He nods, knowingly. “Of course, Mirabella, right this way.”
My eyebrows lift. How does he know my name? But I don’t ask as we pass tables draped in linens and glowing with candles, couples leaning close, hands resting against one another. The ambiance is like the set of a romance movie. Soft piano music plays and when the maître d’ pulls back a crimson velvet curtain, my heart pounds with anticipation.
Waiting at the table is Matt. He stands and pulls the curtain closed, leaving us alone. My body stirs with excitement as he steps toward me. “You look incredible,” he says, taking me in. “God, your —” He stops himself.
I want to hear it though. “My what?” I press, as he sets his hands on my waist.
“You’ll blush.”
I lick my lips. “Good.”
“I was going to say your tits looking fucking perfect in this dress.”
I close my eyes, heat rising in me. “You were right. That does make me blush.”
“Your cheeks look cute when they get all rosy.”
“You always such a flirt?” I ask.
“No,” he says simply. “With you… it’s like I want to say everything, do everything. Be everything. And yet we’ve just met.”
“I’m not in any rush tonight. We can spend all evening getting to know one another.”
He lifts my chin with the crook of his finger. “I love the sound of that.” Then he kisses me. And this time, I literally swoon. A shiver runs over my skin and I inch closer, wanting him to hold me as he kisses me. Our lips part and his tongue finds mine, and somehow, we melt together in a way I’ve only ever read about. Entirely. All at once. And the idea of him ever letting me go brings tears to my eyes.
“Don’t cry,” he whispers.
“They’re happy tears.”
He brushes them away with his thumb. “Are you hungry, Mirabella?”
I nod. Suddenly starved. Craving him and him alone. My mouth waters.
“Good, because this is my restaurant and the chef has been preparing our meal for hours.”
“You’re the owner?”
“Yeah, my Nonna was Angelica.” He smiles. “You like Italian, right? Considering you work at a pizza shop?”
I shake my head in shock. “If you would have led with the fact that you were Italian, Tony wouldn’t have given you such a hard time.” Matt pulls out my chair, and I take a seat. “Your name doesn’t sound very Italian. And you’re blond.”
He smiles, sitting across from me. “It’s Matteo. And I don’t know about the hair — genetics are weird.”
I beam at him across the candlelight. “So, tell me something else about you I should know.”
He leans in close. “I swear to God I’m falling in love.”
Chapter Five
Matt
“Fuck,” I say, shaking my head. “Too much, too fast?”
Mirabella is looking at me with those dreamy chocolate eyes — but they are wide with bewilderment.
“No… it’s just… maybe we get our appetizers at least before we declare our undying love?” Her voice is deadpanned but there is a twinkle in her eye. We both laugh easily, and I take her hand, our fingers lacing over the white tablecloth. Being with her feels like the most natural thing in the world.
“I just want you to know something, before we get our food — in life, I don’t do things halfway. When I go all in, I don’t mess around.”
“What else have you gone all in with?” she asks.
“This business, for one — when my Nonna died and left it to me, it was nearly bankrupt. But I spent nearly a decade turning it around.”
Mirabella smiles. “Now it’s the poshest restaurant in town.”
“And my sister, Lucia, she’s eight years younger than me, but I practically raised her. I did everything in my power to make sure she felt secure and safe. My mom was in and out of the hospital through her cancer treatment, and it was on me to step up and be the man of the house.”
“You’re a good man, Matteo,” Mirabella says with soft smile. “And I’m glad you came into Sugar and Slice yesterday.”
“Me too,” I say, as Sally, a waitress, brings bruschetta to the table, then pours us both glasses of dark red wine. “Tell me about how you and Tony came to work there.”
Mirabella smiles, taking a sip of the wine. “It was my parents’ place. They opened it when Tony and I were little.”
“And your Italian father agreed to the name of the joint?”
She giggles. “My parents were hopeless romantics. They were the kind of couple people write love stories about.”
“Maybe we’re those kinds of people too,” I say, my body aching to pull her close for another kiss. Wishing we weren’t sitting here for dinner, and instead wrapped up in one another’s arms.
“Maybe,” Mirabella says softly. “You know, my parents believed in love at first sight. They always talked about the first time they met, in a high school English class. How they just knew. I grew up with that story, and then, after fighting for my life, beating cancer, I guess… what I’m trying to say is… I believe in that sort of love too, and I also believe that life is precious. That there are no guarantees. My parents died in a car crash. They were gone in the blink of an eye. But they had found love, and they didn’t let it pass them by.”
“You’re gonna make me cry, girl,” I tell her, feeling a deep surge of love for this woman I’ve just met. “You know who you are, what you believe—”
She cuts me off, pushing back from the table and standing up. “I also know what I want.”
Mirabella
I am not the sort of person who asks for what they want in life. I’ve spent a lot of years letting Tony keep me under his wing. But I know — knew, really — the moment I locked eyes with Matteo, that I was growing. Changing. Ready for more. Ready for this.
And now, I take a leap of faith.
Matteo pushes his chair back from the table and stands, taking me by the waist and leading me to the plush velvet loveseat in the corner of the curtained room. It’s sensual, this darkened space, and when he sits down, pulling me into his lap, I let my shoulders fall and my body revel in his gentle touch.
He runs his fingers over my bare skin, the heat between us growing as we inhale, savoring this moment for what it is — the beginning of our love story. We feel it — know it — and won’t let it pass us by.
“God, Bella, you make me feel alive.”
I close my eyes, our noses brush, our lips meet. I whimper as he kisses me, and I run my hands over his chiseled jaw.
He pulls me closer, and I feel his thickness, feel the way my pussy drips with excitement. I feel so ready for what comes next. I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire life.
He runs his hands under my dress, and he groans as he takes hold of my ass, his fingers under my panties, my entrance welcoming and wet. I lick my lips, nodding my need.
“Please,” I whisper. “Touch me.”