Chapter 17
So, to say that dating a man like Nico was foreign to her would be a gross understatement.
First of all, she’d assumed they were in the wrong place when Enzo pulled up in front of Il Lusso.
River had never been there, but she’d heard stories of menus with no prices listed, bottles of wine that cost more than a downpayment on a beachfront condo, and patrons who never wore the same designer clothes twice.
It did not seem like the kind of place a lowly, underpaid and under appreciated teacher with wrecked credit would frequent.
But Nico had assured her they were indeed in the right place.
So, she’d taken the arm he offered and accompanied him through the lavishly appointed restaurant to their table, fighting the urge to fidget with her hair or straighten invisible wrinkles out of her skirt.
Where was a good fidget spinner when she really needed one?
From the heavy velvet drapes that hushed the city’s noise to the hand-blown Murano glassware and marble-topped tables, everything at Il Lusso radiated luxury. Even the scent in the air—fresh basil and truffles—was rich.
It wasn’t until a stunningly attractive server named Gia placed a glass of mineral water in front of her that River realized the entire place was empty.
“I thought it took months to get a reservation here,” River whispered. “Why is it empty?”
“They canceled all their reservations for us.”
She blinked at him. “You mean you rented it out?”
“Rented makes it sound…unseemly somehow,” he said with a smirk. “I persuaded them to accommodate us this evening.”
Silently doing the math on how many thousands of dollars it would take to persuade an owner to close their highly profitable, totally booked restaurant for an entire night, River didn’t answer right away.
But when she determined the numbers were too big to deal with in her head, she gave up and just accepted that Nico had more money than someone like her could fathom.
He probably never waited until double coupon days at the grocery store to buy cereal (which was ridiculously overpriced for no damn good reason at all).
The thought of Nico stalking the cereal aisle for a box of on-sale Cheerios did make her chuckle, though.
Then she wondered what he meant by persuade…
She swallowed hard. “Did you know Cap’n Crunch’s full name is Horatio Magellan Crunch?”
Nico leaned forward in his seat and said, “No one was threatened or injured, fiorellino. I paid them an obscene amount of money in exchange for our privacy. Nothing more sinister than that, I promise. No need for you to be nervous.”
Believing him was probably a mistake. But she did. He hadn’t lied to her about the ugliness of his world yet, so she had no reason to think he’d start now.
They exchanged light small talk for a bit. She filled him in on what had happened at the boutique. He laughed at loud at her imitation of Tenley’s sweet voice hurling threats at the snarky salesclerk.
She listened intently while he discussed his day, which had included breaking up a knife fight between two of his lieutenants because one of them made fun of the pinkie ring the other had received as a birthday gift from his mother.
Apparently, various insults were exchanged before weapons were drawn.
Nico’s exasperation at the childishness of the whole thing made her snort-laugh more than once during his recounting of events.
He asked her about her hobbies, which, sadly, only included knitting and rewatching her favorite television shows.
And either he was actually interested in her answers, or he was the best pretender she’d ever met, because he focused on her with laser precision while she yammered about her favorite yarn and The Vampire Diaries as if she was imparting the secrets of the ages.
She kept the fact that he looked more like Damon but reminded her of Klaus to herself.
Nico said he didn’t have time for hobbies, but when pressed, he admitted to enjoying working out, having mastered several martial arts, and reading before bed every night.
A few pointed questions later and she discovered he liked Lee Child’s Jack Reacher series.
(And rightfully so. It was fabulous.) Nico looked a little befuddled when she informed him that those things did indeed count as hobbies.
She found his cluelessness on trivial matters both charming and adorable.
But by the time they’d ordered their food and started on the obscenely expensive (and phenomenal) bottle of wine Nico selected, they’d run out of low-level, easy conversation material and had to delve into deeper topics.
“Did you always want to be a teacher?” he asked.
“Definitely not,” she admitted. “But school is expensive, and since I was working my way through and not taking out any student loans, I didn’t have the luxury of trying out a bunch of majors until I found the one I loved.
I knew the teaching program was the most doable for me, so that’s the path I took. ”
“Have you considered going back now? Changing careers?”
Well…not until he just said that. He made it sound like changing careers was as easy as changing her socks. “I can’t say I’ve given it much thought.” She’d been far too busy trying to figure out how to rebuild her savings to put any mental energy into finding a dream career.
