Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I had nothing to bring.
“You gonna be a good boy?” I asked, moving away from Silvano to pet Storm’s head where it was hanging over the edge of the couch. “We’ll leave the TV on for you,” I added, turning up the volume.
“He’ll be fine, Mills,” Silvano said, placing a hand at the small of my back, and physically moving me away from my puppy. And the guilt I was clearly feeling at leaving him alone. “We’ll be gone two hours, tops,” he added, grabbing for his own keys, then moving out into the hallway with me.
“What?” Silvano asked when I paused outside of the door.
“It almost feels, I don’t know, wrong to be outside,” I admitted.
“That’s probably all the more reason you need to get out,” he said as we walked to the elevator.
“So, where are we eating?” I asked as we moved outside.
“Twelve Tables,” he said, his hand shooting out again to rest at my lower back, stopping the movement since I was about to walk down the street. “It’s too far to walk,” he told me, leading me toward the edge of the curb.
I was expecting him to hail a cab.
But there was a black sedan idling at the curb.
Silvano nodded at the man in the front, then reached to open the door for me.
This definitely was feeling more and more like a date.
Right?
Or was that just wishful thinking on my part?
I guessed time would tell as I slid into my seat, then heard Silvano slam the door before making his way to the other side to move in beside me.
His body brushed mine from knee to shoulder in the backseat as the driver pulled away from the curb, then wove into traffic.
It was silly—girlish, even—how acutely aware I was of him right then. The scent of him. The brush of his body against mine if either of us shifted, or the car made a sudden movement. I could feel the heat of his body through his clothes, and had the almost overwhelming urge to lean into him, to feel his arm go around my shoulders, and pull me close.
I couldn’t shake the thoughts the whole drive that was, objectively, not very long, but it seemed to take forever thanks to the thick traffic.
We probably could have gotten there in half the time with the subway, but Silvano likely thought the jostling of the subway car would be too much for me still.
Twelve Tables was a little cozy-looking restaurant wedged between one place offering sushi, and the other selling mystery books.
It had a black awning out front and warm lighting inside.
Silvano didn’t pay the driver, or say anything at all, as we moved onto the sidewalk, just sent the man a chin incline. And that was it.
I watched the car pull away, that same suspicion, buried for days, coming back to the forefront of mine.
About Silvano’s profession.
This man who was around twenty-four-seven. Who was never on his phone or laptop. Who clearly had money, but didn’t seem to do much to earn it.
Then the interaction with the driver.
Like maybe the guy worked for him or something like that?
Definitely some sort of criminal.
Maybe even some higher-up criminal, who had other people doing all the dirty work for him, while he sat back and counted his cash?
“You coming in or what?” Silvano asked, making my head snap in his direction, finding him holding the door open for me.
“Sorry. Got distracted,” I admitted, waving toward the city as a whole.
“Ever been here before?” he asked as we moved inside.
“No,” I admitted. “I’ve always lived in cities, but never one this big.”
“Costa,” Silvano told the hostess, pretty with her dark hair and tight red dress just this side of scandalous.
Still, Silvano barely even spared her a glance as she checked her book.
“Right, Mr. Costa,” she said, and her posture seemed to go rigid. Like his name meant something.
Totally, totally a criminal.
“Let me just make sure your table is cleared,” she said, offering him a big, but tight, smile before turning and walking away.
A party of five or six moved in behind us in the small entryway, making Silvano take a step forward, plastering his front to my back, his hand resting casually on my hip.
Sure.
Yeah.
Maybe he was some big shot criminal.
But my body went all melty when he was so close.
“Cold?” Silvano asked.
“No,” I said, but it wasn’t until after I spoke that I realized the little shudder that moved through me was a whole body one, not an internal one.
Which explained the little chuckle that moved through him as the hostess rushed back.
“Right this way,” she said, grabbing menus, then leading us through the tight little restaurant, and back to a quiet corner.
Silvano’s hand pressed me toward the chair facing the back of the restaurant, leaving him sitting facing the door.