“Because I don’t think I could stop at just a look. I want to bury that little shit under a tree in Central Park.” He let out a frustrated breath. “I tried to intervene once, but when Brendan saw me approach the guy, he looked so scared that I backed off.”
I’d never seen Salvatore like this before. It was clear my cousin had a thing for this shy redheaded barista. “So, want me to warn him off?”
“Yeah,” he replied, sounding relieved. As if I’d say no to him. “You have much better control of your temper. I can’t remember ever seeing you lose your cool.”
I rolled my eyes. If only he knew. “Okay. I’ll head over there now. What does the other guy look like?”
“Tall with dark hair cut short and styled. He’s bigger and more muscular than Brendan and likes to get in his personal space.”
Okay, now I was feeling some kind of way about this asshole. “All right. I’ll take it from here. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“Thanks, Tony. I knew I could count on you. I’ll talk to you later.” He ended the call while I was busy hailing a taxi. I was notabout to walk thirty blocks with the chill wind whipping around the buildings.
My relationship with Salvatore was…complicated. The Vitales had been in thefamilybusiness in Italy for generations. Sal’s father, my mother’s brother, came to the US to start his own branch of the business. Sal had taken over five years before, when his father died suddenly from a stroke. My parents had been adamant that we never get involved in the Vitale family business. And yet, here we were.
The ride to the café wasn’t terrible. Sunday traffic in the City tended to be more bearable than during the week. I had the driver let me out up the street a little rather than have him try to navigate the lack of parking in front of the café.
Café Roma was busier than I expected at three-thirty in the afternoon. The line for orders extended halfway into the shop. I took my place at the back of the queue, using it as an opportunity to scope out the situation with the redhead and his apparent nemesis. When I got my first good look at Brendan, I could see, objectively, why my cousin was attracted to him. Wavy auburn hair framed a heart-shaped face. Big blue eyes and a sweet, shy smile illuminated his delicate features. He was definitely too thin but taller than I expected, given Sal’s description. Certainly pretty, but not my type.
The other guy serving customers matched the description Sal had given me. Sure enough, every time the pair of them were at the back counter making the orders, he would brush up against the smaller man or lean in close to say something in his ear. And every time, Brendan would flinch or lean away, his cheeks flushed and his mouth drawn down in a frown. I began to understand Sal’s urge to bury the guy under a tree.
When I got to the head of the line, I ordered my coffee and a croissant from Brendan, pleasantly surprised to discover the young man spoke with a soft Irish brogue. The other barista—Mark, according to his nametag—was about to head back with his own order when I stopped him with a question. “Excuse me, do you have any straws?”
He frowned. “You’ll get one with your drink,” he replied.
What a little shit. I thought about giving him a hard time, but I didn’t want to make a scene. My question had only been a delaying tactic to keep him away from Brendan. The redhead returned with my coffee and croissant. I thanked him with a smile and found a seat at a table where I could continue watching the pair interact. Since Salvatore was relying on me to handle this situation discreetly, I needed to find an opportunity to get Mark alone.
I took a sip of my black coffee, appreciating how good it was. Almost as good as Michael’s. I’d just taken a bite of my croissant when I heard Greg’s voice say, “Tony?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
GREG
Seeing Tony so soon after a night of amazing sex sent a shockwave through my system. That was followed closely by a spike of arousal as my mind took me back to my time in Tony’s bed. He looked up in surprise. “Hey, Greg. What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I countered. “You’re a bit far from your apartment.”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “True.” I saw him glance toward the front counter, where the baristas were taking orders. “I’m doing a favor for a friend.” He turned his attention back to me, his gaze heating as his eyes roamed down my body. “Good to see you.”
I felt myself flush as I put my hand on the chair across from him. “Mind if I sit?”
He smiled. “Of course not.”
It was strange just casually sitting across from Tony after he had owned my body so thoroughly the night before. Usually, I never saw my hookups again. But here we were.
I suppose it was inevitable. Tony still did security work for Jeremy. Plus, they were friends. I wouldn’t have been able to avoid him forever. I leaned back in my seat. “I usually come hereafter I’m done practicing. Jeremy used his status as an alumnus and teacher to get me access to the practice rooms at Juilliard because I only have a keyboard at my apartment. No room for a piano, and besides, it costs a fortune to have them moved.”
Tony nodded in agreement. “Yeah. I remember when we had to move my sister Gianna’s piano to her new apartment. It cost close to two grand.”
“Sounds about right,” I agreed.
“So, you were practicing?” he asked. “For anything in particular?”
I shook my head. “Just practicing. My ultimate goal is to be a Broadway musician. I need to be flexible and know many different playing styles. That’s why I love working with Jeremy. For all that he’s known for being a classical pianist, he can rock with the best of them. He’s very versatile. Plus, I teach once a week at his school in Asbury Park, so I need to know how to play music the kids will be interested in.”
Tony’s brows rose. “I didn’t know you taught at Jeremy’s school. That’s great. He does a lot of good work there.”
“He does,” I agreed. “I wish a school like that had existed when I was a kid. I would have started playing piano a lot earlier.”
