Page 50 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
One eyebrow arches. “So you’re ready to admit it? That you’re mine?”
Before I can answer, a shadow falls across our table. I look up to find Brunette Barbie standing there, and she’s looking right through me like I’m part of the decor.
“Hey,” she purrs, placing her palms flat on the table and leaning forward to give Lorenzo a view that should require a cover charge. “I’m Amanda. I just wanted to introduce myself to the best-looking guy here.”
She bites her bottom lip in what’s supposed to be seductive but just looks like she’s trying not to drool, and something ugly and possessive rears its head inside me.
The audacity. The sheer fucking audacity of this woman to come over here when he’s clearly with someone. Does she think I’m not a threat? Am I really that forgettable?
But instead of the arctic dismissal I’m expecting, Lorenzo flashes her a charming smile that makes my blood pressure spike into the danger zone.
“Nice to meet you, Amanda,” he says, his voice warm and friendly. “I’m Lorenzo. You and your friends celebrating something tonight?”
She beams at him like he just offered her the keys to his kingdom. “My friend Ashley is getting married, so this is her bachelorette party. I’m the only single one in our group.”
She sticks out her bottom lip in a pout that probably works on most men, and I can’t help the scoff that escapes. I fold my arms across my chest, making sure my wedding ring catches the light.
Lorenzo glances my way and his eyes crinkle with amusement as he takes in my death glare and pissed-off body language. He turns back to Amanda, who has finally deigned to notice my existence with a dismissive flick of her eyes.
“Well, a marriage is definitely something worth celebrating,” Lorenzo says, slipping his arm around my shoulders. “I own this place, so please tell your friends their bar tab is on me tonight.”
Amanda’s face lights up as she reaches out to touch his arm, her fingers lingering way too long. “That’s so generous of you, Lorenzo.”
She practically purrs his name, and I start calculating whether I can leap across this table and tackle her before Lorenzo stops me.
The odds aren’t great.
“My wife and I are happy to help you enjoy your evening,” he says smoothly.
The word “wife” hits Amanda like a slap. Her joy crumbles, and she purses her lips. “Wife?”
“That’s right,” I say, letting every ounce of territorial satisfaction I feel leak into my voice.
Before my inner caveman can make any more appearances, Lorenzo signals the waitress over and arranges for their tab to be covered. The waitress guides Amanda back to her table, and I watch her retreat with narrowed eyes.
“Jealous, baby?” Lorenzo asks, but the knowing glint tells me it’s not really a question. He knows what he just did, and the bastard enjoyed every second of it.
“Not at all,” I lie.
“Good. There’s nothing to be jealous of. It’s just business.”
“Business?”
“You know, turning on the charm to keep people happy. My job isn’t all intimidation and breaking kneecaps. Sometimes I have to be nice.”
“Maybe you don’t have to be quite so nice to women who look at you like you’re their next meal.”
He laughs at that, and some of my irritation fades. The flirty bitch might have gotten free drinks, but I have his full attention. I’m the one who makes him laugh.
“The DJ’s playing one of your favorites,” he says, and he’s right. It’s Bon Jovi, which definitely isn’t standard club fare. My taste in music is older rock, so I’m sure Lorenzo must have somehow communicated to the DJ to play it for me.
I smile and sing along while Lorenzo’s hand finds my thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles that are way more sensual than they have any right to be.
After the song ends, we watch the dance floor below and laugh at the drunken antics. I even drag him out there for two songs, though he looks very uncomfortable. I take pity on him and let him lead us back to our booth.
Throughout the evening, people approach our table. Business associates, I assume, though Lorenzo keeps the conversations brief and vague. What lingers are the women.
Two more make their move during the night, both with all the subtlety of a brick through a window. Lorenzo isn’t as charming with them, but that doesn’t stop the green-eyed monster from clawing its way up my throat.
