When our heartbeats slowed, when our breathing softened, I pulled away. The mess dripping down her thighs was probably one of the prettiest things I’d ever seen.
“Don’t move,” I ordered.
“I couldn’t if I tried,” she muttered.
So defiant. I smirked as I found a cloth, wet it, and returned. Gently, I cleaned her, then pulled her to stand. She adjusted her dress, looking everywhere but my face. Gripping her chin, I tipped her face up.
“Look at me,” I demanded.
Slowly, that blue gaze lifted. It glittered. Like the heart of a flame. Caught in its focus, something raw shifted in my chest.
“Go upstairs and sleep,” I instructed her.
She didn’t argue—a first.
That meant she was as tired as she seemed. I watched her trudge upstairs, determined to leave her alone for a while. Now that she was safe, we had time totake it slow. And I would remind her why we were good together—why we were destined for one another.
Chapter 24 – Amanda – The Past
The warmth and familiarity of the restaurant were like a tender embrace. Mama Ana’s Bar & Grill was one of Beantown’s treasures. The food here had rich, Old World heritage. The staff spoke Italian fluently, even if they were second, third, or fourth generation Italian-Americans.
I chewed on the end of my pencil, looking up from the Algebra homework. The reason the problem wasn’t coming out right was because a certain waiter proved to be too big a distraction. The fitted black tee was a size smaller than it should have been. It hugged the athletic build, showing off impressive muscles, not yet done forming. The apron hung low on his hips, swaying across the black slacks that showed off the legs a Greek god would be jealous of.
Vincenzo caught me staring and tossed me a wink.
I shook my head before diving back into the sweltering chaos of numbers, equations, and variables.
“I made them myself.” A platter of cannoli slid across the table, bumping into my textbook.
With a yelp of surprise, I snagged one.
“Careful.” Vincenzo leaned down and dusted the powdered sugar off my paper. “Don’t want to give the gremlin a reason to dock your grade.”
Swallowing the bite, I stifled an unladylike moan. “I haven’t had a cannolo in….”
The beautiful smile on his face softened. “Glad you like them.”
I was about to tease him, to bring back that blistering grin, when a rumbling voice interrupted us.
“Ah, so this is why my hardest worker is nowhere to be found.”
“Signore.” Vincenzo pulled himself up straight. It was an unspoken salute. A nod to the force of nature who governed this portion of the city.
Gaspare Morelli wasn’t much to look at from a casual observer. He wore a modest suit that was a few seasons old. His hair was neatly cut, perfectly styled, even after wearing the fedora outside. There were no flashy gold chains on his neck, no chunky rings on his fingers. And not a single tattoo marked his skin.
But to the more careful observer, small traits were noticeable. It was how he carried himself. When he walked into a room, he immediately commanded attention. His presence couldn’t be hidden. He was the don, even if people didn’t speak about it. And as the boss, he ruled with magnanimity. Signor Morelli knew everyone—and their business. He remembered birthdays, anniversaries, even favorite meals. His personality was charming, able to adapt to the company he kept.
Once, when we were kids, we played a game. We eavesdropped on various conversations. Signor Morelli could speak street-Boston talk with the locals, but when doctors, lawyers, and businessmen came around, he suddenly switched to unaccented, perfect English. We tried to copy it. To practice the trait of fitting in.
I didn’t know how to address him now. So, I kept my mouth shut.
I’m not supposed to be here.
“Amanda, you look well.” Signor Morelli extended his hand. I placed mine in his, and he brought it to his lips, pressing a gentlemanly peck on my knuckles.
“Grazie, signore,” I said without a stammer.
“How are your studies coming along?” The don swept his hand over the papers after releasing me from his hold.
