The paparazzi disrupted our romantic dinner. Patrons complained about the unwanted attention of curious onlookers staring through the windows of the outdoor seating. The advantage of outdoor seating was to watch New York life pass you by. You did not expect the reverse, to have New York watch you eat and be the fish in the fishbowl.
Matteo was talking on the phone with Trevor on how to manage our exit.
I exchanged texts with Ivy. My video with Matteo had zoomed to a 100k likes and over two million views in three hours. Good thing I finished the fudge brownie à la mode, which was the most down-to-earth dish in this restaurant. I didn’t have the heart to tell Matteo that I preferred hole-in-the-wall restaurants. Living in Chicago, and then in Napa, I sampled haute cuisine everywhere. A visit to Hong Kong opened my eyes to unpretentious street food. From Hong Kong’s curry fish balls and egg tarts to Singapore’s Hainanese chicken, she educated me on Hawker food I loved today.
Still, I enjoyed the dinner.
I loved that Matteo went to the trouble of finding out my favorite wine. I would have considered eating cheese and salami while drinking the wine a successful date.
The lobster roll was delicious, but the best ones I’d had usually came from the roving trucks, not like this one steeped in foamy stuff that, although was tasty, overshadowed the crustacean’s naturally sweet, briny goodness.
But I enjoyed Matteo’s company the most.
My phone rang.
“Hey, chica—” Ivy gushed. “You’re a superstar! I haven’t had this many views in a long time.”
“I’m glad I helped your platform,” I said dryly.
“Did you enjoy your dinner?”
“Matteo was an attentive dinner companion.” I angled my eyes at the man who cast me a brief smile before returning to his conversation with Trevor.
“You make him sound as interesting as a hangnail.”
I burst out laughing. “I assure you, he is more interesting and not as annoying.”
“Where is he taking you next?”
“I’m not sure. He said he wanted to take me to a cream puff place.”
“You just had dinner.”
“A bar is too cliché, and I don’t want to ruin the flavor of the Screeching Raven.”
There was a long pause.
“What vintage?”
“Not the vintage, although Matteo hinted that a fifteen-grand one was sitting in his father’s cellar.” Depending when he purchased it, the price of that vintage was probably already double.
“There are only two hundred bottles known to be circulating of that one and no one is willing to admit to owning it.” This particular wine attained cult status a decade ago when a three liter bottle went up for auction and commanded five hundred thousand dollars. No one knew who owned it because the bidder used a middleman.
“Are you saying I should use my charms to finagle our way into when the De Luccis might drink it?” I teased. “Because I’m sure Mr. De Lucci is saving it just for him and his wife.”
Matteo ended his call and looked at me.
“Hey, I need to go,” I told Ivy.
“Make an appearance in front of the hotel.”
“I don’t like this publicity.”
“Don’t play coy,” my friend drawled. “You love it. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be best friends.”
“Hmm…are you forgetting your handsome…” I caught myself, but I gave myself away when I turned a stricken look at Matteo. Yep, I shouldn’t be playing poker because the man’s face turned to stone and the warmth that had been in his eyes earlier iced over.
Way to kill the mood, Sera.
I turned away from him and muttered into the phone, “Shit.”
Ivy groaned. “Shit, all right. A blow job might make up for it.”
I hung up on my friend and pasted a smile on my face before turning back to my date. “I’m ready.”
He nodded briefly, sliding his seat back and walking over to help me from mine.
“So, what’s the plan?” He put his hand at the small of my back to guide me out of the restaurant.
“There’s hardly a plan.”
“No?” The mockery in his tone pulled my gaze up to him. He was staring straight ahead.
“Surely…” He paused, looking down at me. “We don’t want the clothes Daniel gave you to go to waste.”
“They’ve already served their purpose. And stop acting like a jealous boyfriend.”
I nearly stumbled on a stupid area rug in the middle of the hotel atrium, but he steadied me before he clasped my hand.
“Don’t want to face-plant in front of the paps.” His gaze was still focused ahead and his voice remained arctic.
We entered the wide revolving doors.
It wasn’t a siege of reporters or a crowd one would expect from a Hollywood star, and Midtown on a Saturday night was flushed with people waiting to party anyway. A few cameras started flashing while groupies held up their phones to record.
