Nobody is staring, thankfully. The friendly, eclectic neighborhood mix of customers ranging from African American couples to Chinese families to old Italian ladies are all lost in conversation and focused on enjoying their meals. Not me.
“What’s wrong? Why do you keep looking around the room?” Marco scowls.
“Nothing…I—” I’m interrupted when a tall gentleman with broad shoulders, wearing a high quality, dark suit, stands in front of our table. He’s in his late twenties, and his jet-black hair is slicked back like Al Pacino in some Godfather movie. His piercing, espresso eyes send a little shiver down my spine. Confidence and power radiate from the man.
“Marco,” he says with an easy smile, giving Marco a hard pat on the back. “How the hell are you, man?”
“Matteo,” Marco exclaims, sliding out of the booth. It’s good to see you.”
“It’s been way too long, brother.” He kisses Marco’s cheek. “And who is this lovely woman?”
“This is my friend, Mila…Mila, this is my best friend since grade school, Matteo. We grew up together…his family owns the restaurant.”
“It’s a pleasure, Mila.” He extends his hand, and when I place mine in his large palm, he leans over the table and takes it to his lips for a drawn-out kiss.
“Okay…that’s enough,” Marco says, playfully.
“Relax, Marco. I’m not trying to steal your lady.” Matteo shrugs his shoulders. “Although, she can probably do better.”
“Always an asshole.” Marco shakes his head, still grinning.
“Did you tell her I was your bodyguard back in grade school, protecting you from all the bullies? All girls.” He covers his mouth, loudly whispering the last part to me. “He could kick my ass now,” he says with a wink, standing straight with a confident posture.
“I could definitely kick your ass now.”
Matteo’s eyebrows raise with amusement, and he grins. He nods toward the two large gentlemen in the corner of the restaurant, also wearing expensive suits, observing us with a fierce gaze. “Maybe. You look like you still got some fight in you. You’d have to get through them first.”
“No fights tonight, man.” Marco throws his hands up in surrender before retaking his seat. “Just here for a good meal.”
“Well, you came to the right place. Mary’s in the back tonight. I’m on my way out, but I’ll make sure she sends out a spread for you and your lovely date that will blow your mind.”
I’m about to argue it’s not a date, but Matteo quickly says his goodbyes with his goons in tow, after promising Marco he’ll stop by the gym so they can catch up.
“Oh my God, Marco,” I whisper, glancing around. “Are you in the mafia?”
“Shhhhh…” he says, trying not to laugh at me but failing miserably. “I’m not in the mafia.” He leans in and quietly speaks, “Matteo?” He shrugs. “Maybe.”
I search around the room nervously. Everyone is having fun, not caring one bit they’re sitting in a mafioso restaurant.
“Hey, relax…Matteo is my friend. Our families have known each other forever. We even used to vacation together upstate at Villa Roma. Leah is his sister.”
“What?” I shriek. Now my mouth is really hanging open.
Marco continues to chuckle until he notices the uncertainty on my face. He reaches across the table and grabs my hand, setting my skin on fire. “We’ve been friends since playing stickball in the street was still a thing. The bond is still there, and while I understand he’s involved in…certain things, I don’t need to know anything about, I know if I need a friend, he’ll be there for me in a flash.” He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. When he releases my hand, my skin is still warm and tingly from his touch. “Like he knew I’d be there for his little sister, Leah. He knows he can trust me.”
I know growing up on the Brooklyn streets is like that. You meet so many different people from so many different walks of life, bonding with them for life. I think back to when I was a little girl in my dad’s gym. All his friends would come in and talk and laugh for hours, bonding over boxing. It saddens me I don’t have that anymore. Marco notices my gloom and slides across the bench, putting his arm around my shoulder.
“You’re perfectly safe here. You’re always safe with me. I don’t know what he did to you—”
“No one did anything to me…and if they did …it’s none of your concern.”
“You’re right. It’s not. I just want you to trust me. Let’s enjoy the meal and the company. I enjoy spending time with you.” He slides away from me; back where he was initially seated, and holds out his palm. “Friends?”
It’s hard to resist those puppy dog eyes. I hesitate before shaking Marco’s hand, and he pulls it to his lips like his friend. Matteo’s kiss didn’t give me goosebumps, but Marco’s sure does. “Friends,” I confirm.
We sit in awkward silence for a few minutes until a waiter brings over two humongous plates, an array of appetizers on them, that we didn’t order. One has hot appetizers and the other is a beautiful antipasto plate. We both request the manicotti, and Marco orders the classic minestrone soup. I sadly decline the wine because I’m driving.
“It’s ninety-five degrees out, and you’re eating soup,” I smirk.
His face curls into a smile, and he lets out a husky chuckle. “Jaw’s still a little stiff,” he says, piling a ton of fried calamari onto his dish.
“How did you get a broken jaw, anyway?” I inquire, plucking a few olives and some cheese from the antipasto.
“Helping out an old friend.”
“Is that why you ate my yogurt?”
“It was the only thing soft in the fridge.” He gives a half-shrug before a sexy grin lights up his face. As soon as he smiles, I have to press my legs together. “Truthfully…I was in the mood to see you’re beautiful face. I knew you’d come looking for me.”
I draw in a long breath, feeling the flush creep up my cheeks. I continue to stare at him as he enthusiastically consumes his food. All of a sudden, I’m picturing all the ways Marco could use his mouth on me. My lady parts are in a tizzy over here, wishing he were devouring me. I clench my legs together, focusing on his soft, full lips as he chews. They’re perfect for kissing. I squeeze my thighs together, thinking about what it would be like to brush my lips across them. I wonder what his tongue would feel like on my…
“You okay?” He stops chewing and takes his napkin off his lap to wipe his mouth. He shoots me a devilish grin, continuing to stare at me through his thick lashes. He clears his throat before taking a long sip of his water. He focuses on my mouth like he’s trying to memorize my lips.
He teases me all the time about how turned on he makes me with that sexy body of his, and dammit, he’s right. Marco turns me the hell on, and I’m terrified. Not that I’m afraid of sex, but I think with Marco, I’d instantly become addicted to him.
“Fine,” I manage to squeak out. I’m seconds away from dragging him out of here and into the back seat of my Honda. Thankfully the food is delivered, and we dig in.