Matteo was devastatingly handsome in a fitted suit. He didn’t wear any tie. Casual elegance from work to play. Since our kiss on the couch last night, I’d become aware of every inch of this man. I had to prevent myself from shuddering like a virgin when he planted that kiss on my shoulder.
It was so erotic.
Intimate.
Apparently social media thought so too.
“They’re asking what you’re wearing.” Ivy excitedly typed in the response. “Take that, pop princess.”
“Sis, let that go,” Daniel chided. He smiled at me. “Thanks for doing this.” He tapped me lightly on the shoulder and shot me his endearing half smile. The one where it was mysterious. Or it used to be. It also used to send me into a tizzy. But at that moment, I was more aware of the Italian Irishman beside me more than Daniel.
“They’re really shipping the two of you,” my friend continued chattering. “Matsera.”
“Seriously.” I shook my head and looked at my fake boyfriend, and frowned. He and Daniel were in a stare off. What the hell?
I tugged his hand. “Let’s go, I hope you have an early reservation.”
“I had it for seven. That okay?” Finally, he gave me his eyes. They transformed from blue ice to blazing sapphire. My lady bits quivered.
“Where are you guys going?” Daniel asked.
Matteo was already guiding me toward the elevators. “I’m not telling Sera, why should I tell you?”
A Bentley was waiting for us at the front of the building. As Trevor switched places with the driver who gave Matteo a salute, my date helped me into the back of the vehicle. The privacy screen was up. When he got in beside me, the roomy interior became smaller.
Matteo didn’t say anything for long seconds. Even when the Bentley started moving, he remained silent. He checked his phone and then tapped on the side of the car.
I fidgeted with my bracelet. It was the only piece of jewelry on my body that I owned.
“I’m sorry if I messed up your plans for tonight,” I ventured. Earlier at the penthouse, his eyes flared with heat but he didn’t comment on my appearance the way a man should on a first date. I knew I looked good, but maybe he liked his dates to be more demure. I didn’t think to do any research on his love life or dating life. I was tempted to reach for my phone, but I stilled myself.
It was too late anyway.
He glanced at me briefly. “It’s fine.”
“See, I don’t think it is,” I fired back. “If we’re going to do this.” I cocked my head toward the divider.
“Trevor knows the deal,” he told me. This time he shifted in his seat so he was facing me. Unlike the night he took me home, it was harder to discern his expression in the dimly lit interior.
“You need to tell me what’s bugging you.”
He exhaled a long breath. “Fine. What’s the deal with the social media video?”
“You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”
“I don’t. I want as much publicity to reach Gustavo and Santino as possible.”
“So…”
“The clothes you’re wearing…”
“Oh…”
“Yes… oh. They’re from Daniel.”
“Donateka. From Ivy. What’s the big deal?”
“Trevor told me that Daniel offered it up.”
Shit, he got me there. I forgot Trevor was loitering in the shop. “Is this some kind of alpha male posturing?”
He leaned closer. “Look at it this way. It’s our first date and you’re wearing clothes bought for you by another man.” His fingers touched the necklace. “You’re wearing jewelry from a man who has shown interest in you.”
“You mean a man who doesn’t know whether or not he wants me? Well, it’s his loss. He paid for my clothes to go out with you. I’d say you’re the winner here.”
Matteo shook his head and laughed derisively. “I don’t know what kind of role model Luca is.”
“Keep him out of this.”
He edged closer. “You, Sera, don’t know men.”
“If you mean men like you, probably,” I retorted.
His mouth quirked up. “Do you have an answer for everything?”
I had to think about that.
“Just me?” he prodded.
I laughed. “Don’t feel so special. Come to think of it, I’m only this way around insufferable men.”
“Besides me, who?”
“Luca. Or maybe it’s arrogant Italians.”
“I’m part Irish.”
“You’ve got good genetics.”
This time his smirk curved more into a semblance of a satisfied smile. “Are you trying to distract me with flattery so I’ll forget your dating faux pas?”
“You make it sound like I’ve broken some irrefutable dating etiquette. This is a special circumstance.”
Why were we still arguing?
“Debatable.” He stared at my lips.
My heartbeat grew erratic. “And I wasn’t the only one who broke dating etiquette.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” I said. “You didn’t even compliment me on how I looked.” I knew that was being petty, but I wasn’t about to start off with low expectations coming from him. Even if it was a fake date.
His voice lowered. “You know you’re gorgeous.”
“Oh my God, have you ever dated at all?”
He looked away and scratched his brow with a finger, that deep chuckle that never quite escaped his mouth vibrated in his chest. “I fucked up, didn’t I?” He looked at me. “You’re not the only one who’s having trouble navigating this fake relationship. I do know how to pay a compliment, and I’m sorry for being an ass.” He tapped my nose lightly. “You, Sera Moretti, take my breath away.”
