She’s making her way toward me, though tentatively, and we meet halfway. I’m half tempted to look around to see if her father’s anywhere nearby, but I’m pretty sure he’s not. I put an arm around her, pull her against me. She stiffens.
“What if somebody sees?”
“Who’s here to see?”
“Pop’s goons, probably.”
Again, I don’t bother to look around. They’ll see me or they won’t see me. Not a fucking thing I can do about it. Besides… “If there’s anybody here, they probably saw us before, you know.” But I drop my arm. “Let’s go somewhere nice. I want to celebrate.”
She looks caught off guard and gives me a sidelong look through those tilted blue eyes. She looks like an elf sometimes, like something out of those Lord of the Rings movies or whatever. “Celebrate?”
I shrug. “The fact I’m not dead.” There are other reasons, too, but I’m not going to go into them right now. My brain’s been whirring all day, trying to come up with a way to get out from under Spada’s thumb. And I’ve got the beginnings of an idea. I almost want to tell Jessica, tell her everything, so she’ll know what I’m up to and be prepared when everything falls into place. I don’t think I’m quite ready to share though.
Her smile is small, a little hesitant, but genuine. “Seems like a good thing to be happy about.” She glances at me again, and this time she uses her thumb to rub something off my lower lip. Blood, I figure. “I’ll meet you outside.”
So I meet her outside, after giving her a few minutes’ head start. I take a second or two then to check for familiar faces. There are some, but as far as I can tell, they’re involved talking to each other and aren’t paying much attention to me. Probably adding up tonight’s winnings. I decide to get while the getting is good.
Outside, she’s waiting by my car. I guess she’s decided I can be trusted far enough to drive her somewhere this time. That’s a good development. As I approach, she leans that hot ass against the car door and crosses her arms over her chest. Gives me a look.
“Where are we going?”
I don’t answer her. Instead, I crowd her right up against the car and kiss her. I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw her in the crowd—before. Since the second my mouth slid off hers the last time, two days ago at the gym. There’s been a drought since then. A drought of Jess-sized proportions.
Shit, my brain’s going places it shouldn’t go. I can’t afford to be soft. Not with anyone. Fuck, I don’t even know how. Nobody was ever gentle to me when I was a kid; how the fuck am I supposed to know how to be that way now?
I shove that thought aside. This is enough—her pushed up against me, her tits against my chest. She’s warm, and I can feel her breathing in my embrace. Can feel her heart beating. After a few long, but still too-short seconds, I draw back.
“I was thinking Cartelli’s.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. Cartelli’s is expensive, but I don’t give a shit. I’ve got the money. However, apparently it’s not the money that’s got her panties in a wad.
“Pop’s guys like to go there, you know.”
I shrug. I’d had the same thought; decided I didn’t care. “Well, I’m one of Pop’s guys, am I right?”
Her lips thin—I can tell she wants to say something, but she’s not saying it. I have an idea what it is though.
“Somebody sees us, I’ll deal with it.” I hesitate, drawing hair back away from her face and trying not to smirk. “That’s what you want, anyway, isn’t it? For your dad to know you’re defying him by being with me?”
She just makes a face. Apparently she doesn’t have a defense for her mixed signals. “It’s fine. Let’s go.”
I open the door of the car and make no effort whatsoever not to stare at her ass as she slides into the passenger seat.
#
Cartelli’s is busy—it’s always busy—which is another reason I figured it wouldn’t be that big a deal if we went. What are the chances anybody will see us with so many people moving in and out? Besides, I have to admit I’ve been wanting to see somebody while I have Jessica on my arm. I want to rub somebody’s nose in it.
So why haven’t you? You’ve had the chance.
I shrug that off. The maître d’ knows me, and as soon as he catches sight of me in the doorway, he waves me forward. There’s always a table for me here. One advantage of being an owned man, I guess.
Crooking my elbow toward Jessica, I lead her into the restaurant after the maître d’. Once we’re seated, she takes a quick look around, then slides a little farther back into the booth, where anybody just passing by casually won’t be able to see her clearly. I give her a knowing smile, but I don’t say anything. I’ve ribbed her enough. For now.