Page 67 of His Passerotta

Anthony catches me before I can hit the floor and hauls me up with his hand around my back. “Whoa, hey, you okay?” he asks, studying me when I regain my footing. I’m definitely going to pass out soon, but for the moment, I’m somewhat steady.

“Food.”

“Huh?” he asks like the command confuses him. Understanding flashes across his face a moment later, and he turns us toward the exit without waiting for a response.

I walk with him from the reception with his arm wrapped around my back, holding me up, but when we get into the hall, his patience must wane because he bends and scoops me up.

Nausea overwhelms me, so I close my eyes while he walks. It takes several minutes, but eventually he finds a kitchen and sits me down on the counter. I slowly open my eyes, taking deep, slow inhales through my nose to fight the nausea.

Everything in the kitchen seems to be cleaned up, no staff members in sight, so I think I missed the opportunity for proper food, but the wedding cake sits next to me. The urge to tackle it is strong. If Anthony weren’t here and this wasn’t a made man’s cake, I wouldn’t bother fighting it.

“Uh,” Anthony says, rifling through a cabinet, probably searching for plates. He swings it shut and turns to the cake. “You know what, fuck it.” He digs into the bottom tier, retrieving a handful.

I take it from his outstretched hand and immediately shove the whole thing in my face. It’s embarrassing, and I’m hyperaware of him staring at me, but my body doesn’t care about my pride at the moment.

My tastebuds light up at the rich icing, so good I close my eyes with a moan. Before I can even consider savoring it, I’ve put away the entire handful and am licking the icing from my fingers.

I chance a glance at Anthony to see him holding a piece, this time plated. He hands it to me while my face reddens, and finally, I’m able to calm down, chewing one bite at a time. I feel a hundred times better already.

“Does this happen often?” he asks with concern.

I don’t look at him. If I do, I’ll picture what I must look like to him, and I’ll want to puke again just thinking about it.

I shrug, chewing and swallowing a bite of the cake. I try to put a name to the type this is, but I’ve never had it before. Whatever it is, it’s good.

“I’m hypoglycemic. I carry something in my purse in case my blood sugar drops, but my kidnappers confiscated my things.”

We sit in silence for several moments, my heart racing imagining what he must be thinking.

“I’m sorry that happened tonight… I’ll get your purse back first thing in the morning.”

“Thanks,” I say, picking at white, crystal icing. “I wonder if Maksim will take his fifty bucks back.” I laugh to myself, and Anthony cautiously chuckles in response.

“What?”

Finally, I’m able to look at him. My heart slows when I don’t see disgust in his expression. Only curiosity. “We ran into each other at the mall when his little sister was buying a pair of sunglasses where I work. She tipped me fifty dollars.”

He nods, his lips lifted into a tiny smirk. “Well, that makes up for everything.”

“I was hoping he wouldn’t recognize me, but…” I wave my hand around in a ‘here we are’ gesture and laugh. “At least I get cake.”

“And you get to see me.” His smirk grows. “Next time you want to hang out, you can just call.”

“Obviously, I’m not that basic.”

“Obviously,” he parrots, situating himself between my legs. He takes the plate to set it down beside me.

I think he’ll make at least one or two smartass remarks, but he doesn’t. Instead, he threads his fingers through my hair and kisses my icing-dusted lips.

My eyes close as I kiss him back, wrapping my hands around his neck. I’m taken back to last night, before my brother ruined everything, and all the lust rushes back in. That is, until my brother manages to ruin it again, our earlier conversation coming into my mind.

Corey wants to kill Anthony.

If Anthony finds out, he’ll want to kill Corey.

Anthony must sense the sudden tension I feel because he pulls back. “Everything okay?”

I nod. “Yeah, I just…” I glance down at the plate. “I’m still a little dizzy.”

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