Chapter 4 #2
Good again. She was leaning into the pull between them now, looking deeper, testing the interest she felt. A faint smile touched his mouth. “Valachi. Antonio Valachi.”
She returned the smile, soft and curious. “That is a lovely name. It feels… powerful.”
If only she knew.
She lifted her latte again and took a slow sip. When a drop clung to the corner of her mouth, she licked it away with a lazy sweep of her tongue, and heat coiled through Tonio at the way she met his gaze—slow, a bit too na?ve and sweet yet unmistakably carnal.
Heat pooled low in his gut. This was a problem.
He wanted her mouth beneath his, and he wanted her pussy driving down on his cock.
The attraction had hit him hard and unexpectedly in the hallway last night, crawling under his skin like a swarm of fire ants, impossible to ignore.
He leaned back, the worn wood pressing solidly against his shoulders. Steady. She’s a job. Nothing more.
Pink climbed her neck, and he blinked. She was too damn innocent for the darkness she was tangled in.
The senator would have her throat slit and her body dumped in a shallow grave where no one would ever find her if it meant protecting his reputation.
“I’m surprised you came. I gave you a clear exit,” he said, wanting a deeper understanding of what she was thinking.
She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe I was just curious.”
“About the coffee?” he asked, letting a thread of dry amusement slip through.
A faint smile touched her lips. “About the man who recommends it.”
There it was. The way she looked at him just now was the focus of that sharp, journalistic curiosity aimed squarely at his core, and the sensation was deeply unsettling.
“Curiosity killed the cat,” he murmured. The warning was as much for his own traitorous pulse as it was for her.
“So why are you here, Tonio? In this town. And don’t tell me it’s for the coffee,” she asked, gaze steady.
The dance was over. He allowed a fractional smile. “A man can’t enjoy a change of scenery?”
“A man like you?” she asked, leaning forward, her voice dropping into something that curled heat through his gut. “Try being honest.”
“Honest about what?” he drawled.
“About whether I can trust being around you.”
He lifted a brow. “Are you so sure I’m trying to pull something over on you?”
“I’ve had a special skill since I was young,” she said softly. “My mother taught me how to smell bullshit miles away. And I smell it on you.”
“So I’ve gone from being cute to smelling like cow shit,” he said dryly.
She laughed—bright, surprised—and then sobered quickly, as if the sound had startled her. The sweetness of it punched straight into his chest, tugging him toward her in a way he damn well hadn’t expected.
“You look gorgeous when you smile,” he murmured before he could stop himself.
Her eyes warmed. “Ah, so you are also a flatterer.”
“Is it working?”
She tilted her head, studying him. “Do you want it to work, Tonio?”
He gave a slow smile. “Very much.”
“Which woman doesn’t like her vanity to be petted?” she drawled. “Maybe after I learn a little more about you, I’ll be more open to your interest. Tell me… are you married?”
That query surprised him. “I wouldn’t be here with you if I were.”
She arched a brow. “Why not? Married men can be friends with women, and they can share a coffee at a diner.”
“Not with the kind of want I feel for you,” he replied, his voice low. “If I were committed, I would stay far away.”
Something flickered in her gaze—interest, wariness, and desire all tangled together—and Tonio felt it strike him like a match against steel.
His words hung between them, heavy and tangible. He met her gaze, letting his mask slip just enough to show his attraction.
“So it’s mutual,” she said, looking inexplicably shy.
Fuck. He wanted to tell her to get up and run, to listen to the instinct whispering that a boogeyman was haunting her steps.
“What do you do, Tonio?”
“My family has a business. Sometimes clients become…complicated, and someone on our team needs to address their expectations. I’m here to tidy up an old account.” A vague truth—useless, yet confessional.
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping as he threaded the lie with a hint of honesty.
“But you…you were a complication I didn’t anticipate.
I saw you and thought…” He let the sentence hang, his eyes holding hers.
“…that you were the most interesting thing I’d seen in this town—beautiful and mysterious. We could pass the time together.”
He sat back, giving her space. “So, there it is. Business and a personal distraction.” He let the next truth escape, uncaged. “One I don’t regret engineering.”
A flicker of surprise crossed her face before her mask snapped back into place.
“I don’t trust easily.”
“Trust isn’t given,” he countered. “It’s earned. In increments. I agree you should not trust easily.”
She held his gaze for a long moment, her own a landscape of warring caution and curiosity.
“Then I suppose you’d better get started,” she said. Her gaze dipped to his mouth, then back up, a flicker of vulnerability swiftly masked by defiance.
He didn’t lean in or cross the line, only watched the tilt of her head, the rhythm of her breathing—the soft brush of her hair against her jaw.
“What are you doing in town, Sofia?”
She went still, her gaze turning deep and unreadable as she watched him. “I’m investigating a story. Once I have all my information, I’ll write about it.”
Tonio frowned. This sounded far more complicated than a girl searching for her birth father. What the hell was there to write about? “And what exactly are you investigating?”
Her mouth curved. “That I cannot share until I have all my ducks in a row.”
