank you, Mr. Rossi. Please follow me. You are the first to arrive,” she says, leading me to our table.
A few minutes pass and the waitress fills my glass with water.
The anticipation of seeing the gorgeous woman who captured my attention so quickly gnaws at me.
I have never really missed the company of women I have been involved with in the past, the feeling is foreign, but not completely unwelcome.
I sense the moment Emilia walks through the doors, and I can’t help the proud smirk that lifts my lips knowing she is mine.
My eyes devour her features as she is greeted by the same waitress and lifts her gaze to look through the space for me.
She looks stunning in her green dress, the skirt floats around her long legs as she crosses the restaurant behind the waitress, her eyes finally finding mine.
My heart stutters in my chest at her beauty, but my excitement is stilled when she doesn't return my smile. Something is clearly bothering her.
Standing to greet her, I move swiftly to beat the waitress to pull out her chair, leaning in to kiss her plump lips, but she turns her head and offers her cheek.
Pushing her chair in for her, I retake my seat and look over her face as she sits across the small table from me, a polite smile on her face that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
I can tell she’s preoccupied with something, and it’s not the menu she has just picked up from in front of her.
“Emilia, you look absolutely beautiful,” I say, trying to break the ice and lighten the mood. But she just nods slightly, not meeting my eyes. I can feel the frown on my face at her reaction.
“Thank you, Vincenzo. You look quite dashing yourself,” she replies after a long pause, her voice a little distant.
“What’s going on, Emilia?” I lean back in my chair waiting for her reply. She looks up from the menu and cocks an eyebrow at me. When I don’t say anything else she lets out a huff of frustration, picks up her clutch and begins rummaging through it.
She pulls something out and slides it across the table at me. When she lifts her hand, I recognise it immediately.
“I had an interesting visitor this afternoon,” she says, flipping her auburn hair over her shoulder.
“Where did you get this?”
She lets out a frustrated laugh. “Where do you think, Vincenzo?”
I take the card and turn it over, my heart sinking as I see my father’s mobile number scrawled in his own handwriting on the back.
Dread settles heavily in my stomach. What the hell has he done?
My heart begins to race, as I realise what she is saying.
My father knows more than I ever thought he did, and now I have put the one person I care about in serious danger.
“When were you going to tell me?” she asks, playing with the napkin in her lap.
“Tell you what?” Fury crosses her face as her sharp eyes meet mine.
“He told me that Kayla, the blonde bimbo from the other night, is your fiancée?” Her words hit me like a slap to the face.
“What? He said that to you?”
“That’s not a denial. What do you take me for, Vincenzo?
I’m not an idiot,” she hisses. “Your father came to me today and asked me about selling my gallery. Which, mind you, I had already told you, I’m not even thinking about selling.
Then he proceeds to tell me that you’re engaged to that duck lipped bimbo-”
I can’t help but smirk at her words.
“Seriously, this isn’t funny, Vincenzo.”
“Duck lipped bimbo?” I can’t hide the amusement in my voice. I couldn’t deny the fact that I had thought the same thing about the woman. The edges of her lips quirk up in a small smile which she quickly hides.
“Well yeah, I guess you’re into that thing,” she shrugs then folds her arms over her chest.
“She most definitely is not my type,” I respond, but she shakes her head at me.
“Vincenzo, that’s not the point! You’re engaged to her.”
I wave the waitress over and order myself a scotch and Emilia a glass of shiraz. The waitress quickly hurries off with our order and I look back at the gorgeous woman before me.
“I’m not engaged to her, Emilia. I never was.
Not really. We were to be married according to our families, but I never asked, never gave her a ring, fuck - I never even really dated her!
I told my father I have no interest in marrying her once and for all.
Seems I have worked out my type; and it isn’t a duck-lipped blonde bimbo. ”
Emilia eyes me suspiciously. “I’m not sure if I can believe that, Vincenzo,” she mutters, looking down at her hands.
I lean across the table and lift her chin, so she is looking at me again.
“I told him the other day that I have no interest in marrying Kayla. He’s been pushing for months, but after meeting you, I could never go through with it.
You’re all I can think about, Emilia. Seems my type is more curvy, sassy, green eyed brunette’s, with the plumpest lips I have ever felt. ”
She swallows hard, taking in my words as I run my thumb over her full bottom lip. We are interrupted by the waitress, and I drop my hand.
“Are you ready to order?” She asks with a cheery tone. It takes Emilia a moment to regain her composure and I begin ordering dishes.
I smile over at Emilia, her eyes softening slightly as she listens to my order. Once the waitress leaves, she leans in closer, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Vincenzo, I appreciate you telling me this now.
But I can't ignore the fact that your father came looking for me. He tried to push me on the sale of my gallery.” Rage built up inside me causing me to clench my fists under the table, trying to contain my anger at my father's manipulative tactics.
The thought of him going after Emilia and her gallery makes my blood boil.
I reach out and take her hand in mine, determined to protect her from any further interference.
“I will deal with my father, but for now, let’s enjoy our dinner.” As if on cue our entrées arrived.
“I don’t know what is happening with you and your family, Vincenzo, but I’m choosing to take you at your word. If you say you’re not engaged to Kayla, then I believe you.”
We dig into our food, and the flavours of the dishes explode in my mouth. Emilia hums in approval, making my cock twitch in my pants. I watch as she runs her tongue over her bottom lip, and it takes everything in me to not reach out and touch her again.
“Keep making those noises, kitten, and we won’t make it through dinner.”
She bites her bottom lip and looks back at me from under her thick dark lashes. Pink tinges her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, this just tastes so good.” She takes another bite and closes her eyes, keeping in the moan this time, but a sigh still escapes, causing me to shuffle in my seat, my pants uncomfortably tight against my now half hard cock.
“Trust me, nothing tastes better than you.” Her eyes widen at my words and her eyes dart around the restaurant, probably looking to see if anyone else heard me.
I couldn’t give a fuck if they did. She picks up her glass and takes a quick sip of her wine.
Crossing and uncrossing her legs. So, my little kitten is turned on by dirty talk. Interesting.
“How is everything?” the waitress interrupts, checking in on us.
“Absolutely delicious,” I smile widely, not taking my eyes off of Emilia; letting her know it isn’t the food I am referring to.
“That’s great to hear! Your mains shouldn't be too far away. Do you want any drinks topped up while you wait?” Emilia’s eyes are still focused on mine, desire shining that mirrors my own.
“We have everything we need right here, thank you.”
I have no idea if the waitress finally caught on to my double entendre, but either way she scurries off without another word, leaving us.
Emilia takes another healthy gulp of her wine, finally breaking my eye contact. Her breathing stutters. My appetite for anything other than her is practically gone.
“Take off your panties.”
“What?” she hisses. “I am absolutely not doing that here, Vincenzo.”
“Go to the bathroom then. But I want those panties. Now. So, take them off, like a good girl, or I will go under the table and get them myself.”
“You wouldn’t–” she taunts, but scrambles to her feet as I lift the tablecloth and push out my chair. “Okay. Stop. I’m going.”
I snag her hand as she goes to walk past me to the ladies’ room at the back of the restaurant, pulling her down for a quick, but bruising kiss.
“Hurry back or I will come in after you.” Making eye contact so she knows to take my threat seriously this time.
She nods quickly and rushes off, leaving me to chuckle darkly.