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“Are you good?”
My sister’s brow furrows since they picked me up and they were going to give me a ride home. Matteo sounds just as confused as she looks.
“Aren’t we taking you home?”
“No. I think I’ll stop at Spotlight on the way home. I want to see if the new security cameras are capturing more of the front line.”
That’s not a lie. I just hadn’t planned to do that tonight. I force myself not to look in Michelle’s direction. Even if she isn’t waiting by her car, I want to call her. She said call, not text. I’m down with that. I want to hear her voice, and I want to see if I can make her laugh. I don’t know why that’s so important to me since I can’t see that little dimple, but I want to know I can make it appear.
Matteo nods as he closes Maria’s door.
“All right. Are we set to go over the new build tomorrow? Carmine said he can meet at ten after he drops Serafina off in Harlem.”
I’m an accountant, and Matteo is an architect. Carmine is our construction project manager because he’s a structural engineer.
“Yeah. Tell him to bring the cookies and to not eat all of them this time. I know his wife’s the baker, but he could fucking share.”
Matteo grins as he suggests an alternative.
“I could have my mom bake a batch. They’re just as good.”
“They are. But I want Carmine to have to share. Little fucker.”
Matteo laughs. His mom, Auntie Carlotta, was the best baker in the family before Carmine married Serafina, who owns two bakeries. Carmine brags and rightfully so, but it’s annoying when he eats everything she sends before any of us can get so much as a bite.
“Good night, Enzo.”
“Night.”
I wait until Matteo’s in the car, and the engine is on. I know I hold my breath, but that’s my little sister along with my friend. There’s always the risk. I breathe easier as they pull away. I turn around and notice Michelle’s car is still in the same spot, but she’s not standing next to it. I look around before I approach. She’s sitting in it, but she gets out when I’m almost to the hood. She didn’t want people to see her waiting. When she looks at me, her face flushes dark pink.
“I have never written a note like that in my life.”
I cock an eyebrow and smile.
“You don’t enjoy crunching numbers?”
Her face is scarlet now. It’s adorable. That’s not a word I use often. My niece is adorable, but she’s six months old.
“Taxes are complicated.”
“Only if you don’t have a good teacher.”
She notches up her chin, some bravery coming back to her.
“And are you teacher of the year?”
“Only if you’re my star student.”
We stare at each other. Where is this going? This isn’t the type of flirting that usually happens outside a movie theater. As least, I didn’t think it was. This usually happens over cocktails at a nightclub like the one I own. That makes me think about having her come to Spotlight and slipping onto the dance floor with her. Her body pressed against mine. Her pussy rubbing my thigh. My hand on her ass. My tongue in her mouth.
Holy fuck. Slow the fuck down.
But I can’t. No one has had such an impact on me since — well, forever. I’m no monk, and I haven’t been a virgin in more than a decade. But I can’t remember ever wanting a woman so much. And yes, I absolutely want to fuck her, but I also want to talk to her. I want to make her laugh again. I want to see what she’ll say next. But reality hits me when I look around.
First, I’ve been standing with my back to way too many people. Second, she’s standing with me, and I can’t see who’s around us. I can’t protect her. Third — wait. Protect her. The need to keep her safe — from me and the rest of the world — presses down on me. If I were a good man, I would walk away. I would have nothing to do with her. If she wants to be around New York’s underworld, she can do it through Laura. I should back off. But I can’t.
I seem to think that a lot.
