Page 59 of Drowned in Gold

He flings the apron off, fixes his shirt, and takes his seat across from me, waiting patiently for my comments on his presentation.

I say nothing, keeping him in suspense as I pick up my utensils to test the dish. He’s still a bit frazzled, which I can’t get enough of. I’m going to bask in this moment.

Cutting the chicken slowly is torture for him – his micro-grunts under his breath tell me so. I take my time dipping the piece in his meticulously prepared golden-brown sauce. When I bite into the juicy splash of lemon and butter, my eyes widen for a fraction of a second. It’s official, he cooks as good as he fucks.

“Well?” he growls.

I look at him with stars in my eyes. All is forgiven.

“Amazing.” I cover my mouth so he can’t see me chewing.

“You’re just saying that.” He’s still tense.

I shake my head and close my eyes, then when I’m done chewing, lean over the table with my lips puckered.

With that, he finally relaxes, meeting me halfway.

God, I missed his lips. He tastes like mint mixed with a touch of Johnnie Blue. It takes everything not to jump over the table and seduce him where he sits. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.

I fall back into my seat. “Tell me everything, Castor. How the heck did you get this all prepped for me?”

He grins while taking a bite for himself. “Hey, I did pretty good!”

“Told you I wasn’t kidding.”

“This is my friend Arturo’s restaurant. He grew up with me and your brother, but never wanted in on the underground life. We remained close, and as long as I don’t cause a ruckus for his customers, my crew always has a private room to talk business and eat. This… was a bigger favor.”

“Oh?” I raise my eyebrows.

“Yeah.” He points. “I had him redecorate the place. Those chandeliers are brand new. So is the carpet. Called in a three-person cleaning crew and told the chef the fresh ingredients I needed for the night. The list goes on.”

I nearly choke on my food. “You did all that?”

He did all that, for me?

He tilts his head, giving me a look that says it all. He’s a high-ranking captain of the Valentino crime family. Enough said.

“He asked me who the special lady was.” Castor stabs at his chicken.

I use my hands to frame my glistening, disheveled face.

Castor chuckles at that. “I told him to fuck off as politely as possible.”

“He wouldn’t tell—”

“Unless he wanted his head served on a platter next,” he growls, then immediately softens when he sees my face. “Sorry, too soon.”

I want to laugh. His delivery was kind of funny, but the realness of it sucks the life out of me all over again. “Castor.” I frown.

“What? I said I’m sorry. Just kidding around.”

“Yeah, I know, but—” I shake my head and stare down at my food.

“Say it, Gia.”

“This is an amazing date. I don’t want our bliss to be short-lived because of your lifestyle. But I’m scared it will be.”

He drops his utensils as if he didn’t just ask for this.

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