My cheeks flushed. “You don’t have to exaggerate.”
“To be honest, I didn’t know how to react when I first saw you. There you were, looking so damn beautiful with all this exposed skin and another man had his hands all over you.” His mouth thinned. “You’re not like any woman I’ve ever dated.” At my doubtful look, he added, “Despite our current situation.”
“We never talked about boundaries,” I said. “There are already hurt feelings…and would you please move over to your side of the car?”
As if to be contrary, he edged closer.
“I don’t like boundaries,” he murmured. “Especially when it comes to you.”
He captured my lips in a searing kiss. Awareness ignited every inch of my skin. My mouth opened and his tongue swept in, hot and demanding. He pulled my leg over his, grinding our bodies together.
He released my lips and traced my jaw with his mouth. “I’ve done nothing but think of ripping these clothes from your body since the moment I saw you in them.”
“That’s not boundaries,” I gasped when he licked the shell of my ear.
“Fuck boundaries,” he said before claiming my lips once more. With our bodies smashed together, his right hand skated my leg and my side. His fingers feathered the outside of my boobs. He pulled away slightly and said, “If I let myself go further”— his thumb brushed the fabric covering my nipple—“we’ll never get to dinner. As much as I wished you were in a skirt, you made the right call wearing pants. Otherwise, you’d be on your back with your feet hitting the roof and my face buried between your thighs.”
My mouth fell open. He grabbed my hand and put it over his erection.
He was rock hard.
“This is what you do to me, Sera.”
I clenched my thighs together. Wet heat pulsed between them.
His forehead sank to mine. “I don’t know if I can make it through dinner.”
“You must,” I said solemnly just as my stomach grumbled. “Because I’m hungry.”
Matteo
This was insanity. Or was it? I was jealous of the clothes she was wearing. My fingers itched to rip them off her body and that presented another problem. My imagination was wreaking havoc at what Sera Moretti would look like naked. Whatever she was wearing pushed her tits to a voluptuous advantage, and it reminded me of Daniel’s hands on her when he was fastening the necklace.
“Ow, you’re squeezing too tight.”
The red haze lifted as I glanced down at where our hands were joined. Trevor dropped us in front of the hotel where we had our reservations in a restaurant owned by a world-famous chef.
“Sorry.” I loosened my grip.
We walked across the marble flooring in silence. The encounter in the car left me reeling with a hard-on from hell and mulling over fucking feelings I didn’t want to examine. So I elected silence.
I detested feeling jealous when I had no reason to be.
Sera belonged to Daniel.
My mind instantly rejected the thought.
We approached the hostess podium. The maître d’ recognized me. Chez Michele Jean was a favorite destination of the De Luccis. Food played an integral part in our family culture. When there were frequent squabbles on who wanted to eat Italian or Irish food, the safest route was to go to either a French or Japanese restaurant.
The hostess led us to my requested table at the enclosed outdoor seating.
“Oh.” Sera’s gaze scanned the curved windows of the area. “You get a one-eighty view. It’s so pretty,” she continued to gush. The greenery of the indoor garden framed the view of the Manhattan skyline at night.
When we were seated at the table, our server arrived with the bottle of a wine I’d planned for tonight.
Sera eyed the bottle. “It’s my favorite wine.”
I nodded for the sommelier to uncork it.
“How did you find out?” she asked. “Are you stalking me, Matteo De Lucci?”
“I have my ways.”
“Ivy?”
“She gave me a list. I already failed with your cappuccino this morning.” I lifted my glass to hers. “You told me to do better…I hope I did.”
She beamed at me. “Oh, you sure did.”
My chest tightened as I inhaled the image of Sera’s heart-shaped face lit by the lone candle on our table. I cleared my throat. “Should we toast to a successful first date?”
“I’m all for that.”
We clinked our glasses and sipped our wine.
When we lowered our drinks, a brief awkwardness descended between us. Luckily, our server interrupted.
“Are we having the tasting menu tonight?”
Sera stared at the menu. “It’s seven courses.”
“You said you were hungry.”
“This is a lot, but the lobster roll looks good.”
“We’ll do the seven courses,” I told our server. “Leave the drink menu.”
“Very good, sir.”
When our server disappeared, I moved my chair closer. “We might want to get a burger afterward.”
“Oh, I know.” Sera’s voice lowered conspiratorially. “I’m from Chicago, remember?”
“You mean I haven’t impressed you?”
“I don’t impress easily, Matteo De Lucci.” She took another sip of her wine. “But this is good out of the bottle.”
I rimmed the glass with my finger, staring at the burgundy liquid before picking it up and swirling it around.
