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“Cesare isn’t your typical nice guy.”
Being so tight, I had to assume Matteo and Leo fit that description, too.
Seeing as he’d come down on me quite hard outside his friend’s building, I had an idea.
Having a cup of coffee with him.
Nice and casual.
Not that his looks didn’t deserve a date. Matteo was almost as tall as Cesare, with dark hair, brown eyes, a short beard and one hell of a strong jawline. Yet, I had already gone out with his friend. I wasn’t going to pursue Cesare, but I had no intention of coming between them. Besides, I doubted Matteo would want to date me anytime in the future, either. His attitude the other day had convinced me of that. To him, I was just a nuisance. Some sort of pest that he had to stay away from.
I texted him that afternoon, hoping he wouldn’t turn down my suggestion.
“Hey, Matteo. Piper here. Are you free for a cup of coffee tonight? Say six o’clock?”
“Talk about surprise. What do you want, Piper?”
“Nothing much. Just to ask you a few questions. It won’t take long. I promise.”
“Okay. There’s a nice lounge café near my neighborhood. ‘Jean Paul’s.’ You know where it is?”
“No, but I’ll find it. See you later.”
A sense of satisfaction was splashed onto my face.
This wouldn’t be a typical get-together of a man and a woman, trying to get to know each other. I didn’t view it like that. It was just an interesting way to spend my afternoon. No lingering glances. No staring at my breasts or my thighs—hopefully. Matteo would speak and I would listen. It sounded simple, and I hoped in my heart it would stay simple. That’s all I wanted from him. To hear my questions and answer them. If not all, then, most of them.
Jean Paul’s was indeed a lovely café.
Couches and lounges were spread across a spacious hall. Light fixtures were suspended from the ceiling, blue, green and red lights providing a relaxing illumination. A mixed scent of coffee and cinnamon rushing into my nostrils, I scanned the café for Matteo. He was in the lower left corner, well away from the glass façade.
There was something different about him. I could tell that, the minute our eyes met across that beautiful hall. He had a funny smile on his face. It wasn’t wide or sarcastic or anything of that sort, but it was there. And I would have found the reason behind it, had I known him just a little better.
“Welcome to Brooklyn,” he said, gesturing me to the seat across from him.
“Thanks,” I smiled back at him, leaving my purse on the table. “I didn’t know Brooklyn had nice cafés like this one.”
“You’ll be surprised,” he assured, a young waitress stopping beside me.
“That cappuccino sure smells delicious,” I told her, putting a grin on her skinny face. “I’ll have one. Thanks.”
“Make it a double for me, Francesca,” he requested, setting his arm on the armrest. “So, what is it you wanted to know?”
“So much,” I uttered in a low voice, crossing my forearms over the table. “You looked a little funny when I walked in.”
He shrugged his shoulders, his relaxed posture speaking volumes. “I’m just feeling good these days.”
“Matteo, I, um…” I paused, contemplating how to phrase the rest of my sentence. “I’ve been wondering about the three of you. I mean, obviously, you’re doing stuff that you’d rather keep under wraps, but aren’t you scared?”
“Every minute, every day,” he revealed, his tone unchanged. “That’s why you wanted to meet with me? That’s why you drove here all the way from Manhattan? To ask me if I’m scared?”
“That, too,” I responded in a sharp manner. “Did you hear about that heist up in Westchester?”
“I read about it online,” he said with a series of nods. “Gutsy operation.”
“Gutsy?” I repeated his last word with a squint, somewhat surprised by the adjective he had used to describe it. “Three people got killed, and you call that gutsy?”
“Threecriminals, sweetheart,” he corrected me. “I take it you read just the headline.”
