Page 23 of His Passerotta

If she requires pain to motivate her to talk … so be it. But I don’t want to be the one to hurt her. A man? Sure. A baseball bat to the knees, maybe pluck out a few teeth with pliers, and most anyone will talk. When it comes to handling women, however, I almost always pass them off to Lorenzo. I guess I’m ‘soft’ like that.

My thumb hovers over the call button, and I’m milliseconds away from pushing when she speaks.

“I have a crush on you.”

My hand freezes, and I turn my head to her, confusion tightening my face.

She looks away, her cheeks bright red now. “I don’t know you, but I’ve seen you multiple times in Freddy’s, and you just seem … different. You order complicated drinks, never the same thing twice, and it made me think you had an appreciation for what I do. You’re polite and tip big, and you use coasters, which doesn’t sound like much, but most people don’t and you just… You’re different.”

I use coasters.

She has a crush on me because I use coasters.

That might be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard… And, still, I believe her. I don’t know how she could possibly blush this deeply while faking.

“My brother saw a listing for a server position at La Divina, and I applied because I thought there was a chance you might remember me from Freddy’s and let me bartend.”

She inhales through her nostrils, her hands wringing like this is mortifying for her. It’s cute.

My lips twitch.

Okay, I was wrong. This is fun.

“Today, when I saw you and you paid for my things, it only added to the idea of you I had in my head. My battery really was dead, and I really did need a jump, but you’re right, it wasn’t a coincidence that I asked you of all people for help… But tonight was a coincidence. I had no idea you or anyone else would be there, and I’m so so so sorry I broke in. I…”

She doesn’t finish her thought, just wrings her hands and stares at her lap while her humiliation and fear cloud the room.

The urge to comfort her, tell her not to be embarrassed is strong, but I remain silent. It would only be patronizing if I tried.

How could I not remember her? She pegged me too accurately to be lying, so I know she’s telling the truth when she says she’s met me at Freddy’s. That means I’ve spoken to her. Money has changed hands. I’ve somehow seen those eyes, those lips, that flowing hair, those perky tits. It doesn’t feel possible, but it must be the truth.

My eyes lower to her chest, the bulky sweatshirt hiding what I saw this afternoon.

If I’d only noticed her sooner, I’d have a better picture of what she looks like underneath those clothes.

“Are you going to kill me?”

The lust loosening my senses abruptly shatters, the blood flowing into my dick changing course as reality slaps me in the face.

I forgot. For a solid minute, I forgot the inevitable.

Maybe it isn't inevitable.

Maybe… Maybe no one has to know.

I scoff at my thoughts, and Bailey notices, probably thinking it’s directed at her.

“Anthony,” she says, my name buttery soft on her lips. “Please.”

Anthony.

Please.

The combined words drilled into me at La Divina, and they’re even more effective here.

“How am I supposed to trust you?” I ask, hoping she has a convincing answer.

She closes her eyes, her shoulders beginning to tremble. I don’t think she’s going to answer, so I search for one myself.

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