Page 60 of Vicious Souls

I dip a bit of crusty bread in olive oil and pop it into my mouth. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was, my stomach starting to do somersaults as we wait for our food.

“There’s nothing little about you, King. I think I’ve seen more action with you in a month than I have in a lifetime.”

I lean forward and place my elbow on the table, then lean my chin into it and look at him wondrously. “So, tell me about your boring life before I came into it,” I ask.

I’m rewarded with a laugh. A rumble that starts deep in his belly and makes its way upward, his eyes dancing with laughter.

“Food’s here,” he says, as the chef himself comes out with a trolley laden with an amazing selection of dishes for us to sample. I can’t help but feel like he’s been saved from answering my question by Gino’s timely appearance at our table. It always seems to be that way when the conversation moves to the topic of his past.

The chef starts rolling off the names of all the dishes, and I marvel at the amazing presentation and colors placed before us.

“Panzanella, wild mushroom risotto, ncasiata, chicken scarpariello, and sizzling shrimp scampi.”

I clap my hands together in delight, and can’t wait to get started, which makes Gino extremely happy.

“I’m sure you’re going to leave here in a food coma,” Dante says, as Gino walks away.

“I’m sure that’s your intention,” I reply, winking at him. “A food coma will definitely put my mouth out of commission.”

The mention of my mouth and its functions was probably not the best idea; Dante’s eyes fall to my lips in a way that makes my face flush with heat.

“Let’s eat,” he says, his words a growl more than anything else. He lifts his fork and holds it mid-air, about to say something before he starts, then thinks better of it.

“Why did you choose this restaurant?” I ask him, as I swallow my food and follow with a sip of water. The food is divine. I am doing my damndest not to moan with every morsel I place on my tongue.

“It’s the only place I eat when I come to New York. The food speaks for itself."

“That it does.”

When we finish our lunch, with me managing to over-eat, of course, we decide to walk and Dante instructs the car to meet us a few blocks away. His security detail has not left us for a second, always maintaining a discreet distance so we can blend more seamlessly into the New York sidewalk.

“Tell me about your childhood,” he says suddenly, and it’s so out of left field that for a moment, I’m lost for words.

“There’s not much to tell, really. My mother died when I was young – four years old. I was then shuffled between an array of nannies. At some point, my father decided to ship me off to Switzerland to attend school there. That’s where I’ve remained ever since. I did all my schooling and university there. I only ever came back for holidays. Mostly, it was dad visiting a few times a year. He never wanted me to come back here, for whatever reason.”

“He probably felt it was safer for you to be away from him,” Dante muses. “When did you become a boy?”

I laugh, recalling the ridiculous disguise I’d been wearing for years. Yes, it was ridiculous, but it was so ostentatious, it prevented anyone from looking closer into my identity. That most likely was what had kept me alive all these years.

“You know, I could never understand why he kept me away all these years. I mean, if he was safe, why couldn’t I have stayed with him and been safe?”

“You wouldn’t have had the life here that you did there. There’s no way you could have moved about and done your schooling without compromising on something, King. That was his first measure. His second measure was to safeguard his plan by changing your identity.”

I snicker. Think of all the things I’ve missed out on because of the way I’d been forced to change the things about me that made me who I was.

“Do you know what it’s like to go through life being something that you’re not?” I ask him. “Do you know how humiliating it was getting my period and trying to hide it from a dorm full of boys?”

I don’t notice that my eyes are moist with tears threatening to erupt until Dante stops walking and pulls me to a stop. He studies my face carefully then uses a thumb to dab at a tear that has escaped and rolled down my cheek. “I know that everything he did was for my own safety. I know that. But it guts me that I missed out on all that time with him. It’s time I can’t ever get back.”

“No, you can’t. But you can look forward to your future, King. He’ll always be in here.” He lifts two fingers against his chest and taps at his heart. I know that what he’s saying makes the most sense, but I can’t help but wonder if things would have been different had he not sent me away.

“I think you’re doing just fine, Kingsley. And with time, you’re only going to get better. You’re already on your way to being a kicks boss.”

“I don’t think there’s anything kickass about me,” I snort.

“Exhibit A - the night you knocked Tomas Wojcak in the balls when he attacked you.” He smirks, a twinkle in his eyes as he remembers something. “Exhibit B - the way you jumped into my pool in your underwear.”

“Are you ever going to get past that?” I grumble.

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