Page 113 of An Inconvenient Marriage
The restaurant was just ahead. I waited until we rolled to a stop in the parking lot so I could shift in my seat and fully take her in. “I offered the owner double of what he makes on his busiest night.”
Natalie’s blue eyes went wide. “For one table?”
“No.” I shook my head. “For the entire place.” Without waiting for a response, I flung my door open and stepped out into the crisp evening air. Grabbing my suit jacket from the backseat, I pulled it over my shoulders and made my way to Natalie’s side of the car.
As expected, she’d already gotten out and was staring at the name of the restaurant with an awestruck expression on her gorgeous face.
Unable to resist touching her, I placed my hand against the small of her back and kissed the freckles on her shoulder. Her sharp intake of breath immediately filled the space between us. Grinning, I dragged my mouth to her neck and kissed her again.
This time, her body shuddered.
I loved it.
The knowledge that I could affect her like this with such a small touch was a high I never wanted to come down from.
“I can’t believe you booked the entire place,” she whispered.
Moving my hand from her back, I threaded my fingers through hers and walked toward the back entrance of Bella Italia.
“Why is it so hard to believe? You wanted to come here. And I’d rather not have every man in the place gawking at you, so having the place to ourselves seemed like the obvious choice.”
Natalie stopped and pushed onto her toes to press her lips against my cheek. “Zacharias de la Fuente, you are something else.”
No one except my brother had ever used my full name, and hearing it from her mouth did a hell of a lot of strange things to my insides. But before I went down another damn rabbit hole, I gripped her chin and pulled her back to me.
I kissed her long and slow with a hunger and need I’d only ever felt for her. I kissed her as if nothing and no one but that moment and us mattered.
And I would have kissed her some more if a blaring car horn didn’t cut through our little bubble and brought me back to my senses.
“Good thing your lipstick doesn’t smudge.” I brushed my thumb over her bottom lip. It was wet and still a surprisingly vibrant shade of red. “Let’s go inside before I’m the only one eating tonight.”
A light-pink color tinged her cheeks, and I couldn’t keep myself from grinning. After all this time and the things we’d done, she still blushed. I fucking loved that, too.
I slipped my hand in hers, and we headed for the back entrance again. Once there, I tapped my knuckles against the door. One knock followed by two fast ones, then one again. We waited for a few seconds, then the door swung open.
Chef Rossi greeted us with a wide smile before motioning for us to come in. The kitchen was buzzing with everyone doing different tasks as she led us to the front where the hostess greeted us with an equally huge smile.
Natalie held my hand tighter, and her head swiveled from side to side as she took everything in. The interior certainly was something to behold. With a mixture of limestone and open-faced brick walls, plus the brick pizza oven in the corner, you got the rustic vibe.
But then the wooden coffered ceilings, dark tiles, and soft lighting brought in elegance and intimacy. Then there was the wall of windows overlooking the Brooklyn Bridge that simply catapulted it into magnificence.
That was why I’d asked to be seated at one of those tables. And judging by Natalie’s glimmering eyes and wide smile, it was the right decision.
“This place is amazing,” she whispered.
She was staring at the bridge with the most brilliant smile touching her lips while I was shamelessly staring at her. I’d seen the majestic way the city lights danced on the rippling water about a hundred times.
But I’d never seen a view as beautiful as the one before me.
I was about to tell her exactly that when the hostess arrived at our table again.
“I believe you’ve already discussed the menu with the chef.” She placed two bottled waters and glasses with lemon slices in them on the table. Smiling at both me and Natalie, she pointed toward the hostess stand. “I’ll be right there if you need anything.”
“There’s one thing,” I said. “I made dessert arrangements with the owner—”
“It’s all set, sir.”
She’d barely left when Natalie leaned forward. “What arrangements did you make?”
