Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
MATTEO
A t the risk of losing my soul to the pit of hell for blasphemy as Chastity had warned—holy shit, she was hot.
Of course, I knew that long before she’d descended the stairs in a form-fitting dress that had accentuated the deep curve of her waist and swell of her hips. The sight of her in that thing had almost caused me to rush forward, throw her over my shoulder, and carry her right back up to my bed.
Screw a night out. Forget dinner and whatever came after. All I wanted was her.
But in the end, I’d wrestled back enough control to stick to the plan I’d formed that day.
Gabriel was right. It would be a mistake for me to venture into Brooklyn. But that didn’t mean that I should lay low.
No. Right now, it was more important than ever for me and the might of the D’Angelo family to be seen.
If Michael Costa was really readying his men for war, then any show of weakness would only strengthen his argument. The Costa family needed to see that the D’Angelos weren’t afraid. Not of them. Not of war. Not of anything .
Michael’s capos and soldiers needed to understand that the D’Angelo family wasn’t just willing to fight; we would do anything necessary to win.
And the best way to prove that was to show neither Chastity or I were cowering in fear was for us to appear in public together. After all, Michael Costa was pissed right now, and angry men made sloppy mistakes.
Mistakes like thinking it was a good idea to send his men into D’Angelo territory to look for me instead of waiting for me to cross the bridge and come to him.
And that’s exactly what he’d done.
Unfortunately for Costa, he’d sent his men straight into a trap.
I’d spent all day planning for tonight.
I’d sent men out, seeding the information of our dinner plans out into the street. And by the look of the place, Costa had taken the bait.
About a third of the tables were taken up with associates of his family.
But it was the other two-thirds that really mattered. Each one of them was packed with D’Angelo men.
Men who were ready and willing to tear the place apart if a Costa so much as twitched.
The Costas weren’t just outnumbered; they were overpowered—a preview of what any war between our two families would look like.
“Would you like to see the wine list?” the ma?tre d’ asked as I settled into my seat in front of every watchful eye in the place.
“There’s no need, Andrea,” I said. “We’ll start with the ’96 Chateau Margaux.”
The man nodded his approval. “Wonderful choice, sir. I’ll be right back with it for you.”
“ Start ?” Chastity asked, shooting me a pointed look across the table. “You’re not trying to get me drunk again, are you?”
I lounged against the plush banquette behind me.
“You can’t blame me for your overindulgence last night,” I said with a smile. “You did that all on your own.”
“Not all on my own,” she shot back. “I remember you handing me a glass that was mostly vodka at one point.”
I let my head tilt lazily down toward my shoulder.
“But I didn’t make you drink it,” I reminded her. “I didn’t make you do anything. Not last night…and not this morning either.”
A pretty blush lit up her cheeks. “Please keep your voice down. Are you trying to torment me?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “But if that’s the kind of thing you’re into, I’m happy to oblige.”
She blinked, looking confused for a second, before picking up the water glass in front of her. “Is that something people actually like?”
Damn, I had no idea someone could be so innocent. Not even someone who’d been hidden from the world for a decade.
“You’d be surprised at what some people find arousing,” I said. “I could make you a list if you want.”
Little lines spidered out from the corners of her eyes as they narrowed. “Why would I want that?”
“To decide which ones you’re interested in trying out during our time together.”
She coughed in surprise, a fine mist spurting from her lips as she choked on the sip of water in her mouth.
Any other woman I’d spent time with would have been mortified at the unsexy display, but not Chastity. Instead, she shot me an irritated look over the napkin she’d grabbed and was now using to dab at the water dripping down her chin.
“Now I know you’re trying to embarrass me,” she said, unafraid to lay the blame where it belonged—directly at my feet. “Please stop.”
“You’re right. That was over the line,” I admitted. “I’m sorry.”
The displeasure in her eyes softened as she lowered the napkin, revealing an astonished expression. “Did-did you just apologize?” she asked.
“Is it that surprising?” I found myself genuinely curious.
“Yes, actually,” she answered. “I don’t think I can remember the last time anyone told me they were sorry. Especially not a man.”
Given that almost all of her interactions with men were with family members, I wasn’t shocked. The Costas weren’t known for their deep introspection.
Then again, it wasn’t as if I was famous for admitting guilt, either. Quite the opposite, really. Much of my day was spent ensuring that no allegations thrown at the D’Angelo name ever stuck.
But there was something about Chasity’s company that lowered my defenses. Despite our quick back-and-forth conversations, I never felt the need to be on while I was with her. I could relax. Enjoy myself.