“You don’t need to do that. This vintage is good as it is.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those wine snobs.”
“Snob. No. But I’m protective of my favorite wine. Do you know the winemaker is a legend in Napa Valley?”
“I’ll buy you a case of it.”
“There’s no such thing as a case of it,” she said smugly. “It’s a twelve-year waiting list.”
True. I raided Dad’s wine cellar. There were only two bottles and he warned me not to touch the other one, one of a better vintage that was over fifteen grand. I was more of a scotch guy. I didn’t have a wine collection. Maybe I should start one. “You’re high maintenance.”
“Hopefully, you won’t suffer me for long.”
“You’re breaking up with me before we finish our first date?”
“Oh, your ego can handle it.”
She was wrong. Talking about ego only reminded me that the clothes and jewelry she was wearing came from Daniel. The only thing I recognized that belonged to her was the simple bracelet around her wrist. It looked old and antique and should look out of place with her whole attire, but somehow she made it work. I had noticed the trinket when we were in the soup kitchen.
I tasted the wine again. It was bold and loud like any California cabernet. “I’m surprised your favorite is not an Italian wine.”
“Luca gives me grief about it all the time. But I was on a research trip in Napa.” She smiled. “I was in my chef phase, that time between high school and college. A friend of Luca was opening a restaurant and he sent me there to learn the business.”
“You seem to be a jill-of-all trades.”
“Clothes and food,” she quipped.
“What are your plans now?”
“I don’t know,” she mumbled, holding the goblet against the candlelight. “It seems awkward to work with Daniel now that you’ve ruined it.”
“Ruined it?”
“Acting all possessive.”
“If I’m not mistaken, Ivy was recording. Don’t you think the optics would look questionable if he’s the one fixing that necklace around your neck?”
The server took that moment to serve us the first course and Sera looked relieved that she didn’t have to answer.
“Oysters and Osetra caviar with crème fraiche.”
After the server left, we stared at our plate and we both tried to keep the grin from our faces.
“Osetra,” Sera whispered. “If this is the same one in the fridge at home, I feel sorry for you.”
I sighed. “I’m never going to impress you, am I?”
“There’s still the lobster.”
“Lobster roll. You’ll probably say you could have it at any of the roving trucks.”
“Aw,” she said in sympathy. She reached across the table and patted my hand. “You get an A for effort.”
I barked a laugh that prompted other patrons to shoot disapproving glares my way. This woman. I couldn’t even hide my amusement by sipping my wine because I might choke on it.
I turned my hand palm up and linked our fingers. “You, Sera Moretti, are good for my soul.”
Her eyes widened while a blush stole up her cheeks. I wondered if she was blushing all over.
I could have kicked myself for the words that just spilled from my lips. But they were the most honest ones I’d said in a long time.
“Uh.” She looked down at the oysters and the gray pearls on the plate. She glanced up and grinned. “You’re not falling in love with me, are you?”
A suppressed chuckle vibrated deep in my chest. She had a weird smile on her face and she was looking at me with heated eyes. I gave myself a mental shake, berating myself for transferring my attraction to her. She probably thought we were on the strangest first date. “Maybe you’re the one falling in love with me.”
“Really? Well, you’re the one holding my hand captive,” she pointed out. “And I want both hands for eating.”
I let it go. “So, you’re not one of those who want to be in a couple and hold hands while eating?”
A look of mock horror came over her face. “Nope. I take my food seriously.” She used the appetizer fork to lift the delicate oyster to her mouth. All thoughts of what oysters do to the libido started a stirring in my groin. Goddammit, I needed to make it through dinner, but Sera didn’t know what other plans I had in store for her tonight. I had every intention of tasting her. I almost groaned audibly when her tongue slipped out to lick the cream smeared on her lips and scrambled for something that would throw ice on my rising erection.
“That’s something my sister would say.”
“How old is Bianca now?” She gave me her distracted attention.
“Twenty-one.” I tipped my chin to her plate. “Everything all good there?”
“It’s good.” She gave a series of nods that indicated “good” was just to spare my feelings.
“You’re supposed to say it’s delicious,” I teased. “What’s wrong with it?”
“I didn’t say anything was wrong with it.”
“Don’t ever play poker,” I said dryly.
“It’s average Osetra,” she said. “There’s really no bad Osetra.”
“Of course you would know this.”
She grinned. “We should have eaten the two jars in the fridge.”
“So what exactly do you do for the family?”
She raised a brow at me and then looked around her. “I’m not going to discuss family outside the family.”
“Fair enough.”
As the server brought in course after course, we talked about less sensitive topics. Mostly her business degree and her competition with Ivy.
“I’m surprised you and Ivy are best friends.”