“Matteo De Lucci.” A woman in a smart cream pantsuit broke away from the throng of people. She had the whole social media blogging reporter down pat with her gizmos attached to her belted waist.
“Miss Romero, why am I not surprised to see you?”
“This is an interesting pairing,” she said. “Are New York and Chicago looking for an alliance?”
“I think you’re asking the wrong people.”
The girl looked at me. “Seraphina Moretti, right?”
“I don’t know you, so I’m not confirming, although…” I paused. “It seems you already know, so I’m not sure why you’re asking?”
“Oh, this one has claws, Matteo,” the reporter purred.
“What do you want, Romero?” he snapped.
“Sera, Sera…” voices called from the crowd and that was when I noticed Trevor and a few men doing crowd control and, with the way they moved, they were experienced handling these types of situations.
I ignored Romero and smiled at one of Ivy’s biggest fans, who regularly commented on my friend’s social media account. I recognized her from the profile picture of purple hair and funky glasses.
“You’re camera-shy-beauty, right?” I asked.
“Oh my God, you know me,” she gushed.
I dragged Matteo over and posed for pictures with Ivy’s fandom.
“We’re shipping you hard—Matsera.”
I laughed lightly. “So I’ve heard.”
“Are you two together?”
I smiled enigmatically into her camera phone. “We like each other.” I glanced up at Matteo.
“We more than like each other.” He reeled me in and gave me a very sordid kiss that was in no way PG-13.
As his tongue swept into my surprised mouth, I tasted the port wine he had with dessert. Coupled with the heady scent of his cologne, the caress of his tongue sent my senses reeling all the way to my core.
Gasps and squeals of delight echoed around us like the spin cycle of a washing machine.
When he broke off, the promise of something in his eyes sent a pulsing wetness between my legs into overdrive.
And I was going home with this man.
Oh shit, Ivy would kill me if I didn’t promote the store.
“So, what does Dominic De Lucci think of this relationship?” the Romero reporter asked.
While Matteo gave his family-standard spiel, I continued smiling for Ivy’s groupies.
“You all should try the Magicforme evening trousers.” I tugged my hand free of Matteo’s to give a slight spin. “And these shoes?” I stuck out my foot. “You live in Manhattan. You need them. I’ve never wore pointy-toed heels this comfy.”
“Is that Irina bustier comfortable?”
“Very. Donateka has all the sizes right now. This one is a size six.”
“Six? But you’re so tiny?”
“Why does everyone say that? I’m curvy and proud of these.” I pointed my fingers to my chest.
Everyone laughed.
Matteo caught my right hand and lowered it to his side. “Come on, baby.” He kissed the top of my head. “Let’s go home,” he whispered in my ear. “Those are mine tonight.”
Everyone swooned as though they heard what he was saying while my cheeks flamed.
A limousine waited for us. Wow, Matteo pulled out all the stops for this dog and pony show.
With my mind whirling in confusion at his motives and with Matteo’s face a mask, I wordlessly got into the vehicle. When he got in beside me, there might as well have been a mile between us. He stuck to his side of the door, while I inched closer to mine.
Like the previous night, Trevor knew where to go and the man beside me didn’t speak.
I was too tired to discern his mood.
My phone buzzed with a FaceTime call.
Ivy was squealing on the other end of the line when I answered it. “You guys were fabulous! A Page Six reporter was there. Romero might sell them the story,” Ivy said breathlessly.
“What? Romero and Matteo exchanged three sentences.”
“That’s more than enough for her, believe me. She’ll go with speculations of a possible union between the two families. All she needed was confirmation that there’s a relationship.”
I glanced at my date. He was checking his phone and ignoring me.
“Here, Daniel wants to speak to you.”
I intended to say no because Ivy’s brother suddenly became a touchy subject. When Daniel’s face filled the screen and a palpable blast of displeasure came from Matteo, I had confirmation.
“Hey, babe.”
Oooh, that displeasure turned downright frosty.
“Thanks again for the clothes,” I said.
“No. Thank you. You looked downright gorgeous. The clothes are so you…”
“Well…” He was laying it on thick.
“Anytime you need another…”
The phone disappeared from my hand.
