“Address.”
“Why?”
“Address.”
“Fucking. Why.”
“Business.”
“Don’t make a mess I have to clean up, Tommy.”
“Address.”
Vin growls. “I fucking mean it. Do you hear me talking to you, Tommaso?”
“Si. Address.”
There won’t be anything to clean up. I’m going to get my girl.
22
Giovanna
The restaurant is cute, a new place on the water, one of the few restaurants I’ve ever seen in Brooklyn that not only has its own parking lot but is a standalone building.
It’s unseasonably warm for January with a light rain misting over the window, but I still have my faux fur coat wrapped around me, tight like armor, as Antonio and I look over the menu.
Antonio watches me as I scan the wine list, and I glance up and smile uncomfortably, then back down at the menu.
He stands and comes to my side of the table, sliding my coat off my shoulders. I freeze as his fingertips brush across my cleavage, and his lips brush my neck as he whispers, “You look beautiful, Gigi.”
My voice croaks when I try to speak, and I clear my throat. “Just friends, Antonio, remember? What happened to ‘I’m not trying to fuck you?’” I drop my voice to mimic his as I quote what he said earlier, and he laughs.
“If you were listening, I said I wasn’tjusttrying to fuck you.Emphasis on the ‘just.’”
When I roll my eyes and go back to looking at my menu, he leans forward and ducks down so it’s harder for me not to look at him. I lift my eyes to meet his, irritated.
“Hey. I’ll be good. I promise.”
I sit back as he gives me an innocent look. “What’s happening here, Antonio? Are you trying to fuck me because you hate Tommy or because you’re working for my father?”
A darkness passes over Antonio’s face. “I don’t workforyour father. I workwithyour father. I’m here because I want to be here. Why are you here, Giovanna?”
My phone buzzes.
Fuck, you’re wearing that dress.
Tommy.
Relief that he’s okay lances through me, then immediately curdles into irritation. He can’t answer my texts until he finds out I went out with someone else?
I look up and around the restaurant, looking for him, and Antonio notices. He narrows his eyes at me as a text comes through from Lexi.
“Tommy’s not here, is he?” he asks, his voice smooth but guarded.
My laugh is fake. “Paranoid much? But why would you care? This is just two friends at dinner, right?”
Antonio scoffs. “Yeah, because Tommy is such an understanding guy.” He watches me as text with Lexi. “You’re with him, aren’t you?”