Page 20 of Silver Sinner

"And I like my drinks to remain inside their glasses while you're sawing at the damn thing."

Moses puffs his cheeks as he grumbles and slumps back in his seat. "Whatever."

"Don't be grumpy," Layla laughs softly. "Listen, we have a new pasta dish that we're trialing and I think you will both love it. It's a sweet, slightly spicy tomato-y sauce with chicken or aubergine, depending on your preference.

And a lot of cheese.

It's not typically what we serve here, but the cooking classes at the church were pasta dishes this week and the cook is eager to show people what she's learned." Layla glances between us and taps her pen on her pad. "Interested?"

I open my mouth to agree but she quickly continues.

"And if you don't like it, then it's on me, so you're not wasting money." Her eyebrows wiggle slightly and she grins.

"We'd be delighted." She could sell me anything and I'd eat it with a smile.

"Oh, that reminds me, did you get your pie the other day?" Her stunning eyes lock onto me. "After everything was so hectic, I wasn't even sure if you were able to get them."

"We got them. Someone ate the entire salted caramel in one sitting," I reply with a glance at Moses.

Moses grumbles under his breath about stress-eating while Layla laughs. "I'm glad you got them. Everything was so… up in the air. Which… thank you, again, by the way. For what you did. And walking me home."

"Anytime," I say softly. "I mean that."

She nods, and a hint of pink rises across her cheeks. Then she looks down at her notepad. "Do you want the usual coffee? Taylor actually scrubbed the machine, so you might get a cup without that odd metallic tang on the back of your tongue."

"Sounds lovely. Maybe some extra sugar as well," I say with a wink. "Just in case."

Layla chuckles to herself, then suddenly blushes and turns away as if the noise of her own laughter embarrassed her. "I'll get that right to you."

It's hard not to stare as she hurries away to put the order in. The sweeping curves of her big ass are perfect to take handfuls of, and I'm struck with how soft and sweet she'd feel in my arms. It's a fleeting thought that I swallow down out of respect for her, but when I turn back to Moses, he's grinning.

"I get it now."

"Get what?"

"Why we come here three times a week. Why we kneecapped that cunt."

My eyes narrow. "I told you. I like the atmosphere."

"Sure. You like the shitty coffee and the leather steaks, and you like putting out the air that you're a down-to-earth guy, so your men respect you. But I know the truth. You were jealous."

My chest tightens faintly. "There are a hundred reasons for me to step in like I did."

"Sure, and all are valid. But you took it personally when he insulted her, didn't you? Because you like her. Admit it, you're here for the eye-candy."

Had those words come from anyone else, they wouldn't have lived long enough to say anything else. People making any kind of assumption about me gets my nerves up, but Moses? He sees me in the same way Layla seems to.

"I resent that," I snap quietly. "Yes. I enjoy her presence. I enjoy her smile and I enjoy…" I pause as she comes back out to the counter and deals with another customer. "I enjoy that when she looks at me, I feel like me. Just me. Not anything attached to work or business or my reputation. I'm just me."

Moses's eyes narrow slightly and then he laughs. "I knew you had a heart buried in there."

"Shut up or you'll be wearing your pasta."

He rolls his eyes, and despite the teasing in his laugh, there's something genuine in his eyes. Almost like he understands exactly what I'm trying to say. In my youth, I was happy to flaunt my wealth and my power. I liked men cowering under me; I liked being loud, arrogant, and dangerous. Not now. Making it to my age in this line of work is an achievement in itself and my appreciation of life has changed.

Or maybe it's my appreciation of her.

She serves us coffee and returns ten minutes later with the pasta dish, a meal that's as sweet as it is spicy and a cut above what is usually sold here.