His (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance)(14)

My skin prickles.

“Aubs? You were just about to get to the juicy bit, you can’t just start staring off into…what’s wrong?” She looks over her shoulder in the direction I was looking.

The man with the newspaper looks up again and sees us both looking. He says something into his phone, hangs up, and then leaves, but not before giving me a really fucking scary glare.

I run my hand through my hair, doing even more damage to the work I put in this morning, but I’m so far from caring about my hair right now that it barely registers. “Aria, I don’t think I should involve you.”

“What?”

“Maybe I can tell you more if it’s—when it’s safe. Just…right now is a bad time. I-I really have to go. I’m sorry.”

I’m about to leave when the door to Panera opens. I see the reactions of the girls behind the counter first. All four of them suddenly check their hair, eyes locked toward the entrance of the restaurant. I follow their gaze as Aria turns in her chair to look, too.

He walks in the glass entryway looking so incredible that it’s almost comical. The rising morning sun silhouettes him in his impeccable black suit with a red shirt. He takes his sunglasses off and runs a hand through his thick hair, pushing some back, but a few stubborn strands still fall over his forehead. He walks straight toward me, his eyes never leaving me, never noticing that every woman in the store is staring like Brad Pitt just strolled in.

I can’t move. When he gets closer, Aria turns around quickly, bulging her eyes at me and mouthing holy shit and biting her lip.

Vince stops at our table, pulling up a chair and sitting in it backwards. He casually puts his foot on my chair, resting his elbow on his raised knee. I swallow hard. I’ve had enough time to think about this. I didn’t expect to see him here. I had also convinced myself that he couldn’t possibly be as good looking as I remembered. I was right. He’s better looking.

“Hey,” he says, making the word sound somehow obscene, like it has fingers and they are sliding under my clothes and caressing me.

Aria is completely motionless, except for her eyes, which are raised to look at him.

“Please leave,” I say.

“We had a deal. Dinner. Remember?”

I purse my lips. “I changed my mind.”

Something dark flashes behind his eyes, but he covers it quickly with a smile. “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

He leans a little closer, lowering his voice a little. I distantly notice that the entire store is unusually quiet, everyone seems distracted by him. “I don’t give up that easily.”

I don’t break his gaze. My dad always said I was stubborn. I’m not proud of it, but his challenge brings it out of me. “Then this will be hard for you.” I look away from him, taking a slow sip from my coffee and sparing a glance for Aria, who looks like her eyes might actually pop out of her head. If I was anywhere else, I would burst out laughing.

He taps his skinned knuckles on the table twice, nodding and pushing his beautiful lips out thoughtfully. “We’ll talk soon.” He stands, giving the chair a quick twist with his wrist so that it spins perfectly back into place where he found it. He leaves without looking back, and conversation hesitantly begins again once he’s gone.





9





Vince





“Ma, come on,” I say with a chuckle. “I can’t eat another fuckin’ bite so stop askin’!”

“Vinnie, watch your fuckin’ mouth!” she shouts at me while waving a big metal serving spoon.

I raise my eyebrows. “It’s your fault Ma, you’ve got the dirtiest mouth I’ve ever heard. You’re lucky I can even complete a sentence without swearing.”

She leans down and pinches my cheeks. She’s the only one who can get away with that. Anybody else touches me without my permission gets a bullet or a broken nose at the least. With her, I just smirk and shake my head. She’s the classic Italian mom—pleasantly plump, red cheeked, quick to anger and even quicker to protect the people she cares about. She’s a real fire-cracker, and I love her for it. The boys just call her Mrs. Citrione.

Then there’s Pops. He doesn’t get his hands too dirty with the business end of things anymore. My brothers and I do that. He’s got my older brother, Frankie “The Mouth” running the muscle. Someone steps out of line, Frankie is the one you go to. The whole mouth bit is kind of a joke. Frankie is a man of few words, and you’re lucky if you hear more than a sentence out of him all day. Right now he’s stuffing his face full of dinner rolls, completely absorbed in what he’s doing.