Page 87 of The Don’s Omega

Marco turns and nearly collides with a guy carrying a tray of food. He disappears into the back of the restaurant, shoulders bowed.

Sofia stays rooted a moment, looking like she’s in front of a firing squad. Elio looks up at her and his face gentles.

“You’re doing great,” he says. “Honestly, who could possibly think straight with him blabbering at you every minute?”

She blinks at him, looking uncertain. “I… I think he means well.”

“No he doesn’t. You don’t have to defend him.” Elio scowls. “He’s a bully. He needs to train you, not belittle you. Let’s forget about him for now. How about you tell us what you would order from the menu if you were having dinner.”

“Me?” she squeaks.

He laughs. “Yeah, you. Is the octopus good?”

She nods. “Uh… yes, it’s really good. So is the branzino. In fact, everything here is really good. The chef is a genius.”

“I love branzino and octopus.” Elio smiles at me.

I’m so happy for that smile, I immediately say, “We’ll have the branzino for two. And the crudo and the octopus.” I meet Elio’s gaze. “Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” he says.

“All ex… excellent choices.” Sofia gives her first real smile. “I’ll go get the bread. Sorry I forgot that.”

“It’s okay,” Elio says.

I nod. “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s just bread.”

She walks away.

“Thanks for backing me up,” he says softly.

“Of course.” I hold my wine glass up and he automatically does the same. We clink glasses. “I’ll always have your back, Elio. I’m your alpha.”

“Three years isn’t always,” he says softly.

I smile to hide my irritation. “I’ll have your back as long as you’re my omega, how’s that?”

He shrugs. “Certainly more accurate.” He sips his wine, avoiding my gaze.

I’ve never wanted to strangle and kiss someone at the same time until now.

To lift the mood I ask him about Fabio and his face brightens immediately. We discuss the upcoming surgery and all the things he worries about. I reassure him everything will be fine and he relaxes. Even if he’s mad at me, it’s hard for him to ignore his alpha.

I tell him a little about what I’ve been dealing with at the casino. It’s my way of explaining why I haven’t been around as much as I’d like to be. He listens, and we fall into easy conversation with each other, which pleases me. I hate being at odds with Elio. It eats at something inside of me if he’s not happy with me.

The food, when it comes, is faultless. The crudo is clean and bright, the yellowtail sliced thin and dressed with citrus. The octopus comes charred at the edges and tender the whole way through. It’s the kind of thing a lesser kitchen turns to rubber and this one gets exactly right. Dinner makes it clear the food is not the reason the restaurant struggles.

When the branzino arrives, a server debones it at the table with two spoons, quick and practiced. The showmanship is impressive, but the fish is even better. The skin is crisp, and the flesh falls apart at a touch. Even dressed with nothing but lemon and oil and a little salt, it’s absolutely delicious.

Elio eats enthusiastically. I’m happy when he stops scrutinizing the room and instead focuses on enjoying his meal. I watch him more than I eat because he’s so enjoyable to look at. The harbor burns down to deep blue behind him and the deck lights come on. I suggest dessert to Elio, but he’s too full.

We’re getting along so well, I hope that he’s warming up to me again, but when my knee brushes his under the table, he moves his leg. Then when my fingers touch his when we both reach for bread at the same time, he draws his hand back as if he’s been burned. So he’s still upset with me for some reason.

I’m frustrated because I can’t figure out what his problem is. I explained why I was so busy, but he’s still being cool with me. I missed him this week. All I want is to feel that closeness again. That’s the truth. I don’t just want his body, although I want that too. But I missed just talking to him. Laughing with him.

By the time Anthony brings the car around, the moon is in the sky overhead. It reflects off the dark water like a flood light. Elio’s quiet again on the drive home. I want to reach over and take his hand, but I don’t. I have butterflies just thinking about touching him though. I want him in my bed tonight, if he’s willing. But I worry he’s still upset with me.

When we arrive home, we go upstairs together. When we reach his room, I push down my nerves and ask, “Do you want to come to my room tonight?” I feel breathless as I wait for his response.