Arrogant Prick: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (4 page)

Sarah lets out an excited yell. She gathers all the bags together, grabs my hand and walks me to my private bathroom. “Put these on and get out there, girl! It’s a ten-minute walk if you hurry!”

I look down at my outfit. She’s right. I can’t meet Gio in this. I’ve never dated anyone as hot as him. Hell, I’d never even
met
anyone as hot as him before the other night. I need to step up my game.

I rush into the bathroom and change into the new outfit. Good thing I’ve just had a makeover. The romper feels light and breezy on my body. It’s exactly my size. Sarah walks into the bathroom as I’m staring at my ass in the mirror to see how much of it is on display.

“God, I wish I had your ass.” She smacks my booty lightly, eliciting a low yelp. “If you’re wondering, exactly the right amount is hanging out. You look perfect.”

She looks into the Agent Provocateur bag and clucks her tongue at what she finds inside. “I guess you can save the lingerie for your second date. You don’t want to set impossible standards on your first date.”

I grin in return, but then my smile falls as I remember who I am. “How am I supposed to leave looking like this? Marco and Rizzo are going to know something’s up.”

Sarah wraps her arm around my shoulder and leans in conspiratorially. “That’s why you have your BFF. Marco’s probably still not here, and I can distract Rizzo.” She bends over and twerks for a few seconds. “I know he can’t get enough of this. You just head out the back door while he checks out mine,” she says with a laugh.

I laugh along with her. “Okay, okay.” I grab my purse and head for the door. “Anything to get you to stop talking about butt sex, sheesh.”

* * *

I
pick
up my pace as I spot the sign for Fuel down the next block. The street is busy this time of the day. Delivery vans crowd the road, and the cacophony of sirens and horns play the familiar soundtrack of the city.

My phone buzzes in my hand as I stand on a crowded corner waiting to cross. It’s Gio.

You’re being followed.

My heart jumps in my throat and I swing around to look behind me. The sidewalk is thick with people, and I don’t recognize any of the faces.

The crowd rushes across the intersection and a couple of hipsters walk by me, rudely staring at my ass. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, I tug on my romper, trying to give my ass a little more coverage. Why did I let Sarah talk me into wearing this? Why did I let her talk me into going out to meet Gio? Now I’m going to get caught.

The phone buzzes again.

Come inside and quickly head out the back door. I’ll be waiting.

I breath in deeply, trying to calm myself. I can’t blame Sarah for this. This is my own decision. But the fluttering in my belly makes me worry it was the wrong one.

Resisting the urge to look around to try and see who’s following me, I head into Fuel.

The door jingles when I open it and enter the heavily air-conditioned shop. The place looks like it’s brand new, and all the decor's completely on-trend. A heavily pierced and tattooed barista looks up from his phone as I walk in. He doesn't greet me, and he gives me an almost hostile stare before looking back down at his screen.

I return the favor and ignore him as I head straight for the back door. I step back out into the warm June air and practically jump out of my wedges when I hear Gio’s low voice.

“You look amazing,” he says admiringly.

I want to respond with a similar compliment, but my words are caught in my throat. My eyes sweep over Gio, enjoying the sight of him. In the bright afternoon sun, it’s almost like I’m viewing him for the very first time.

He’s wearing practically the same outfit he had on when we first met. His tight t-shirt is so white; I’d guess it’s brand new. The sleeves are wrapped tightly around the tops of his bulging biceps. The fabric is stretched so taut over his massive pecs; I can see through his shirt that the tattoos on his arm continue onto his chest.

“I love how your ass looks in this.” He steps in front of me and cups my ass with both hands, taking my breath away.

Before I can protest, his lips crash down against mine, and he swallows my words with a flick of his tongue across my bottom lip. His knee presses between my legs, and I feel his thigh rub against the thin layers of fabric separating my pussy from his skin.

He pulls away, staring into my eyes, and I’m completely speechless as I try to catch my breath. He grabs my hand, pulls me away from the building and all I can manage is to follow him. He leads me into an alley past three parked motorcycles and out onto 86th Street.

The sidewalk is thick with tourists and locals alike. A bike messenger gives us a curious glance as we emerge from the alley, but quickly looks away once he sees my scowl. Gio takes my hand, leading me across the street between two cabs stuck in traffic and we blend into the crowd on the opposite side.

“How did you know I was being followed?” I can barely keep up with his pace.

He presses his way past a group taking selfies in front of an olive oil bar. They look like they want to say something, but they hold their tongues when they get a better look at Gio. “I was watching you.”

“Is that your thing?” I try to put humor in my voice, but I’m half-serious. I don’t know anything about him. He could be an obsessive stalker for all I know. My heart starts beating faster as I think about how little I actually know about him. Why am I risking everything for a guy I barely know?

We turn a corner onto a slightly quieter street. Gio finally slows down the pace until we come to a stop outside a small Italian restaurant. The hand-painted sign hanging from its green awning reads: Marcello’s. He takes both of my hands in his and locks eyes with me. “I knew someone would be following you, and that you’d want to be alone.”

My stomach flutters. He’s right about both. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy to get out of Hush in this outfit without someone noticing.

I stare into his gray eyes, trying to read him. Who is this guy? All I know about him is that he’s the sort of guy who’s willing to fuck a woman he barely knows in a parking lot. And he’s hot enough to make it seem like a good idea. I break eye contact and look down at the ground, worried I’m making all the wrong decisions.

He lifts my chin with the tip of his finger and brushes his thumb against my cheek. His touch feels like fire on my skin. “I know what you’re thinking, and you don’t have to worry. This isn’t a mistake.”

I open my mouth to reply, and he steals my words again with a light kiss. “Let's go inside.”

