My mouth falls open as I search for words. When my voice finally comes, it’s choked and hoarse.
“Thank you,” is all I manage, but it seems to be enough because Tommy gives a curt nod.
“Just be sure to take care of my girl, ya hear? Coz if you let anything happen to her, you’d be runnin’ to the Devil himself looking for refuge.”
The ferocity of his words has me grinning. I get where he’s coming from, and I like it.
“You can be certain of that, sir,” I say firmly. We’ve pulled up in front of my building, and I wait for the car to draw to a halt. Tommy leans over me and tugs on the door handle, shoving it open.
“Now get yer ass outta here. You’ve left that wife of yours alone for too long.”
I smile and shake my head as I slide from the car, waving a farewell as I make my way to the entrance to the apartment block. I’d texted Emma earlier to say we’d be back soon. And I have plans.
I’m taking my wife on our first real date tonight, and after the disappointment of the day, my anticipation suddenly surges.
“Is this all right?” she asks anxiously as I push open the door to our penthouse and stride in. She’s looking down at a rose-petal pink summer dress that floats around her, flaring at the knee. She’s wearing a pair of silver strappy sandals that make me want to eat her from the toes up.
She’s fucking beautiful.
“Well, hello to you too, Buttercup.” I pull her in for a kiss that leaves us both breathless.
“I’m sorry.” She grins up at me. “When I got your message saying to get dressed for dinner and a show, I had no idea what to expect.”
“You’re perfect.” I peck a kiss on her lips before pulling away briefly. “Gimme five to clean up, and all will be revealed.” I’d had Mario book us tickets to a Chopin concert being performed by a group of young artists at an outdoor theatre. We’ll follow up with an alfresco dinner at a tiny bistro run by a pair of Parisian sisters that barely seats five couples at a time.
Who knew this dating thing could be so interesting to get into? I don’t know why I never bothered before. But then again, I never knew Emma.
When I emerge from the bedroom, freshly showered and in a dark suit, she runs her eyes over me, then licks her lips.
“Keep that up, and we might not make it out of here,” I warn when her eyes linger on my crotch. After last night, I’m surprised either of us can even be thinking of sex. I’m pretty sure my cock is bruised. And yet, I’m hardening under her scrutiny.
“Maybe we—”
“Stop!” I say. “Show starts in thirty.” I reach for her hand, tugging her outside before I can change my mind. There’s a limo outside, and the driver holds the door open for us. Thank God for the privacy partition because five minutes later, she’s straddling my lap and grinding down on me.
“We can still turn back,” she mouths against my lips.
“Jesus, you’re killing me,” I groan.
“Oh, my God!” Her eyes fly wide as she lifts herself away. “Your stitches?”
“What stitches?” All I can think of is being buried in her again. I could die inside this woman and know I’d reached heaven. But the car door is swinging open, and Emma’s cheeks flush pink as the driver looks discreetly away. Straightening her skirt for her, I slide out of the car and then hold out my hand. She’s giggling when she clambers out, and I feel like a kid on a night out with his girl. Not that I ever did that, but I guess this is what it would feel like.
“Oh my God, are we going there?” she gasps and points ahead. There’s a small park that’s been prepared for the evening with outdoor lights and small tables. A woman in black greets us at the gate with a pair of programs. Emma stares around. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes.
“Come, let’s find out seats.” I lead her through the garden to a table that gives a great view of a piano beneath a spotlight.
“I didn’t even know they had places like this in New York.” She beams at me as she leans her elbows on the table.
“It’s an interesting city,” I say, just as a young woman in a black evening dress walks onto the small stage and gives a brief bow. Within minutes, her fingers are running over the keys, and Emma stares with rapt attention. After several flowing melodies, she turns glittering eyes to me.
“It’s what you were playing last night before we…” She pinches her lips together, and if the lighting was brighter, I know I’d see her cheeks flushed pink.
“It’s Chopin,” I say. “My mother loved his music. He’s known for being a little moody sometimes. And I guess last night I was in a mood. Until you lifted it.” I wink. My words are so light I doubt she could know how much that had meant to me.
“And I’ll lift it again, just as soon as we’re alone.” She winks back at me. I chuckle, reaching for her hand across the table.
“You always do.”