“You should. There’s no reason to stick with a career you don’t love.”
“I suppose I’ll be saving money on rent living with you in the mansion. I probably could afford to take some night classes.”
He looked at her like she was the most amusing creature on the planet as he reminded her, “We’re to be married very soon, fiorellino. What’s mine is yours. You can afford anything you want.”
After living with a man who insisted on going 50-50 for everything, then stole her 50%, Nico’s willingness to let her make her own financial decisions, even if those decisions led to her spending tens of thousands of dollars of the money he’d made was…well, fuck…
It was maybe the sexiest thing anyone had ever said to her.
Until…
He shoved the silver breadbasket her way. “Please. Eat. This one is especially delicious,” he said, pointing out an airy, fragrant pain brioche that looked like it had been crafted by angels for God Himself.
If there was anything hotter than a man who liked to feed his woman, River had never seen it.
She wasted no time slapping the bread on her plate and buttering it liberally before taking a nice, big bite.
It practically melted in her mouth. The moan she let out in response made her extra thankful that Nico had rented out the restaurant, because the general public did not need to hear her making sounds like that.
Nico’s eyes flared with what could only be described as heat, but he merely smiled at her as she demolished what remained of her bread, then two more pieces.
That was something she’d never done with her ex.
With Jeremy, if she’d even hesitated when the server asked about appetizers or dessert, he’d give her a look that wilted her soul—a look that reminded her that he thought she could stand to lose a few pounds.
And he’d always refused the bread before she could even get a sniff of it.
It was why she’d stopped eating with him at all by the end of their marriage. It was just too damn exhausting dealing with his negativity.
But Nico obviously didn’t think she needed to lose any weight.
He didn’t care if she ate all the bread.
In fact, he looked pleased that she was eating all the bread.
Was it possible that the only man who’d ever encouraged her love of carbs was the mob boss who was semi-forcing her into an arranged marriage?
Or was it a marriage of convenience? She always got those tropes confused when she was reading romance novels.
Seemed like there was a lot of potential crossover there. But—
“Your brow is furrowed,” Nico said. “What’s going on over there in that big, beautiful, chaotic brain of yours?”
“I was actually just trying to figure out what we’re doing. If this is a marriage of convenience or an arranged marriage,” she admitted.
“Does it matter?”
“Probably not. Neither is very romantic, though.”
Now he had a furrowed brow. “Does that bother you?”
She shrugged, glancing down at the napkin she was nervously twisting in her lap. “My first marriage failed so spectacularly. I guess I always assumed that if I ever tried again, it would be because I was hopelessly in love with the guy…and vice versa.”
Nico leaned back in his seat, and she saw the indecision in his eyes.
If she had to guess, she’d say he was starting to question his assertion that he’d never lie to her.
But eventually, he quietly admitted, “I’ll gladly give you everything I have—my name, my body, my protection, my respect, my loyalty.
It’s all yours. But I’ve never loved anyone or anything, fiorellino.
I’m not entirely sure I’m capable of such things. ”
Well, that was maybe the saddest thing she’d ever heard in her life—and not only because he was basically telling her he’d probably never love her. “What about your parents?”
“Didn’t know them. I was raised in group homes in Sicily until I was twelve.
On the streets for a bit after that.” He shrugged as if he wasn’t describing the tortured youth of a Dicken’s protagonist. “Found out I had family in America when I was sixteen, so I came here. They were mafia, and they didn’t hesitate to put me to work. ”
The tight tone of his voice told her she didn’t even want to know what kind of jobs the mafia would give a desperate, affection-starved sixteen-year-old. She swallowed the growing lump in her throat. “What about friends? Girlfriends?”
The sad smile he gave her held not even a trace of humor. “Working for the mafia isn’t the best way to make friends…or build relationships.”
“That must be really hard,” she said quietly. “Not having someone to…”
“Hold my hand when I sleep?” he finished for her softly.
He was, of course, referring to her comment about otters the night they met. “Something we have in common, I suppose.”
Nico offered her a small grin. “I’ll be your otter if you’ll be mine.”
It wasn’t a love declaration. Not even close. But it was the best offer she’d had in a long, long time.
“Deal.”