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I suppress a smile. “Sure.” I glance back but he’s not there anymore.
Don’t you dare fucking ask her right now.
You don’t need to know.
You don’t fucking care.
“How’d you know him?” Fuck. My. Life.
“You know Alexis from the club?” I nod. “He’s friends with her,” She pauses. “Almost boyfriend?” Interesting piece of information. Luca doesn't talk much about Alexis, I just know she's around. I wonder how her ‘almost boyfriend’ feels about my brother. She shrugs her little shoulders. “He’s been wanting to take me out for months.”
Months? Only took me fifteen minutes.
“Not into basketball players? Or you like your rich guys out of the public eye?”
She frowns at me and her hand drops away from my arm. “No, I'm just not into him. I can’t fake it, even for money.” Why does that make my chest warm a fraction?
I push the door open leading to the bar and hold it open for her. “Your job is faking interest in men for money.”
She didn’t like that.
Her face hardens as she walks towards me. “Yes, my job between the hours of 9 pm and 4 am. I don’t pretend on my own time.” Her voice turns sharp and I don’t know why but I like it. A lot.
“Yeah, but I reckon you get what you want all hours of the day.”
Her lips twitch upwards and she tries to suppress it. She’s glancing at the floor and she doesn’t see she’s about to bump into a random woman. I reach out for her wrist pulling her back against my front as she walks in front of me. Her hands come to rest on my forearms around her shoulders and I dip my head lower down to her ear. Her hair brushes the stubble on my cheek. “I don’t think there’s a man on earth who could say no to you,” I say quietly.
She lets out this soft laugh that makes me want to swallow it. The feel of her back pressed up against me, her soft ass at perfect height sending heat to my cock that I really don’t fucking need right now. It feels like a live wire under my skin. Like a buzzing in my veins. “It’s a blessing and a curse.” She sings as she skips in front of me, her hand slipping down my arm until she intertwines our fingers. There’s something about the way she’s so ignorant to the world around her, she drags you in with her. She just encaptures you, pulls you into this happy little bubble where everything’s slow-paced and nothing really matters.
9
Casimira
Present-day
Manhattan, New York City
I have come to the conclusion that Enzo Moretti is not human. He has to have some kind of Greek god in his DNA. Zeus maybe, or actually I think Hades is a better guess. He’s the kind of man that shouldn't exist. He's beautiful but all his edges are roughed up like someone’s run sandpaper over his polished image. I love it. There should be some kind of limit to exist on men like him. How are you going to bless a man with such good looks, put him in a body like that, give him the brains to become this successful and also give him game too? It's not fair. I’m doomed. The universe hasn't even given me a fighting chance. He looked so normal today too. Well as normal as someone like him could look. White Palm Angels t-shirt, black shorts with the Off White trainers I've actually had my eye on for a while. And he didn't take me to some stuffy dinner or drinks, he took me to a basketball game.
My heart dropped when I realised we were going to watch the Knicks game. For two reasons. One, Cameron. He’s been asking me to come to one of his games for months and my response has always been ‘It's not really my scene’ when in reality I had sworn off men altogether. Yet here I am, on a date with a man who no doubt could ruin my life. The second reason, the more worrying one set in when we sat down in our courtside seats. These games are televised, meaning there could possibly be shots where me and Enzo are in the background. What if my Ex was to see? I mean it's so highly unlikely but the possibility niggles at me. I stay off social media as much as possible and try to live privately so I don’t deal with him. Him seeing me on a date? I’m not ready for that kind of reaction.
But I'm not thinking about my ex right now. It's hard to think about anything else when a man like Enzo Moretti sits next to me in the driver's seat of his Merc. He’s one of these men who just commands attention from the minute they walk into any room. That much was evident from just spending the day with him. People notice him wherever he goes, he either doesn't notice or doesn’t care.
Like the little creeper I am, I've been sneaking very obvious looks at him all day. I can see more of his tattoos today. A Japanese-style dragon covers his forearm, disappearing up his bicep. The same bicep that keeps flexing as he shifts gear. He drives a manual. Swoon. I really need some self-control. The eye contact he gives me is no help. I could happily drown in those honey eyes.
We pull up to a little restaurant a few blocks over from me. I've walked past it a few times but I haven't had a chance to go inside yet. There's a few empty tables outside, underneath the navy blue awnings, the bifold doors left open to the heat.
There's an older woman with a young man smoking outside of the deli opposite, who waves as soon as they catch sight of Enzo. He smiles back and waves with two fingers as he offers me his hand to get out of his car. He doesn’t stop there, no he continues to lead me in with a hand on the small of my back. He has this protective aura around him, I can’t help but be drawn in. There's an obvious darkness in his eyes. It's as if he’s always a heartbeat away from turning into something vicious, yet I’ve never felt safer.
“Let me guess, Moretti Properties owns this too?” I ask, looking up at the ‘Gios’ sign in white swirly lettering.
“Let's just assume if you see it, we own it.” He winks at me.
“That should be your slogan.” I splay my hands wide in front of us. “Moretti Properties. You see it, we own it.”
He laughs quietly, pushing open the door which makes that adorable little jingle sound. “I like that. Might get T-shirts made.”
“I expect a cut for my artistic talents,” I say as I walk through the door he holds open, my arm brushing his stomach as I pass.
