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“What the hell is this?” I scoot away from Castor, somewhat disgusted. “Are you assholes trafficking in public bars now?”
Castor snaps his tongue. “Will you cut it out, Gia. Didn’t you hear the man? These women want to be here.”
“I should start my shift.” I wiggle toward the end of the booth, and my breath hitches when his warm hand grips my arm.
“Gia.” His tone is stern, pulling my gaze back to him. “It’s not like that.”
I eye his fingers, and he releases his grip. “Oh? What’s it like?”
“It’s just a date. A little fun we have after big jobs. Keeps the family tight and talking, alright?” He pats the seat next to him.
He’s commanding when he has to be, while somehow retaining an air of smoothness. Then again, he didn’t have to say much to keep me here. Because I want to be at his table.
“Do you participate?” I ask, remaining at the edge of the booth, making him think I can dart away at any second. I’m aware enough of my own pining to like that he wants me to stay.
“Maybe, once in a while. But it’s just because I haven’t found the right girl yet.” His eyes don’t waver, and my throat runs dry.
Another sip of my drink should do the trick. There’s no way Castor is hinting at—no. No way. He’s never even glanced at me wantonly before. His eyes holding my gaze after not seeing him for so long comes roaring back, more than recognition… No, stop it, Gia. Marco would kill us both.
Yet I find myself scooting a little closer to him, unable to deny the yearning I’ve held onto for so many years. When his hand reaches for my knee under the table… I don’t swat him away.
Chapter 3
Gia
There’s no telling when I last exhaled. I down my entire drink in a flash as the models are paraded around on stage in some sort of upside-down world mafia pageant. And that’s not even the weirdest part – Castor DeMatteo, my brother’s best friend – has his hand firmly around my knee.
The lights are dark, and the marble table blocks everyone from our little secret. And my own little secret is how drenched my slit is because of it. Honestly, I’m scared to look up at him, because he might take it as a green light to do something naughtier.
That wouldn’t be so bad though, would it?
“Our second beauty from the Bronx comes seeking adventure. She wants a date that involves axe throwing, zip lining, or hiking while boozing. This little firecracker needs a real man to wine and dine her, not some lazy schmo!” The announcer presents a curvy Latina woman who’s confident enough to blow a kiss at her audience.
“Guess I’m out!” Big Ace shouts from a table over, and the whole crowd laughs, including Castor.
I giggle too, but then my elation fleas when Castor removes his hand.
No. Stay! I plead in my head.
I guess I didn’t give him the right signal. Now I’m turned on and intrigued. What if Marco walked in right now? What would he say? Those are rhetorical questions.
One tiny scoot closer to Castor is all he’s going to get out of me, so he better use my gesture as a cue to bring that hand right back to my leg. Test the waters, you big hot oaf.
He leans his head down toward my ear. “What do you think, should we bid?”
I slap him in the chest, a goofy smile on my face. “Idiot.”
His cackle rumbles like a throttle. It’s throaty and hot. Now that he’s so close, his warmth radiates like a furnace that I want to curl into. His musk is that of high-end cologne, just a spritz.
That same waitress walks over again to clear our drinks.
“Another round, please,” Castor says, and I finally look up at him when the waitress struts away.
“You trying to get this girl drunk, Castor?” I can’t stop myself from being flirty.
“No. Never. Just being a decent host to my boy’s kid sister.”
“I thought I’m supposed to be working,” I test.
