My body tensed as Marco and Liam entered the room. I’d seen him eyeing me speculatively the night he’d come to City Lights with Tony and the rest of his crew. I didn’t know why it bothered me. The thing between Tony and me was friends with benefits. But something in me desperately wanted his brother to like me.
Liam approached me first. “Greg, I’m so glad you came.”
“Me too,” I replied. “It’s nice to have new friends.” Or any friends at all, with the exception of Tony.
Marco gave me an up-nod. “Hey, Greg. Good to see you.” He glanced around the kitchen, his brow creased in a frown. “I thought you invited Tony.”
“We did,” Jeremy said. “He said he had too much work to do tonight. Something about a new client looking for a personal protection detail.”
Marco grunted in disapproval. “He works too much.”
Jeremy nodded in agreement. “He’s bad at delegating. You know this.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Marco grumbled.
“Dinner’s ready,” Sean called out.
As we all grabbed our wine glasses and headed into the dining room, I couldn’t help but wish Tony had come. It would have been better with him here. And that thought scared me.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
TONY
I closed my laptop with a sigh. Organizing a full-time personal detail team was a lot of work. The client was a famous actor in the theater world. They were coming over from the UK for three months and wanted a local firm to handle personal security since we would know the city better. It took most of the day to get all the moving parts to work together, but I’d done it.
Michael and Marco were going to be pissed at me for taking this all on myself. I’d deal with that tomorrow. But tonight, I couldn’t handle going to the dinner with Greg. I was doing my best to keep our relationship casual. Having dinner with family and friends seemed too much like a boyfriend thing in my mind.
I rose from my leather office chair and grunted as my bones popped. I should not feel this old. I wasn’t even forty yet. I hated to admit it, but my brothers were probably right. I worked too much and didn’t delegate as much as I should. Someone else could have easily handled reassuring the client that we had everything in place for their arrival. So yeah, maybe I was a bit of a control freak.
I got my coat and headed out of my office. Everyone was long gone, even Michael. I thought I remembered him saying something about a date. Eating out sounded like a good idea. Itwas better than being alone in the quiet of my apartment. The Irish pub around the corner served good meals and had a low-key vibe, so I headed in that direction.
I’d just gotten seated at a table near the back of the restaurant when my phone vibrated with a call. My brows furrowed when I saw it was my cousin.
“Hey, Sal. What’s up?”
“Hey, Tony.” There was a pause before he continued. “I was wondering if we could meet for dinner tonight to talk. If you’re not already busy,” he added hastily.
“I’m at Donaghue’s on 34th if you want to join me. I just got off work.”
“An Irish pub?” Sal scoffed. “Are you serious right now? I happen to know there are three excellent Italian restaurants within walking distance of your office. Uncle Santino taught you better than that.”
I snorted a laugh. “My father never had their Irish red ale. That, along with a nice big bowl of Guinness beef stew? Perfection. Come join me.”
He huffed, and I could practically see his eye roll through the phone. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I had business in Midtown, so I’m not far.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you when you get here.”
I ordered a pint of red ale and an appetizer to hold me over until Sal got there. True to his word, he arrived fifteen minutes later. He was accompanied by two men, both in dark suits. I saw their eyes sweep the restaurant and land on me. One of them gave me a quick up-nod before the pair went to sit at the bar. One of them faced toward the front door. The other kept an eye on the rear of the place.
Sal took the seat across from me. “So you’re saying I should try the Irish red.”
I studied his face. His expression told me there was more to the question than just beer. “I guess that depends on whether you’re talking about beer or that lovely young man who works at Café Roma.”
Sal’s shoulders slumped, and a wistful smile touched his lips. “He is lovely, isn’t he?”
“He is. He also seems shy and withdrawn.” I tilted my head to the side. “Have you talked to him since I had that chat with the asshole barista?”
Sal shook his head. “I mean, yeah, I talk to him when I go in to get coffee. But I still get the sense that he’s…not scared, but wary.”
