I take a deep breath when I get to Bellissima’s. This would be an incredible place for a first date if my date wasn’t in the Mafia. More than justinthe Mafia. He’s next in line—in Las Vegas, at least. A Mafia prince. That’s what Sarah said. I don’t know how any of that works and I’m not eager to find out.
“Get in, get out,” I mutter as I step into the restaurant. “And if it comes up, I’ll… try to get something Sarah can use for her podcast.”
A flicker of confidence radiates inside me as I scan the restaurant. Massimo is seated at a table in the back. He’s got a glass of wine in front of him, and an empty glass in front of my seat. He lifts his head and I force a smile when he spots me.
Then I’m trapped in his piercing gaze, and something more primal than fear makes my knees wobble.
This was a really bad idea.
CHAPTER 4
Massimo
All of the troubles plaguing my mind seem to melt away when I see Lea walk into Bellissima’s.
For a moment, she’s the only thing that matters. She’s wearing a red dress that hugs her curves perfectly. Her gorgeous green eyes reflect a hint of nervousness. First date jitters, perhaps? Is that what I’m feeling, too? No, that can’t be it. I haven’t done this in a really long time, but I was never thejitterstype. I see what I want and go after it—but I can’t do that tonight.
Tonight is just to take my mind off everything. A short mental vacation. Keeping up appearances. If Emilio is anything like me, he’s got someone watching and reporting my every move. He’ll be surprised to hear that I’m on a date, but I doubt he’ll care. Not if he’s decided to eliminate me because I’m in the way of his ambitions.
I stand up when Lea approaches and walk around the table to pull out her chair.
“You look ravishing,bambina. Simply ravishing.” I motion to the chair and she sits down.
“Thank you,” she whispers, picking up her napkin and rolling the edge between her thumb and index finger.
Nervous. Definitely nervous. That’s not a bad thing. If she’s nervous, it means she likes me. And she’s here. That means I made a good first impression on the boat. I shouldn’t care about that. There’s no future for us. I’m too broken and the only thing left in my heart is poison. But I can sit across the table from her and share a nice meal. Talk. Feel like a regular human being instead of a miserable wretch for a little while.
“How are you feeling?” I ask as I return to my chair and pour a glass of wine for her. “Stomach okay?”
“Better,” she says, then winces. “But still a little queasy. I probably shouldn’t have any wine.”
“At least have a sip,” I encourage. “If you don’t like it, we can order something else. I’m sure they have ginger beer if you’d prefer, or ginger ale if you don’t want alcohol. How’s your hand doing?”
“It’s fine.” She shows me the Band-Aid.
“Good, good,” I say. “Try the wine,bambina. Tell me what you think.”
She nods and puts a hand on her glass, then she turns the label of the bottle toward her. “Morandi Vineyards. Is that your family’s vineyard?”
“It is,” I confirm.
Lea lifts the glass of wine and takes a tiny sip. Barely enough to flavor her tongue. She swishes it for a moment and swallows, but her face stays neutral.
“Is it terrible?” I ask, watching her reaction carefully.
“It’s good…” she says apprehensively, then she takes another sip and nods. “Really good, and I usually don’t like wine.”
“Like I said earlier,” I chuckle, feeling a bit better now that I know she likes the wine. “Sometimes it’s delicious poison.”
Lea smiles, but it looks unnatural and forced. Nothing like the beautiful one I saw on the boat. Something is bothering her, and I don’t think it’s just nerves. I shouldn’t care, but I can’t let go of it. There’s something stirring inside of me—a beast that I thought was dead.
“So, do you come here often?” she asks, putting the glass down and folding her hands in her lap. “To Isola Selvaggia?”
“No, not really,” I admit. “But I don’t want to talk about me. I’m boring. I want to talk about you.”
Redness tints her cheeks and she looks away. It looks like she wants to say something, but she shakes it off.
“I-I doubt you’re boring,” she laughs and I detect even more nervousness in her gaze when she looks back at me. “I’m the boring one. What you see is what you get.”
