He pushed the wine toward me then sat there, obnoxiously handsome under the white lights, a dark watch on his wrist, some of his ink creeping up from the neckline of his t-shirt.
I was certain I’d never been so uncomfortable in my life.
Leo started to devour his food just the way Wolfe did when I cooked for him at home.
Wolfe gestured to the plate, asking me to serve myself. “Ladies first.”
It was a cool evening, but I started to sweat like I was in a sauna. My father was smart, observant, and had the intuition of a woman, so he might pick up on something between us. But judging from the uncontrollable smirk on Wolfe’s lips, he didn’t give a damn about that.
He was having the time of his life.
I grabbed my fork and spun it in the pasta while Wolfe served himself before he pushed the dish farther down to the head of the table where my father could reach it.
“You still driving from Palermo every day?” Leo asked as he ate with his elbows on the table.
“Sometimes,” Wolfe answered honestly. “Gonna look at a few places tomorrow. Just a couple miles down the road.”
“Nice,” Leo said.
“Are you in the village?” Wolfe asked, knowing full well my brother lived on the property.
“No, I’m farther out,” he said as he looked over the edge of the patio. “Way the fuck out there.”
“Must be a nice commute.”
“I used to live in the village. Preferred living above a café and down the street from a bar, but I got tired of all the driving—and the parking situation. It’s quiet out here, and the girls love it.”
“The girls, huh?” Wolfe teased.
“A lotof girls.”
Wolfe gave a quiet chuckle and continued to eat.
“You got a girl?” Leo asked with a mouthful of food.
Cristo. “Leo.”
“What?” my brother asked. “Just making conversation.”
Wolfe took a bite and chewed, and then he looked right at me, head on, with a hint of that possessiveness he constantly showed. “I’m working on it.”
It was as if hewantedto get caught.
My father loaded this plate with the shrimp scampi pasta and then grabbed a few pieces of bread. “Everything looks great, Frankie.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said.
Elio served himself next.
My father took a couple bites then looked at Wolfe. “What do you think about handling Luigi’s operations, Wolfe?”
Wolfe ripped his slice of bread in half and dragged it through the sauce on his plate. “Whatever you want, boss.” Now that my father was paying attention to him, he looked at him instead of me. He put the bread in hismouth and chewed, all the strong muscles of his jaw working, his jawline even sharper when it was momentarily flexed.
I could finally breathe.
“But we might want to consider our other options,” Wolfe said.
“What do you mean?” Dad asked.
