Page 50 of Surprise Twins for the Mafia Prince
“I’m surprised my babies aren’t making you crave this,” Dario says with a grin. “I love spicy food.”
“Maybe they take after me in that way,” I say, my hand curving around the slight bump I’m finally starting to develop. “I can’t handle spice at all. Rosa always tells me what a weenie I am.”
“That’s your friend from the club, right?”
I know he knows the answer to that question already. He told me how he tracked me down through receipts at the club the night we met and the hotel room in Rosa’s name. But the fact that he’s asking tells me that he wants to keep the conversation going.
“Yeah,” I say, leaning back in my seat as I tell him all about my best friend, the most supportive person in my life.
We’ve just finished dinner and he’s polishing off his chips and salsa while we wait for the check. It’s a Friday night, so the restaurant is full, and our waitress has been running herself ragged to keep up with the demands of her tables.
I’m just glad that she hasn’t looked twice at Dario. I’ve noticed that women stare at him shamelessly when we’re out together, sometimes flirting with him right in front of me, and it makes me seethe with jealousy.
It doesn’t matter that Dario never encourages the behavior. He says I’m his, and that makes himmine, even if I haven’t claimed him yet.
I can’t explain what it is I’m waiting for. There has to be a way to get past the doubt holding me back, but I don’t know how to do it. All I know is that I don’t want other women looking at him with lust in their eyes, even if I’m not acting on my own feelings at the moment. Maybe that’s unfair, but I can’t change the way I feel.
I choose to blame it on pregnancy hormones.
“So, Rosa is the reason you were in Vegas?” Dario asks after I tell him about her insisting that I have an adventure with her.
“Yeah, I guess we have her to thank for this,” I say, patting my belly. “She didn’t know about my past, that I’m from here and never planned to return. I couldn’t say no to her, not when she was so excited and had even taken time off work to come here.”
“The way you talk about her...it seems like she’s your only close friend.”
I shrug, but I can’t quite meet his eyes. “Imighthave a hard time trusting people. Maybe abandonment issues too. I can be a bit of a mess, and Rosa had to be patient to break through my walls.”
“I’m sure it was worth it for her,” Dario says, his voice softer than usual.
A smile flickers across my face. “She’s one of the few people in my life that hasn’t given up on me when I made it difficult to like me. I don’t mean to do it but, as my last boyfriend said, I make people prove themselves even when they haven’t done anything to deserve my distrust. That’s the excuse he used when I caught him cheating. Apparently, it wasmyfault.”
Dario’s jaw tightens. “That’s bullshit. It sounds to me like you’re smart about who you let into your life.”
“That’s a simple way to put it.” I take a sip of my water, avoiding his intense gaze.
He leans forward slightly, his forearms resting on the table. “There’s nothing simple about choosing who’s worthy of knowing you. You shouldn’t let just anyone into your heart. Most people can’t be trusted.”
I look up, meeting his eyes directly. “And you? Can you be trusted?”
I’m not sure if I’m flirting or trying to unlock all the mysteries of the man in front of me. Perhaps it’s both.
His expression turns serious, almost vulnerable. “It depends on who you ask. But you can trust me, Paige.”
I want to believe that, but I don’t say anything in response. Words aren’t enough, but I don’t know what else there is.
We leave the restaurant after that, walking along the sidewalk toward the car, which is parked down the block. The restaurant doesn’t have a parking lot, but I don’t mind a short walk after a heavy meal.
I’m just glad I’m able to keep down more food now. It’s been two days since I threw up, and although I felt a little nauseous when I woke up this morning, it passed quickly.
“So, what’s your rating?” Dario asks, his tone light despite the heavy conversation we had back at the restaurant.
I purse my lips, thinking. He’s asking about my restaurant rating system, which is a game we play after we eat somewhere new.
“I’d say four out of five stars. The chimichangas were excellent. And I loved the music they played.”
He grins at me. “I don’t think you’ve given any of the places I’ve taken you less than four stars.”
I shrug. “I can admit you have good taste in restaurants. It’s funny, I would have pegged you as a guy that only eats at fancy Italian restaurants.”