And apparently, I could even apologize when I truly upset her.
Interesting.
“That’s a shame,” I said. “Because it seems to me you’re owed quite a few apologies. Especially given how you’ve been treated over the years.”
“Matteo, I…I don’t…”
Whatever she was about to say was cut short when the waiter arrived with our bottle of wine. I gazed across the table at her as she swallowed down her words and nervously glanced down at her lap.
Silence filled the space between us as the waiter poured one glass…then the other.
Hell, silence filled the whole restaurant.
Any pretense of the other patrons eating had gone out the window shortly after we’d been seated. Now, every man in the restaurant—Costa or D’Angelo—had their eyes fixed on us.
A fact that Chastity apparently could no longer ignore as she reached for her wine glass.
“Everyone is staring at us.” Concern thickened her raspy whisper.
“They are,” I agreed casually before tipping back my glass and allowing the rich Bordeaux to wash over my tongue.
“Yes, but why are they staring?”
With any other woman, I would have used flattery to deflect. I’d tell her it was her beauty, that every man in the room was jealous, that every last one of them wished they were me.
And as breathtakingly gorgeous as Chastity looked tonight, all that would have been closer to the truth than ever before.
But it also wouldn’t have worked.
Flattery didn’t appeal to her. She was too honest for lines like that. Too real for anything other than the truth.
“Because they were sent here to watch us,” I said plainly. “At least those sent by your family. The rest are my men, who are here to make sure that your father’s men behave.”
“Oh.” Her eyes flashed down again. A slight tremble crept into her shoulders and her voice. “I should have realized that all this—” She swept her hand down her body before flicking it out toward the room. “—was all for show.”
“For protection,” I corrected her.
“Of course,” she sighed, her disappointment coming through loud and clear. “For a second, I almost forgot how suffocating our families’ idea of protection can be.”
“You don’t like the crowd?”
That was fine.
I’d already made my point with the Costas. They knew the united front they’d be facing if they decided to go to war with us. There was no harm in showing the strength as well.
I raised my hand and snapped my fingers.
“Everybody out,” I commanded.
In an instant, every D’Angelo soldier stood up from their chairs.
Chastity’s eyes went wide. “What are you doing”
“You wanted privacy,” I said. “And I promised to give you what you wanted.”
“But—”
“You heard Mr. D’Angelo,” Silvestri, one of our top men, boomed across the room. “It’s time to go.”
I didn’t bother turning my head to watch as, one by one, the Costas surrendered to our superior numbers. Instead, I simply sat back and sipped my wine, trusting my men to do their jobs and sweep the rival family members out into the street.
Chastity, on the other hand, looked like she couldn’t believe her eyes as she stared out across the emptying room. Her brows arched high. Her mouth hung open. Her expression stayed fixed and frozen until the last man was shuttled out the door.
“Silvestri,” I called out before he could leave.
“Yes, sir.”
“Please station a couple of guys at the door so no one else gets the idea to interrupt Miss Costa’s dinner.”
“Of course, sir,” he answered before walking out.
It took a good couple of seconds after the door had finally closed for Chastity to recover from the shock and turn back toward me.
“Y-You just snapped your fingers, and they all disappeared,” she sputtered in an almost terrified awe.
“That’s right.”
“How?…Why?… How ?”
It was impossible not to smile while looking into those wide golden eyes. Especially not when trying to answer her questions.
The why was easy.
“For you.”
As for how…
“Like I keep trying to tell you and your father, I’m much more powerful than you think.”
“Mr. D’Angelo,” the ma?tre d’ poked his head out of the kitchen. If he was surprised or upset to see his restaurant totally empty, he had the good sense not to show it. Instead, he didn’t skip a beat before asking, “Shall I assume this means you are ready for your main course?”
“Yes,” I answered. “Two ossobuco and another bottle of this excellent Margaux.”
“Of course, sir.”
“And Andrea,” I called out before he could duck back inside the kitchen. “Would you be so kind as to send someone to lower all the curtains in the windows?”
“It would be my pleasure, sir.”
“And dismiss the staff after our meal has been served,” I added. “My date has expressed a desire for complete privacy this evening.”
The man was wise enough to simply nod. “Certainly, sir.”
I drained the rest of my glass before setting it back on the table and slowly shifting my gaze to Chastity’s gobsmacked face.
For a long moment, she didn’t say a word. She barely even breathed.
But eventually, her shoulders shook with a prolonged sigh, and her lips trembled as, maybe for the first time ever, she decided that a little blasphemy wasn’t totally uncalled for.
“ Holy shit.”