“What the hell.” I glared at Matteo who ended the call before he dropped the phone on my lap.
“As long as you’re my girlfriend, you will not accept free clothes from the Wus.”
“It goes to Donateka’s promotional expense.”
“Same difference.” He typed a furious text on his phone.
I had an incoming one from Ivy. “Forgive my brother. He’s a moron. Anyone can see Matteo was pissing a circle around you earlier.”
Despite myself, I huffed a laugh.
Matteo cut a furious look my way. “Is he texting you?”
“Relax,” I said. “That was Ivy. You and Daniel are suddenly pissing circles around me like I’m the lone fire hydrant in a dog park. What’s up with that?”
Matteo didn’t say anything and looked out the window again, but I didn’t miss how his fingers spread and flexed over his knee.
I swallowed hard and looked out my window. I wasn’t sure if I was turned on with how he seemed to be controlling his temper over his jealousy, or annoyed that he thought he had the right to be jealous.
This was a fake relationship.
But somehow over dinner, despite Matteo not hitting the mark with my preferences of street food over haute cuisine, I had so much fun. The wine was on point. I loved the way he listened as I talked about my nerdiness with academics. He seemed genuinely interested. That was more than I could say about my past dates, who were always nervous because they were afraid Luca would show up at any moment. My threat to Luca to stay out of my love life had come too late. The damage was already done.
But that was probably for the best too, because I was finding out I had no respect for a man who was afraid of my uncle. I wanted that man to love me enough to fight for me. Maybe that was why I was confused about my feelings for Daniel. I knew if he set his mind to it, he could face Luca. I’d seen him operate in the boardroom and cut his opponents down to size. He blew hot and cold, but one thing was for certain—I wasn’t his priority.
I just wasn’t worth the trouble to him, I guess, so I wish Daniel would stop with the mixed signals and let Matteo and me do our job to convince Santino there was no chance of an arranged marriage between us.
We spent the fifteen-minute car ride to Hell’s Kitchen in silence. Trevor dropped us off at the back of the building the same way he did the night before and disappeared.
Matteo and I walked up the stairs, still not saying a word.
When he let us into the apartment, he let me walk in first. The click of the door was audible in the shifting moods of this silence between us.
He prowled ahead toward the living room and switched on the TV. “Here, let’s see if your sacrifices for dear Daniel paid off.”
My shoes clacked on the wooden floor before they got muffled on the Persian rug. “I don’t know what your problem is. The optics were perfect and you know it. Donateka got what it wanted. I hear you got what you wanted and Daniel is letting you take over the real estate deal.”
He speared me a look. “And how about you, Sera? Did you get what you want?”
I cleared my throat. “That’s just it, isn’t it? I’m the only one who doesn’t win in this.”
“You don’t have to marry Santino.”
“Luca won’t force me to marry him if I don’t want to.” My shoulders drooped a little. “But yes, seeing us together should turn him off.”
My mistake was being within reach of a clearly livid man. His arm snaked out and he snatched me against him, making me aware of the solid wall of hardness when my nails grasped his sides. I tamped down the raging ache between my legs. I was not turned on by this caveman.
“What’s your problem?” I repeated, sending my killer glare into his stormy blue eyes.
He searched my gaze. “You don’t know?”
“Jealousy is not a good look on you,” I fumed.
His brow arched mockingly. “Really?”
His fingers bunched the sheer top.
My eyes widened. “Don’t you dare—”
He yanked down, ripping the top in two. He tossed the ruined fabric on the couch.
I backed away. “You’re insane. Stay away from me.”
His eyes darkened. “Don’t,” he gritted. “Run. Away.”
I paused like a person confronted by a grizzly bear. “Stop being an asshole.”
His fists clenched at his sides. “I don’t like those clothes touching any inch of your skin.”
“Or what? You’re going to strip me naked?”
“Sera,” he growled. “Don’t test me.”
I didn’t know what possessed me to challenge him by moving closer. The thrill of something else overwhelmed my initial outrage over Matteo’s destructive behavior.
How far could I take him over the edge?
I stopped just in front of him.
His body was vibrating with the same need that was thrumming through mine. I went on tiptoe, my body swaying against his so that he had to steady me at the elbows.
Tilting my chin up, I whispered, “Or what?”
