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What Angelo didn’t know, was he always had eyes on his cousin, always. He wouldn’t allow anything to happen to his city and to those closest to him because of it.
“In four months,” The Boss said. “I think this city has been in mourning too long. This will be a huge event. One that will really capture the essence of the city and bring back peace, security, and happiness.”
Diego clenched his hand around the fork, and all he wanted to do was leave this dinner. Gatherings like this were a tense affair.
“I wouldn’t get so comfortable either, Angelo,” The Boss said. “You will be next to be married.”
“I don’t need to be married, sir. I’m just a mere made man.”
This made all of the guests go silent. No one questioned The Boss. Even Diego never did.
“A word, now!” The Boss got to his feet, and Angelo had no choice but to follow.
Diego watched them leave, and he noticed Charlotte had tensed up.
“Will you be planning the wedding?” he asked, trying to distract her.
“My mother is preparing everything. I go for my fitting next week. She wanted me to ask you if you’d like to be part of the cake testing.”
“Cake testing?”
“We need to decide what cake we’d like to have.”
“Whichever you like is fine with me.” This wasn’t his first wedding. It didn’t matter if the cake was delicious or if the flowers were from the right imports. A marriage could still end up fucked up.
Look at him, he was a widower, just like he told Belle. He simply left out the part where he was the one to make himself so.
The Boss returned, but Angelo did not.
Angelo had to go and get stitched for his insolence as The Boss had stabbed him. It was a pity they didn’t just kill him. Angelo was a pain and a pest, one that needed to be dealt with, but Diego seemed to be the only one who saw through his act.
After dinner, he escorted Charlotte back home, declining a drink, and made his way back across the city. He had every intention of going back to his apartment, but he instead, ended up at Angelo’s where Belle was on stage, playing the piano.
He moved toward her private booth where he had a perfect view of her. Tanya, the waitress who’d been paid to help Belle, brought him over a drink.
Alone again, he watched Belle.
He didn’t know why the fuck he had come back.
If he was getting married in a matter of months, he had to make plans for his wife, not for Belle. Since meeting her, she’d been on his mind, and it had only been on a computer screen he’d seen her. Once he saw her in person, heard her speak, he was so fucking drawn to her, it was eating away at him.
She didn’t have a clue who he was, and rather than irritate him, it had given him a heady feeling.
When the song came to an end, she sat waiting for any requests, but none came. She always did this, and he found it such a sweet action. Waiting, always calm, always happy. She started to play, and he saw the smile on her lips.
It suddenly dawned on him he’d never seen women in his life happy. His first wife had been miserable, as had his mother when she was alive. He couldn’t recall, other than a few mistresses, ever seeing women happy.
Belle looked genuinely happy playing the piano. Even to a roomful of people who didn’t give a shit about what she was playing or who for. Still, she kept on doing it, for her own enjoyment? He wasn’t sure.
Nothing made a whole lot of sense to him anymore, especially not why he was sitting here again, watching her.
She finished her last piece before being led by Tanya back to the booth. He stayed perfectly still, not even touching his drink in case the ice clinked in the glass. Tanya handed Belle a bottle of water and left without saying a word.
“You’re back,” Belle said.
“You know I’m here?”
“Yes.”
“How is that possible when you can’t see me?”
“I can smell you.”
“Smell me. Do I smell bad?”
“No. You don’t smell bad. Your cologne lingers in the air. It’s how I can tell. Normally the booth is plain, no scent other than my own.”
“Ah, I will have to be careful sneaking up on you.”
“You want to sneak up on me?”
“Are you flirting with me, Belle?”
She gave him a light laugh this time. “I have no idea. Does it look like flirting?”
“I guess only if you want to be caught at the end of it?”
“Where’s the fun in being caught? I thought the fun was all in the chase,” she asked.
“Then you clearly haven’t been caught by the right guy.”
“Clearly not.”
He noticed her cheeks were flushed, and from the press of her tits, she was aroused. Interesting.
