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“I really want to get to know you, Frankie. Last night, I was warned by the old guy behind the bar to stay away from you, but the thing is, I don’t think I can,” I whisper back to her. I notice her chest rising and falling quickly, and I know that I affect her. That makes two of us because, fuck, my heart is beating out of my chest, so she damn well affects me too.
“I… I don’t think that is a good idea...” she whispers to me again, our eyes not wavering from each other’s, not even for a second. I lean down, my lips now close to her ears, so close now that I can hear her heartbeat. “Do you feel this too? Do you feel what I feel?” I ask, wanting confirmation that this isn’t one sided.
“I do,” she breathes out so softly that if I wasn’t leaning down to her, I wouldn’t have heard.
I move my head slightly so that I am looking at her, our noses nearly touching. We are sharing the same breath as I lean in slowly and take her lips. Gently, so softly at first as I bring my hand up and cup her cheek. My movement has the desired effect, and she opens her mouth just a little, enough for me to go deeper and delve into her mouth with my tongue, finally tasting her, my want and need for her growing as my other hand comes up and cups the other side of her face. I am all in.
It appears that she is too because she brings her hands up and grabs my wrists, hanging on to me like she doesn’t want me to let her go. She is giving just as much passion back to me before we both remember where we are and pull away slightly.
I look at her again, a small smile of satisfaction on my face because I realize that we are just as hot together as I thought we might be. She is blushing slightly as she pushes her glasses back up her nose and touches her lips with her fingers. I grab her hand and kiss it in an old fashion move to rival any 1950’s movie and hold it in mine, not wanting to let her go and wishing like crazy we were somewhere private where I could kiss her like that again.
“Marco!” Simon shouts my name to let me know my coffee is ready, and I nod in acknowledgement to him. Our spell has been broken, and when I look back, Frankie is writing something down in a notepad. She rips the paper before packing up her things into her small backpack and begins to stand.
“I need to go,” she says, now standing in front of me, chest to chest. I am still looking down at her, since she only comes up to my shoulders. I place my hand on her hips and pull her closer to me. On reflex, her hand lands on my chest and grips onto my suit jacket.
“I will see you at the bar later?” I ask again, trying to get her to commit a time to me.
“No,” she whispers to me again for the third time which deflates my mood, but then plants a small kiss on my lips. Her eyes flick to mine before she quickly moves around me, but I feel her hand near mine as she pushes a piece of paper into it. She walks out of the coffee shop, dashing past the few paparazzi who by reflex have snapped her photo on the way out expecting it to be me, and my eyes follow her until she walks around the corner with her head down, out of sight.
I walk over to Simon to collect my coffee, not really needing the energy hit from the caffeine any longer. He gives me a knowing smirk before I give him double my usual tip and race back to my office.
I haven’t opened the piece of paper yet. I want to be alone and in the privacy of my office when I open it. I’m not sure why, but I feel like this is a big step for Frankie, and I know whatever it says is either going to break me or elate me.
I step out of the elevator and walk swiftly past reception like a man on a mission. I yell to my assistant to hold my calls for the next 30 minutes as I close my office door and lock it. I am panting because Frankie has me so worked up that I don’t know how I am supposed to feel. I put my coffee on the desk and sit on the edge of the brown leather lounge I have in the corner of my high rise office. I take a second to look out at the view to catch my breath. Looking down, I open my palm and uncrumple the note.
It’s an address on Willow Street, Beacon Hill, walking distance from my apartment, and with it, a message.
7pm, I hope you like pasta.
Frankie.
I smile and feel like a superhero, I think my girl just asked me on a date.
8
Frankie
I am walking back and forth the length of my sitting room, my stomach in knots about what I did today. I jump between elation that I have asked him to my place for dinner, and fear because now that I have asked him, the danger to me and him has just increased substantially.
How could I have been so stupid. It is not fair of me to pull him into my web of danger that is the New York mob, and guilt is already eating away at my insides. But I can’t deny him. I can’t say no. I also can’t be honest with him. I can’t tell him who I am or anything about me, because he would run a mile. If he turns up tonight, I don’t know how I am going to maneuver the conversation away from me when he asks. Oh God, what am I doing?
I have the fresh pasta sauce on the stove, and the homemade pasta that I grabbed from Sofia on my way home is ready to boil. I used fresh basil and garlic from my rooftop terrace garden, and I have a nice bottle of red I nabbed from Alf at the bar.
He knew what it was for, and he wasn’t pleased, but he gave it to me anyway, along with a warning look. I know he will tell Sebastian, most definitely putting me at the receiving end of his wrath, but there is just something about Marco that I can’t get out of my mind. I think about him constantly and even dream about him. I tried to have a nice low key morning at a new coffee shop today and then he walked in. I can’t escape him now, even if I tried.
My apartment buzzer rings right at 7pm. I expected him to be punctual. He always looks so well put together whenever I see him, never a hair out of place, so it is no surprise that he is on time. I buzz him straight in without saying a word after seeing him on the small screen that shows the camera footage of the front door. I watch as he walks in and the door closes, immediately locking behind him. The sound is one you would hear in prison, and I see Marco flinch and quickly turn to look back at the door because of it.
Sebastian paid for increased security on this place before I moved in. There is only one way into my apartment and that is through this front door. I am on the second floor so although I have windows, they aren’t easily accessible, and the rooftop garden is mostly hidden away from view as well. There is no one in the apartment below me since Sebastian secured both of them, and even though it’s made up to look lived in, it isn’t. The only people that need to come through the front door of the small complex are those that are here for me. So far, it has only ever been Alf, Sofia, Sebastian… and now Marco.
There is a brief knock on my front door, and I move toward it, knowing the minute I open it that the game will change. I am not sure if I am ready, so I stand there in front of my closed door taking a few breaths. My hands are shaking a little, and my heart is racing. I take one more deep breath, exhaling all my fears and then open it.
He takes up the entire door frame with his height and build. He has on blue jeans and a white shirt with a few buttons undone, enough for me to get a glimpse of his fit body underneath. I am wearing flats, so he towers above me even more and I need to look up to meet his eyes. When I do, they are striking. They are glistening with adoration and happiness. His smile is huge, and he holds what is an amazing bunch of peony roses which I know are not in season at the moment. But of course, the King of Boston would probably have a florist on standby to fly these things in for him at a moment’s notice. They are gorgeous and such a nice gesture.
“Hey, beautiful. These are for you.” He holds out the flowers, and I take them in my arms, putting my nose to them as I take a deep breath. Closing my eyes, I breathe in the aroma; the beautiful smell making me think of springtime and new beginnings. I open my eyes and look at him, returning his smile.
“Thank you. No one has ever brought me flowers before, they are amazing. Come in.” I encourage him to step through the door and into my small sitting room. I close the front door behind him, lock it, and turn to walk around him toward the kitchen to find a vase, which I already know I don’t have because flowers are not something that I indulge in.
As I brush past him, his arms shoot out and he grabs my waist and pulls me close. He lowers his head and places his lips on mine, gently, like he did earlier today and my knees go weak at his touch. I lean into him, offering him more and a deep growl escapes his chest. His hand trails up my back, leaving goosebumps in its wake before landing on my cheek to pull my lips closer as our kiss becomes more demanding. I pull back slightly and our foreheads touch, both of us a little lost for breath. Our attraction for each other is palpable.