Before he could press further, the waitress arrived and set their breakfast special on the table—French toast piled with strawberries and whipped cream, three eggs for each of them fried over easy, hash browns, two sausages, four strips of bacon, and four pieces of toast.
“That is a large meal,” he said. “I will help you if needed.”
She smiled, lifted her fork, and said, “No help needed.”
He watched in stunned fascination as she took her first bite of French toast, nodded in approval, and then tucked in with absolute focus.
Tonio ate, realizing quickly that she wasn’t a woman who liked to eat and talk at the same time.
Her attention remained on her food, and she savored every bite with clear delight, closing her eyes once or twice as if tasting something she’d long been deprived of.
She polished off everything on her plate—even the four slices of toast—like a woman who hadn’t eaten a real meal in days.
And damn if he didn’t find it strangely endearing.
She glanced at his plate with wide, amused eyes. “I think you’re the one who needs help.”
He grinned. “You’re a foodie.”
“Oh yes.”
She said it with such relish that it made him laugh.
“It was a love I shared with my mom. She always teased that I’d eat everything in sight and never gain a pound. I never understood it, because she was even more slender than I was.”
The smile slipped from her face. She lowered her gaze, as if hiding.
“Hey,” he murmured, unable to stop himself. “Where’d you go just now?”
She looked up—and the raw pain in her green eyes hit him like a truck. He felt it in his chest, sharp and unwelcome, because he recognized that emptiness. He saw it in himself often when he looked in the mirror.
“My mom died recently,” she said softly. “And whenever I think of her, I feel this jagged pain tearing at my chest. It spreads and swallows me whole. I can feel it happening now, and I fear I’ll be poor company soon. I’m sorry. I should go. Please let me pay—”
He didn’t let her finish. Instinct overrode thought.
Tonio reached across the table, grabbed her by the waist, and hauled her toward him, ignoring the clattering of plates between them.
Their mouths crashed together—hot, desperate—and he swallowed her gasp, tasting strawberries, whipped cream, and something uniquely her.
She didn’t push him away. She leaned into him, a soft, broken whimper escaping her, something needy and desperate clawing its way to the surface.
He slid his tongue into her mouth, stroking, coaxing.
She met him—awkward for the first second, then with rising heat, learning him, answering him.
He kissed her deeper, licked into her again, nipped lightly at her lower lip, and she gave him another of those breathy, helpless sounds that went straight to his cock.
He was hard enough to split his zipper. And still he kissed her, again and again, as if he could chase every shard of grief from her body and swallow it himself. Damn stupid, considering he barely knew the woman, and this was not what he had come here for.
She tore her mouth from his and stared at him, breathing hard. Tonio watched the pulse fluttering at her throat, visible through the open collar of her silk blouse. He lowered his head and dragged his tongue slowly along that delicate spot.
She gasped—soft, startled—and still didn’t pull away.
“People are looking at us,” she whispered.
“Do you still feel hollow?” he asked against her skin.
There was a pause—one trembling breath—and then, “No.”
He lifted his head, satisfied. “Good.”
“I’m going to leave now because…well, too many people seem to have enjoyed that.”
Tonio laughed, and she quickly looked away, cheeks flushed. He pulled out a wad of cash and set it on the table, knowing it would cover the bill and leave a very generous tip.
Soon after, they stepped outside into the crisp morning air. Tonio drew his jacket tighter, hands tucked in his pockets, and fell into step beside her, measured but attentive.
“So,” he said, his voice low, deliberate, “what’s on your agenda today?”
She glanced at him, wary but curious. “Why do you care?”
“Curiosity,” he said, letting a faint smirk show. “And let’s call it proactive planning. If I know where you’re headed, I can avoid another…surprising…collision.”
Her lips curved, a flash of amusement and challenge. “Or maybe you just want to know where I am.”
He let the corner of his mouth lift, slow and controlled. “Maybe I do. Keeps the day interesting…keeps me from getting bored.”
She met his gaze for a moment, a flicker of open curiosity in her eyes, before looking forward again.
A strand of hair lifted in the breeze. His hand moved before he thought, brushing it behind her ear.
He didn’t move. Just watched her, his chest tightening as the faint hitch in her breath mirrored the one in his own.
The pull was undeniable, but walls, careful walls, still held. One step at a time.
“You shouldn’t do that,” she murmured, though she didn’t move away.
“I know,” he said, low and deliberate. “I couldn’t resist.”
They walked on, the quiet street stretching ahead like a silent audience. He lingered on the sensation a moment longer, letting himself register it in small increments before pushing it aside, steadying his pulse.
“So what’s next?” he asked softly. “Do you want me to act like a stranger the next time I see you?”
She exhaled, a slow, deliberate sound. He watched, waiting for her verdict.
“No.”
He smiled. “Good.”
“Maybe…I don’t know…maybe dinner. If you’re still around.”
Tonio allowed a faint smile. Not victory. Just acknowledgment. For the first time that morning, he let himself feel the pull fully, without the shield of his walls.