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“What was Italy like?” I asked, pulling Richard’s attention back to me so he could stop glaring at the waiter’s back. Immediately, Richard lit up.
“Oh, it was gorgeous!” he gushed. “I mean, I know there are a lot of beautiful places in the world, but I can’t imagine anything beating Italy. You can feel the history; it’s rooted deep into the very earth.”
“Maybe because you’re Italian?” I teased, but honestly, watching someone with such a rugged charm turn into an excited little boy for a few minutes was cute. He laughed.
“I’m not, actually!” he said, surprising me. “Not a drop of Italian in me, genetically speaking. But being raised by who I was, I guess I claim the culture. I’m not Italian, but I was raised Italian, if that makes any sense?”
“I guess it does,” I blinked quickly. My brain whirred over this new information. I didn’t know much about the mafia, but didn’t you have to be Italian American to join? Was Don Marino not really Italian? That sounded like it could be a serious issue internally, so telling me so openly seemed like a bad idea?—
“Alright, gorgeous, slow yourself down,” Richard teased with an indulgent smirk, resting his head on his hands.
I felt myself blush; not only had he called me ‘gorgeous,’ he was looking at me with an amused kind of hunger. If a fox could look down at a rabbit, I imagined it might look something like this. Smug, victorious, fond, and predatory.
My heart beat rapidly in my chest. “I can smell the gears overheating in that brilliant little head of yours.
“I’m adopted. My parents were high school sweethearts—adorable, right?—and they had a messy breakup when dad left for college. While he was gone, my mom was assaulted and had me.” I gasped. “Dad got back, things got wild, and they got back together. Hence my abduction. When dad came to save me, we hadn’t even met yet. Apparently, he hadn’t even known my mom had a kid until that very same night. Still, he was instantly ready to start a war over me. He legally adopted me the same day he proposed to my mom, but he’d already decided I was his son before we’d ever met.”
Richard smiled at me, indulgently giving me a few moments to process everything he’d just thrown at me. I needed it, too.
Wasn’t bloodline incredibly important in the mafia? It sounded like placing Richard in line as the next Don was a risky move, especially when there was another blood-related son. But from what I’d seen, other members of the Marino family seemed to respect Richard. How many of them were acting? Were any of them acting? Was it really that easy for them to accept Richard as their future boss?
And there hadn’t been a single clue. I did not see anything that could hint at Richard being adopted. Mr. Marino called him his son; he called Mr. Marino his father, no, his dad, with total ease. He was a Marino, wholly and completely.
I had never felt so jealous.
“You okay there?” Richard eventually asked. I took a sip of my water to wet my dry tongue.
“I am,” I said, still reeling. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” Richard laughed, and I liked the way his eyes crinkled.
“You can,” he said easily. “It’s not a secret.” I smiled weakly.
“Sorry, I… I have a hard time seeing adoption as a positive thing,” I admitted, unable to look him in the eye. I was ashamed. What was the difference between him and me? A venomous little voice in the back of my mind asked. Why was he worth accepting, and I wasn’t?
I tried to shake that voice loose. I knew it was a liar, but I couldn’t run from something that lived inside of me.
I looked up after a calming breath, finding Richard’s eyes boring into mine.
I felt seen and seen through, but unlike during our first meeting, I didn’t feel like he was determining my worth. He just… saw. I gulped.
“I’m sorry,” he said seriously, brow firm. An unexpected lump lodged in my throat. Why did it mean so much to hear those words from someone who had nothing to do with my early life? “I hope one day you can talk to me about it.”
A strange, strangled noise left me, and I tried to cover it with a strained laugh. This was too much.
“With how quickly we’ll have your father out” I said, trying to be lighthearted, “We won’t have time to get philosophical together. I have every full intention of having him home by the weekend.”
Richard gave me a little half-smirk, but his eyes remained gentle and knowing. I see what you’re doing, and I’ll let you change the subject, they seemed to say. I was intensely grateful and tried not to show it. “Who said this has to stop when the paycheck does?” he asked. My heart fluttered.
“Richard,” I said, “are you suggesting you want to keep meeting me after your father’s case is over?” His sly grin was devastating.
Maybe he would have said something then if it weren’t for the damn waiter stopping us again. Before, it was vaguely amusing; now, I wanted to wring his neck.
Richard seemed to be thinking the same. It didn’t help that the waiter winked at me as he placed our dessert plates down.
“Is this guy stupid?” Richard grumbled, stabbing at his cheesecake. “We could be on a date for all he knows.”
“I’d be more concerned about him not recognizing his boss’s son, and hitting on clients during work” I teased. Richard pouted more like that hadn’t even occurred to him. I had to laugh. How was he so… cute? I knew he was a dangerous man, someone who openly admitted to crime, both violent and otherwise, but more than once tonight, I thought he was sweet.
I could imagine him wanting cuddles while watching a movie or turning up with surprise flowers at his partner’s door. Plus, as much as I was trying to ignore it, the man oozed a raw sex appeal that had me a little distracted when I was with him. He was probably feral in bed—kinky, maybe. I hoped.
