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“This place is amazing,” she whispered. “I can’t believe we’re actually here. I mean, I heard there was a six-month waitlist.”
I shrugged, but I wasn’t a braggart, and she wasn’t a fool. “I know the owner. He owed me a favor. A business thing. I called it in.”
The smile spread across her face. The significance of what I’d done hit me then as well. I could have taken her anywhere in New York or the surrounding area. Mitchell’s was the first place that came to mind. The restaurant was named for its chef-owner Ryan Mitchell. He was the cooking world’s latest phenom, a gourmet chef to the stars with a pristine palette and a taste for illegal narcotics. He didn’t buy them from me or my people, but when he needed help to secure the restaurant because he burned through his loan, that favor he owed me... well, it would take more than one dinner to pay off his debt, but it was a start, and he was eager to oblige. He got to keep cash in his pocket, and I got to impress the girl.
“You travel in high circles.”
I shrugged again and offered no more explanations. Instead, I experienced a feeling that was foreign to me. I searched my mind for a memory of ever having not wanted a date to end. I couldn’t find one.
I ordered coffee while I stalled, looking for a way to prolong the evening. We weren’t in an area where taking an after-dinner walk made sense. We’d ordered dessert, so finding a late-night diner for pie and coffee wouldn’t work. Fortunately, fate was on my side.
I noticed Suzanne’s grimace after she sipped her coffee.
“Not good?”
She shook her head. “Bitter. The food was phenomenal, but all the cream in the world won’t help this coffee.”
“I know where we can get a better cup. I’ll pay the bill, then we can go, unless you need to get home.” I tried to be a gentleman. I wasn’t sure I was very convincing until Suzanne smiled.
“No. I’m in no hurry. Just let me know what my half is.”
I made eye contact with the server across the room, then turned back to her. “Your half of what?”
“The bill. We can split it.”
Over my fucking dead body. Even if the date had been a dud. Even if she bored the hell out of me and revealing the location of Hoffa’s body would be the only thing that could save this date, I still would have paid for her.
I couldn’t think of a gentlemanly way to say it. “That’s not how I work, sweetheart. It’s my privilege to take you to dinner. I asked you out, remember?” The words may have been gentle, but I couldn’t keep the growl out of my throat.
“Okay.” She leaned forward again. This time, I was not as tempted by the sight of the curve of her breasts pushing against the delicate black fabric. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m not offended and stop apologizing to me.”
I growled again when she opened her mouth and she looked like she was going to say she was sorry again. She clamped her mouth shut, then opened it again but was interrupted by our server’s timely arrival.
“Sir,” Lara began as she leaned down to speak close to my ear. She either had no respect for boundaries or she had a secret to tell me. Across the table, I caught Suzanne’s bemused expression.
I leaned my head back so Lara’s lips were far from my ear.
“Chef Mitchell has asked me to tell you that dinner is on him tonight and he’d be happy to host you and your friends on any occasion in the future.”
I nodded and turned my head away from her, relieved that she had shared the information as discreetly as possible. Despite the circumstances that had brought me to Mitchell’s, which in hindsight might have been a bad idea, I was still trying to blend in. If word circulated that the hottest new celebrity chef in town owed me favors, my attempts at being a regular guy were all for nothing, which brought a new list of problems to mind. I hadn’t thought this through. My attraction to Suzanne caught me off guard. I acted on it before I devised a workable strategy. For date number one, I could work around it. But if I continued seeing her, there were obstacles I’d have to deal with. I was well known in the business and to others in the criminal underworld. I had connections in government and in the financial sector. Most of the time, I didn’t give a fuck if anyone associated my name with something sinister. My reputation worked in my favor.
If Suzanne googled Gabriel Calegari, she would be shocked by what she found. Or would she? Sebastian St. Valentine was no saint but from what my intelligence revealed, his was a solo operation. My spies had found no information that led me to believe St. Valentine’s family was involved in his illicit business affairs or that they were aware of his illegal actions. Like most crime lords, St. Valentine had a front for his illegal business. Judging by what I knew of his mother and his sisters, there was no indication that hinted they knew who their brother really was.
To be honest, I respected St. Valentine for his discretion. Both Dante and I went through sometimes exhausting lengths to keep my mother and sister as far away from the family business as possible. It was never directly spoken of in front of either of them, but our family history with organized crime ran deep. Lilly knew. My mother knew. Not specifics. Never anything dangerous, but they were both intelligent. My parents had been very close until my father’s death. It was a different world back then, but it was unreasonable to think my mother was kept in the dark except by choice.
Would the name Calegari mean anything to Suzanne? Would it make her shake with fear or tremble in anger? Would revealing my full name be the tipping point that ended the pretense?
Was it a pretense? I wanted to use her, to drain her of any information she might have. To teach her brother a lesson he wouldn’t forget. If she found out who I was too soon, I’d lose those opportunities. I’d have to find another way. I learned long ago to never rely on one path but rather a network of branches reaching and stretching for all possible outcomes. I always trusted my instincts, and they told me it was too soon to risk the truth. If I wanted more of her, and I did, then I had to continue to hide in plain sight.
Suzanne smiled at me across the table. “So I guess it’s a moot point.”
“No. It’s not moot. Make a note for future reference.” If she had any doubts about my long term interest in her, that would lay the foundation for her belief. We stood to leave, and I slipped my arm around her waist as we walked across the restaurant. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
She looked over her shoulder at me. “You do, don’t you? You’re so sweet.”
I laughed at that. “I’m many things, but I’d be lying to you if I let you believe that.”
“Well, I guess I’ll have to give you the chance to prove me wrong.”
That day would come. One day, she would look me in the eye and call me the liar that I am. Tears would stream down her face as she fought to catch her breath. Yes. That day was closer than I wanted it to be, but it was inevitable.
But it wasn’t this day.
“Challenge accepted.” I hugged her a little closer as we stepped through the restaurant door and out into the cooler night air. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
She tipped her head back and flashed that beautiful smile at me again. “Spending it with you.”
