Matteo stalked toward me and gripped my hips. “But Gianna, sometimes you are a real b—”
I clamped my hand over his mouth. “Don’t you dare say it.”
His brown eyes crinkled in amusement. I lowered my hand. “Beast,” he finished.
I hit his chest. “And you’re a cocky bastard.”
He didn’t deny it.
“How about we have drinks in the Tipsy Cow first?”
“Deal,” I said. “How can I resist a good cocktail?”
Hand in hand, we walked into the elevator and leaned against the mirror as it traveled down. Matteo regarded me. “You get more gorgeous the longer we’re together,” he said.
“That’s because your eyesight gets worse.” I was turning thirty-one this month and had found the first gray hair a few weeks ago. I’d plucked it at once but it had given me a small crisis. Matteo, the bastard, still had thick, dark hair, and even if he got gray hair at some point, I just knew it would make him look hot.
Matteo squeezed my hip. “I have perfect sight, trust me. You are sex on legs, Gianna.”
I took my burgundy lipstick out and put it to my lips, trying to hide my pleased smile.
* * *
Matteo waved at the bartender when we entered the crowded bar. We tried to have a cocktail night once a week and most of the time we came to the Tipsy Cow. Its bare brownstone walls, cowhide booths, and their amazing list of cocktails was right up our alley.
We slipped into our usual spot, sitting beside each other, thigh to thigh, in the booth. Matteo threw an arm around my shoulder and leaned in. “See, the first poor sucker thinks he can eye-fuck you.”
I followed his gaze toward a guy sitting in another booth with a woman and still leering at me. I gave him the most disgusted expression I was capable of.
“I love your resting bitch face,” Matteo said, then grabbed my face and gave me a deep kiss.
When we pulled apart, the menus rested on our table. I gave Matteo a look, embarrassed that the server had to witness our PDA.
“How about a little adventure?” Matteo asked as he picked up the menu.
I narrowed my eyes. I’d learned to be wary when it came to Matteo’s definition of adventure. “That depends.”
“We choose each other’s cocktails.”
“That’s tame for you,” I said, surprised, but actually liking the idea.
I perused the list of cocktails, trying to decide what I’d order for Matteo. Even though we’d been here countless times, there were many cocktails that Matteo had never tried, mainly the sweet and creamy variety. His usual choice was an old-fashioned. At first, I considered choosing something sickly sweet and girly to tease him but then I decided it would be more fun to try and find a cocktail he never tried because he thought it wasn’t what he liked. Smiling, I chose the Chilled Irishman.
Matteo raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment. I could tell that he thought I was trying to find the cocktail he liked least.
Eventually he chose a concoction with mint schnapps and white chocolate, definitely not my usual choice.
I settled in his arms as we waited for our order. “Sometimes I’m shocked by how long we’ve been together.”
“Almost thirteen years. A lucky year?” He grinned.
I shook my head. “Did you really believe we’d last this long when we first married?”
Matteo shrugged, looking thoughtful. “To be honest, I rarely thought beyond the next weekend, much less a decade. But I knew I wanted you and that we’d be great together if you’d get over your mobster aversion.”
I rolled my eyes. I had never really gotten over my aversion for the business but I’d accepted it as part of my life. The waiter headed toward us with our cocktails. I eyed the green concoction in front of me warily. “You know how much I hate mint and chocolate together, and yet you order this.” I motioned at the glass in front of me with sprigs of mint and a mesh of white chocolate as decoration.
“You hated us together at first and now here we are.” He took a sip from his drink and nodded appreciatively.
I removed the mesh from my glass and bit a piece off before I put it down on the napkin and took a sip from my drink. My lips pulled into a grimace. “You’re lucky we worked out better than this drink.”
Matteo squeezed my hip. “I think we’re both lucky.”
I sipped at his drink and shrugged. “Deal.”
* * *
“Don’t worry, baby.”
The hell. His words and the look in his eyes didn’t match. We’d been at the dance club for less than an hour and trouble had already found Matteo, or he’d found it…
“Matteo,” I said more insistently. He put his palm flat against my bare belly and pushed me a few steps back, behind him.
I looked around. People were starting to build a circle around us in anticipation of an impending fight. They whispered among each other but it was impossible to make out anything over the loud music.
“From what hick town are you?” Matteo asked with that scary smile as he stepped up to his three opponents.
I hooked my fingers in the back of his pants but he ignored me.
The tallest of the three men jerked his chin up in challenge. He looked like a lumberjack with his broad shoulders and full beard. He could probably throw a mean right hook. “What makes you think we’re not from here, motherfucker?” He took a step closer to Matteo and so did his two friends, trying to intimidate him.
Matteo’s smile widened. “Oh, you definitely aren’t from New York.”
“Matteo,” I hissed. “This isn’t your club. There are too many people around. If you get arrested, I’m going to kick your ass.”
Tall guy shoved Matteo’s chest hard. “Think you are something better?”
Matteo stumbled a step back, right into me, and I let out a startled gasp. Matteo’s eyes flashed from me to the guy. Oh no.
“I’m better in every regard that matters,” Matteo growled. He smashed his fist into the other guy’s face who stumbled back and fell to the ground, clutching his nose, blood sloshing out of it.
And then all hell broke loose. The right guy crashed his beer bottle against the bar, breaking the lower half off, left with a sharp top.
Matteo shoved me back again and reached under his leather jacket, pulling out something and then a silver blade flashed in the flickering overhead lights.
“No!” I screamed over the beat. The crowd jeered, but in the back of the club I could see two tall bouncers pushing their way through the mass of people, and the police probably were on the way as well.
Both guys attacked Matteo. He jammed his elbow into the face of the unarmed one then faced off with the other guy. The guy made a slashing motion with the beer bottle and Matteo sidestepped him, then thrust his elbow down on the crook of the guy’s arm. I winced when the arm twisted at an impossible angle. The throbbing beat swallowed the scream of agony.
Matteo shoved the guy to the ground and pressed the knife against his throat, looking scary as hell. “So you think you can touch my wife?”
I rushed toward him and grabbed his shoulder, but he didn’t let me pull him away. A bouncer broke through the crowd. “Stop it, you fuckers! The police are here!”