“And we were roommates,” she added.
“Was it a case of keep your friends close and your enemies closer?”
She grabbed her napkin and laughed into it. I liked her laugh. After a few seconds, she said, “I wouldn’t go that far. No, a year into graduate school we already knew we were kicking ass because we were trying to one-up the other. We decided to turn it into a healthy competition…okay sometimes blood was spilled.”
I arched a brow.
“That’s figurative, silly. Sure, we get into arguments. But to survive grad school and to prevent the other students who wanted to grab the top spot, Ivy and I decided to join forces. We have the same interests, clothes, food—she loves wine and fruity drinks, but she’s a lightweight. We just made time to study and made time for fun.”
I loved the animated way she talked about her studies. How she used Conte Enterprise’s modernization of olive oil production as the basis for her thesis.
“I’m surprised Gustavo modernized his production. He’s very traditional.”
“You don’t know Godfather at all,” she said. “His motto is, know tradition, but keep up with the times.”
Huh, did I misunderstand the old man?
I watched the shifting expressions on her face. Very…passionate. Would she bite down on her bottom lip when I gave her an orgasm, or would her mouth open and moan?
“What about you?”
I cleared my throat and took a sip of wine to pour ice water over the lava racing through my veins. “Harvard.”
“Did all of you go there?”
“Just Nico and me.”
“And Renz?”
“He didn’t go to college,” I clipped.
“Oh.”
“The building that we’re in? He manages it and the café on the first floor belongs to him.”
“Go for your passion.”
I didn’t know how to answer that. My brother’s passion was Liz and my niece, Sam. And Liz always dreamed of opening a coffee shop with a bakery.
“You could say that.”
“Not everyone wants to be a billionaire CEO.”
The server appeared by our side to deliver the fourth course.
Sera’s eyes lit up. “Finally.”
I was beginning to worry that seven courses weren’t enough. The servings were tiny and Sera seemed to eat with gusto, which appealed to me. The cream puff shop next door was a favorite post-restaurant stopover for the De Luccis. Sometimes, Nico and I would hold off until the family was done and go eat at the basement ramen shop near Times Square.
But the whole point of this date…what was the whole point? I wasn’t even sure anymore.
Sera gingerly lifted the overpriced lobster roll and took a bite. “Ooooh.” She actually shimmied her ass on the chair before she took a bite.
I’d never met anyone outside my family this enthusiastic about food. The women I dated never lasted long. I had no particular type—slender, curvy, flat chested, or big tits. But I’d mostly dated women who were taller than Sera. They just appealed to me more. But Sera had so much to her and that wasn’t all physical.
“You’re not eating?” she asked, eyeing my plate and then her half-eaten roll.
“I’m waiting to see if that’s enough for you.”
“Oh my God.” She paled. “I’m the worse date ever.”
I started chuckling. “Sera…stop it, all right? You’re my best date ever.”
She preened a little. “Luca did say I’d scare guys away with my appetite.”
“I don’t know where you put it. You’re so tiny.”
“Hips and boobs,” she quipped before she took another bite.
My eyes heated. “They’re perfectly allocated, then.”
She put down the roll. “Seriously, Matteo, if you don’t start eating, I’m going to have a complex.”
I replenished our wines. “Why?”
“Because…you’re the man…”
“Believe me, appetites don’t apply to gender. You should see the women in my family. And it has nothing to do with being Italian because the Irish side is the same.”
“Your mother’s side runs a franchise of Irish pubs, right?”
“Yes. Eamonn’s,” I said with pride. “Mom was the brains behind the franchise. Before she met my dad, it was floundering, but she turned it around. And contrary to the rumors saying the De Luccis were responsible for bailing Eamonn’s from bankruptcy, that’s not true. It was because of my mom’s tenacity and business sense.”
“Wow, that’s so inspiring.”
“I think you two would get along.”
She dropped her head and eyed my plate. “You should really eat.”
Sera wasn’t ready for meeting-the-family conversation. I was surprised I brought it up too because I rarely brought girlfriends to a cozy family dinner, mostly clan events like a wedding where a date was required.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said. “The next course is lamb filet.”
Sera shrugged, shooting me a puzzled look.
“Would you prefer the lamb or the lobster?”
Her eyes danced merrily. “I see where this is going…”
I smiled, knowing exactly where her thoughts went, but I waited for her to say something.
“We’re negotiating,” she said. “You really want the lamb and are hoping to have two servings of it.”
“I honestly don’t care. I was trying to be…chivalrous.”
“I like lobster a little more, but I also like lamb.”
“Are you going to leave me with nothing, woman?”
I couldn’t help grinning back at her tinkling laughter.
“Let’s stick to the tasting menu,” she said. “Eat your lobster.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