The restaurant is a quaint little place with eight tables and a small bar in the front. There’s an adorable elderly couple at one of the tables. Every wall is covered from hip height to the ceiling with racks of wine. We head toward a booth in the far corner. He waits for me to sit before sliding in from the other side.

“Gio? Is that you?” A middle-aged cook appears from the kitchen door, wiping his hands with a towel. He throws the towel over his shoulder and nods graciously to me. “And you have company. Beautiful company, if I may be so bold.”

Suddenly feeling shy, I smile and mumble a thank you.

The cook suddenly gets a serious look on his face, and lowers himself so he can speak quietly to Gio. “My heart goes out to you, Gio. If I’d known where you were, I’d have written you.”

Darkness passes over Gio’s eyes like a storm cloud before quickly receding. “Don’t worry about it, Marcello. I know your heart’s always in the right place.”

“Good, good.” He looks between the two of us. Hopefully I don’t look as curious as I feel. What’s he consoling Gio about?

He places a menu in front of each of us. “I’ll be back shortly. Don’t worry about the wine. I’ll bring you something nice on the house,” he says before stepping away.

I turn to Gio. “Did something happen?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about.” His voice is stern, leaving no room for argument.

I try to ignore my burning curiosity and quietly peruse the menu until the cook comes back with a bottle of red. “This is a 2005 from Campania. You’ll love it.”

Marcello uncorks the bottle and pours a bit into Gio’s glass. Gio takes the glass, smells it, and drains the cup empty with a satisfied look on his face.

“Amazing as always, Marcello.”

The cook nods his head. “You’re too kind, Gio.” He fills both of our glasses halfway.

We place our orders and he heads back into the kitchen after excusing himself politely.

Gio takes his glass, and I take mine. “
Salute.
”

“
Salute.
” We clink our glasses together in a toast. I take a big swallow of wine to calm my nerves. It really does taste amazing. I look at Gio, trying to figure him out. He’s got a body that would have inspired Michelangelo, and a confidence about him that almost borders on arrogance. But I really don’t know anything else about him.

He catches me staring at him and grins.

It drives me crazy. It’s the same grin he had on his face when he first chatted me up at Hush, and the same one he gave me right before he threatened to fuck me better than any other man out there. I shift in my seat, vividly remembering the effect those words had on my body.

“Is Marcello a friend of your family’s?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to drop my face into my hands. That was a really lame start.

“Is that really what you want to ask me?” He smiles through another sip of his wine.

“I’m not really sure,” I admit. I feel his thigh press up against mine under the table. Either his skin burns hotter than the sun, or he’s driving up my temperature just by being so close to me. “I don’t know much about you at all.”

He rests his elbows on the table and leans toward me. I watch his tattoos shift over his rippling muscles. “What do you want to know?” he asks.

“What do you do?” I ask.

He barks out a laugh, drawing startled looks from the other couple in the restaurant. I lean back against the padded booth. I didn’t take the risks I did coming out to meet him to be insulted. “What’s so bad about that question?” I ask, trying not to show how irritated I am.

“It’s what you ask someone at a party.” He takes my hand and rubs it gently with his thumb. I wonder if he can feel my pulse picking up through my hand. “It’s an icebreaker for when you really don’t have anything meaningful to say. I’ll ask you again. What do you really want to know about me?”

I leave my dominant hand in his and awkwardly take a drink with my right hand. I wish I could make it less obvious how attracted I am to him. “Okay, fine.”

I can play his game, too. I lean back in toward him and smile. His eyes drop to my low neckline and the corners of his lips lift into an appreciative smile. “Why were you at Hush?” I ask.

He grins and bites his bottom lip, sending my stomach aflutter again. “I was looking for someone.”

“Was it me?” I don’t know why I asked that. What if he says yes? That’d make him a stalker, wouldn’t it?

“No.”

I try not to show my disappointment. Maybe he was looking for another girl and settled for me instead. Am I just looking for an excuse to end this date and return to the dull safety of my normal life? “Did you find the person you were looking for?”

He leans in close till our faces are mere inches apart. “Yes.”

“Was it a woman?” There’s a surprising amount of heat in my voice. Why would I care if he was looking for a woman? Would it really be surprising if a guy who was willing to have sex with me in the lot behind my club sleeps around with a lot of women?

“No.” My stomach stops doing flips. At least I wasn’t his second choice for the night.

I open my mouth to ask him a follow-up question, but he speaks up first. “Now that I answered a couple real questions, time for you to answer mine.”

I take another swallow of the wine, hoping it’ll slow down the pounding in my chest. “Alright. I guess that’s fair.”

“Who’s your keeper?” he asks.

My mouth gapes open at the question. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He smiles. “Exactly what I asked. You’re a kept pet. Who’s holding your leash?”

“Do you not realize how rude that question is?” I push my glass of wine away.

“One thing you’ll get to know about me is that I don’t like to beat around the bush.” He takes the bottle of wine and refills my glass before pushing it by the base back to me. “You were being watched at Hush, and there was a man following you on your way to meet me. It’s not much of a leap to assume you’re someone’s girl.”

I cross my arms over my chest. I'm feeling defensive, and I don't like it. He reaches out and takes one of my hands in his. “A girl like you should belong to someone worthy.” He brings my hand to his mouth and presses his lips against my fingers. His kiss sends a jolt of energy coursing through my body. “I want to put my collar around your neck. Make you my pet.”

“And what makes you think I want to be your pet?” My voice is thick with sarcasm, but my body loves everything he's saying.

“How long has it been since you’ve had a proper fuck?” he asks.

I yank my hand back from his. “Is this really how you sweet-talk girls you want to sleep with?”