Page 87 of A New Days Don

His expression drops and sours, “Of course I want to spend time with you.”

“Then quit rushing the couple in front of us with your terrifying glares and enjoy the extra few minutes you get to hang out with me because after this, I’m going home.” I insist, and he chuckles.

“Well, now they better start hurrying along because my woman just told me we are headed home after this, and I have been dying for another taste of your pussy.” Massimo growls loud enough to turn a few heads, returning to his glaring contest with the back of the couple’s heads.

My jaw drops, “Massimo!” I whisper shriek.

His returning laugh is full and decadent. The man behind the counter begins to look nauseous by the sound, but all it does is make my chest swell with emotions I should not have for this man.

“What? It’s true, and if these people don’t hurry the fuck up, everyone in here is getting a bullet between their eyes before I ravage you in their blood.” He says that loud enough, the elderly couple turns in horror, Massimo grinning happily at them while giving them a curt nod.

Memo received. The couple rushes an order, and Vincenzo, behind the counter, gives them their order, rushing them along so quickly, they don’t have time to pay. Over the counter, he gives both Massimo and I a wary look, his greying hair and weathered skin emphasized by the stress Massimo caused by making a scene.

“Hi Vincenzo, it’s nice to see you again,” I tell him, looking through the case at the variety of decadent and fruity flavours. He doesn’t respond back to me until Massimo pulls me into him, growling like an animal at the poor man.

“Good afternoon, Mila.” He stammers, “Take your time, but do let me know if you would like to taste any of them.”

Satisfied, Massimo kisses the top of my head before pointing to the pistachio, “If you like pistachio ice cream, you should try the gelato.”

I turn to look at him, my face inches from his. His dark eyes drink me in before he presses his lips to mine. I pull away the second he starts to let his hands wander, and his tongue tries to explore my tonsils, “I wanted stracciatella again, but they are out.”

His brows furrow as he glares towards the case, his gaze connecting with the empty tub.

“Vincenzo,” Massimo straightens, and so does Vincenzo. The older man’s Adam’s apple bobs with uncertainty.

“W-we are still waiting for the most recent batch to freeze properly.” He stammers. In that very moment, I realize that informing Massimo of minor inconveniences may not be the best idea.

“Mas, it’s fine,” I tell him, his whole body loosening as his gaze returns to mine, looking at me as if I told him the secrets of the universe. My lips tug into a gentle smile, “The pistachio sounds great, plus last time I regretted not getting yours.”

If I’m being honest, I usually regret not getting what the other person got whenever I try new restaurants. That hasn’t happened in a long time, but last time we were here, it was a stark reminder of how much I love trying new foods.

Before Massimo can argue or worse, do something rash, I get up on my tiptoes and use my hand to pull his head down enough so I can place a kiss on his lips. His eyes widen, but despite his surprise, he melts into the kiss, a low groan escapes him, his hands gripping me bruisingly.

I pull back and turn to Vincenzo, “A small pistachio in a cone and a small amaretto in a cup.”

Vincenzo gets right on it. Massimo pulls my chin delicately, so I am facing him once more, “You kissed me.”

He looks at me with awe, his eyes taking me in as if he is questioning if this is a dream.

“I did,” my cheeks flush as I realize how easy it was, almost like second nature, as if kissing Massimo is as natural as breathing. Maybe it is.

“Mila…” Massimo gets serious, and my chest tightens, but before he can say a thing, a muted, yet still piercing, pop rings, the sound of glass shattering, then sudden pain explodes from my shoulder.

Everyone in the gelato shop begins to scream and rush from their seats, but I don’t have a chance to react as Massimo pushes me behind him, his eyes honing in on where the shot rang out from. My chest constricts, and all the screams turn into a distant din ringing loudly in my ear. I look down at my shoulder, and blood pours out of the clean wound in a steady rhythm.

Oh, God… That is gross.

My head becomes light and airy as I struggle to lock my knees.

I should put pressure on that.

Someone bumps into me, and I stumble into Massimo’s back.

“Ouch?” I murmur, but it’s more of a question because I can’t feel a thing.

Massimo spins, his cold, bloodthirsty face falling in an instant.

“Mila!” Is he panicking? Why would he panic?