Page 9 of Boss of Brooklyn

Sofia hesitates for a moment, eyeing me warily. Then a mischievous smile spreads across her face. “Why not? You only live once, right?”

She takes the helmet and climbs on behind me, her arms wrapping tentatively around my waist. The feeling of her pressed against my back sends a jolt through my body.

“Hold on tight,” I warn her, revving the engine.

As we speed through the city streets, I feel Sofia relax behind me, her grip becoming more secure. The wind whips around us, carrying away the stress and expectations that usually weighme down. For these moments, I'm not Luca Del Toro, mafia boss. I'm just a man on a motorcycle with a beautiful woman.

We ride for what feels like hours, weaving through traffic and taking in the glittering lights of the city. Finally, I pull over in front of a small, unassuming storefront. The neon sign in the window flickers: “99¢ Pizza.”

Sofia climbs off the bike, looking at me with amused disbelief. “Seriously? This is where the great Luca Del Toro eats?”

I shrug, grinning. “What can I say? I'm a man of simple tastes.”

We step inside, the smell of grease and melted cheese filling the air. The guy behind the counter barely glances up as we order our slices. We find a small table in the corner, the vinyl seats cracked and worn.

Sofia takes a bite of her pizza, her eyes widening in surprise. “Okay, I have to admit, this is pretty good.”

I chuckle at her reaction. “Told you.”

As we eat, we fall into easy conversation. Sofia tells me about her childhood summers in Italy, her eyes lighting up as she describes her Nonna's cooking. I find myself sharing stories of my own family, memories I haven't revisited in years.

“You're not what I expected, Luca Del Toro,” Sofia says suddenly, studying me over her pizza slice.

I lean back, curious. “And what did you expect?” It’s a struggle to meet her eyes as mine keep focusing on those lips of hers.

She shrugs. “I don't know. Someone colder, I guess. More...threatening. Like the other night.”

I pause before replying. “About that night at your restaurant. I am… working on that.”

Sofia's quiet for a moment, considering my words. “Really?”

I nod. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Her smile is radiant. I realize I’d move heaven and earth to see it again. “Why were you really there that day in the alley?” she asks suddenly.

I freeze, caught off guard by her directness. For a moment, I consider lying again, but something in her eyes makes me want to be honest.

“I was watching you,” I admit. “I've been... intrigued since we met.”

Sofia's eyes widen slightly, but she doesn't look angry. “Intrigued enough to stalk me?”

I wince at her choice of words. “I wouldn't call it stalking. More like... intense curiosity.”

To my surprise, Sofia laughs. “You're ridiculous, you know that? Most men just ask a girl out for coffee.”

I feel a spark of hope at her teasing tone. “Is that what you want? Coffee?”

Sofia looks at me for a long moment, her expression softening. “I don't know what I want, Luca. You're... complicated.”

She’s not wrong. But it doesn’t matter. I already know I want this girl. “I'm not as complicated as you think, Sofia. At least, not with you.”

“But why me? I mean, aren’t you a ga-jillionaire or something? You probably have women throwing themselves at you everywhere you go.”

I give her a hard stare. “Because none of those women affect me the way you do. None of them surprise me like you do. And no, I’m just a billionaire.” I wink at her, and she laughs as she shakes her head.

As we step outside, I'm surprised to feel raindrops on my face. Sofia looks up at the sky, laughing as the drizzle turns into a downpour.

“Come on,” I say, grabbing her hand. “We should get back to the bike.”

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