NINA
Instant regret hitsme the second the words leave my mouth.
I never wanted Alessio to know that my son exists.Ourson.
But here I am, handing him that information like some kind of amateur who can’t keep her mouth shut when it matters most.
Not that I’ll ever tell him the truth about who Austin’s father really is. I already made that decision, and nothing about this conversation is changing my mind. Austin is better off without a father whose world involves the kind of violence I witnessed the other night.
“You have a child?” Something shifts in Alessio’s expression, but I can’t read it.
“Yes. With my ex-husband.”
The lie tastes bitter, but I swallow it anyway. If it keeps Alessio from looking too closely, I’ll choke on it as many times as I have to.
I can’t let him suspect the truth. Austin is the most precious thing in my world, and I’ll protect him at any cost. Even if it means lying straight to Alessio’s face.
Alessio finishes his drink and waves off the bartender when she approaches. The silence stretches between us like a taut wire.
“Why this job?” he asks finally.
His fingers drum against the bar, and I find myself watching the movement. Strong hands. I remember those hands on my skin, and heat creeps up my neck.
I blink at him. “I already told you. I need the money.”
“There are other jobs. Why not find something that pays better than waitressing without being so...”
“Controversial?” I supply when he trails off.
“People will judge you for this. Make your life harder. So why not try something else?”
He leans closer as he speaks, close enough that I catch his scent. Something expensive and masculine that makes my pulse quicken despite my annoyance. I force myself to lean back, putting distance between us.
“Like what? I don’t have a college degree. Factory work?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Twelve-hour shifts of manual labor, probably nights and weekends. I’d never see my kid, which defeats the whole purpose of making money to take care of him.”
The memory of one particular foster placement surfaces, and my voice hardens. “I had a foster dad who worked at a car plant. Mandatory overtime meant we wouldn’t see him for days. He’d leave before we woke up and come home after we went to bed.Of course, in his case, that was a blessing because he was a complete bastard. But I don’t want that life for me and my son.”
“It’s a boy?”
Shit. I’m giving him too much information, painting a picture of Austin that I never intended to share. My heart hammers against my ribs as I scramble to backtrack.
“Yes,” I say carefully. “I have a little boy.”
“What’s his name?”
“What is this, an interrogation? Are you going to ask for his social security number next?” The sharpness in my voice surprises even me, but I feel trapped. Every question about Austin makes my stomach clench.
Alessio’s eyebrows draw together. “Just making conversation, Temptress.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He smirks, and I hate that the expression does things to my pulse that I don’t want to acknowledge. I can’t figure this man out. One minute he’s treating me like I don’t exist, the next he’s buying me drinks and asking personal questions.
I have no idea what game he’s playing, and I’m starting to suspect he doesn’t know either.
“You picked that name yourself,” he points out.
I sigh, already regretting that impulsive choice. “Don’t read too much into it.”
