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“Excuse me?”
“This table. I asked for the best. This isn’t it.”
“Nero,” I interrupt, “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine.” As if to demonstrate his point, the kitchen doors fly open and a server emerges—just a few feet away from my chair.
The hostess looks troubled. “We’re fully booked tonight.”
Nero doesn’t blink. “I’m sure you’ll be able to accommodate us.”
“But—”
Before she can object again, a man in a suit comes rushing over. “Mr. Barretti!” he gushes, looking anxious. “Is there a problem?”
“Not if you find a better table for me and my wife.”
Nero’s still casual, but everything about his body language screams power. Commanding the room without a single harsh word.
I shiver. Is it terrible that I find him so sexy right now?
“Of course, of course,” the manager stumbles. “I’m so sorry for the mix-up, please, give me just a moment.”
He makes a beeline for the middle of the room: the best table in the house. There’s a trio of diners there in the middle of their meal, but all it takes is a word, and they’re suddenly being moved to another table. Busboys swoop, servers clear, and in no time at all, we’re being settled in our new dining spot.
That’s the kind of power that Nero wields so effortlessly. Everybody in this building knows, he’s king.
I gulp, cheeks heating as I accept the menu. “Thanks,” I mutter.
“Champagne, please, as a personal apology.” The manager pours it himself, then melts away.
Nero raises his glass and gives me a smile. “Now, this is more like it, don’t you think?”
“I can’t believe you just did that.” I glance around. People are turning back to their meals, but still, I see the occasional wide-eyed stare.
“Why not?” he gives a shrug. “You deserve only the best.”
I roll my eyes, but he’s not kidding. I look around again, clocking the candlelight and romantic flowers. And Nero, sitting across the table from me, looking like he wants to devour me right here and now.
My pulse kicks.
“So… Is this a date?” I venture.
“It’s dinner,” he replies, shaking out his napkin. “With my wife.”
I shiver again, I can’t help it. Hearing him say the word like that, so confident and possessive… It makes my nipples tighten.
And I can tell, he sees.
“I like that dress,” he says, lips curling in a knowing smirk.
I flush, but I try to stay cool. “Tell me the real reason we’re here,” I try again. “You never do anything without an agenda.”
Nero’s smile doesn’t dim. “I’d say seeing you sitting there, in that dress, is reason enough.” His eyes travel over me, hot and blatant, and it feels like he’s already undressing me.
My blood runs hotter.
He beckons the waiter over, and orders for us both. When he’s gone, I give him a look.
