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“No, raw fish doesn’t sound good right now.” She wrinkles her nose and I grip the steering wheel tighter.
“Italian it is.” I know an incredible mom-and-pop restaurant that has the most fantastic Italian food. My phone starts ringing and I push the answer button.
“Speak, Axel, and Eve is with me, so if it’s not urgent I want to enjoy my dinner.” The line is silent then I hear in the background, “Pay up, motherfucka. I told you I wasn’t lying.” Loud catcalls and cheering fill the background.
“I’ll talk to you when you get back. I don’t want to ruin your… date.” He kind of trips over the date part, but in this instance, I get it. If it were reversed, I wouldn’t believe it either.
“I’m going to take her to my house. If you need me, I’ll be there.” I hang up because I don’t want to hear anything he’s going to say. Axel knows that besides my mother, no woman has ever entered my house. I turn left onto Ventura Boulevard then pull up to the side of the little red-and-green Italian restaurant and let the valet take over. A small group of people stand outside waiting, but I know I’ll get a table. I reach for my phone and watch as a douchebag probably around Eve’s age opens the door for her. He’s blond and seems to want me to beat him up since he can’t stop looking at her. At last, he glances at me and slinks away. I take the valet ticket and reach for Eve’s hand. Walking straight past the group, we both blink at the darkness as we enter. I scoot her forward to the hostess while our eyes adjust to the room. It’s painted in a wine red with a shot of Sophia Loren and her famous pout, her cleavage hanging front and center. A signed movie poster of The Godfather hangs nearby. The floor tiles are painted different colors giving the atmosphere a sense of fun. It’s one of the reasons I picked this place. Not only is the food amazing, Eve will be comfortable. Frank Sinatra is singing and I have to fight a grin thinking of the last time we heard Frank. I hope this night ends better than that one.
Before I even get to ask for him, Gino appears.
“Blade, my friend, welcome.” His big smile almost rivals his huge stomach.
I’ve known Gino for years. When he needed money to start this place up, I floated him some. He paid me back in no time and has brought over a bunch of cousins from Italy to help him. His place is legit. The guys and I come here when we want exceptional food and to get away from shit.
“My God.” He covers his heart dramatically. “Who is this enchanting creature?” He holds out his hand and I watch, amused as Eve looks at me with an eyebrow raised and allows Gino to kiss her hand.
“I have been around the world and I swear I have never seen such beauty.” He keeps holding her hand as he brings us to a table in the corner. The white tablecloth and candle make it look romantic.
For a moment I falter, wondering if I’m tempting fate. With all the shitty things I’ve done in my life, why would I ever think I could have this? And yet as she smiles at me and sits in to the offered chair, I wonder, why not?
“Thank you.” Her voice does it for me. Shit, everything about her does it for me.
“Shall I bring some of my special stuff?” He waggles his eyebrows at me, and I can’t not chuckle.
“Please, Gino, we’d love it.” He spins around and I’m always amazed at how well he can get around. He’s not a thin man. I turn to Eve and take her hand, I guess because I can’t stop touching her.
“What are you feeling tonight?”
She inhales and peeks around, then clears her voice. “Whatever you think is good.” Her hand shakes a little and I frown. I want her to enjoy this not be nervous.
“Angel?” Her big blue eyes shyly find mine. “You are exquisite. Every woman wants to be you and every man wants to fuck what’s mine. You order anything you want.” I watch as she swallows, her thin neck almost beckoning my thumb to find my mark. I reach up and pull her hair back over her soft shoulder, lightly running my thumb over the Disciples brand. I should feel guilty, but fuck that. This turns me on more than I will ever admit. It means I’m keeping her.
“Here we are.” Gino returns and I reluctantly move back a little so he can set down the menus. The waitress places the flutes filled with Gino’s family’s prosecco. He has an uncle in Italy who makes it. Another waiter brings bread.
