Page 2 of Lord of Little Italy

I can still feel the heat of Tony's body as we leave the gym, my skin tingling where he pinned me to the mat. The infamous Lord of Little Italy, they call him. The most dangerous man in the neighborhood. I've heard the stories - how he once took down an entire rival operation single-handedly, how even the cops give him a wide berth. But right now, watching him scowl at a teenager who dared to skateboard too close to us, he reminds me more of a grumpy bear.

My heart's still racing from our sparring match, and not just from the physical exertion. The way he moved, all controlled power and precise skill, was something else. And when he had me pinned... God, I should not be thinking about how good his weight felt on top of me, or how his eyes darkened when I squirmed beneath him.

"This coffee shop better be worth it, princess," he growls, dodging a young mother with a stroller. His face softens for a split second when the baby waves at him, then immediately hardens again when he catches me watching. The contradiction makes my stomach flip - this dangerous man with hidden soft spots.

"Aw, look at that. The big bad wolf has a soft spot for babies," I tease, trying to mask how charmed I am by this glimpse of his gentler side.

"I do not." He shoves his hands in his pockets, looking positively murderous when someone asks to take a selfie with the 'famous Tony Rivera.' I wave them away before he can traumatize them, but not before noticing how his fitted suit stretches across his shoulders. The man knows how to dress, I'll give him that.

"You know, your face might stick like that if you keep frowning."

"I'm not frowning. This is my normal face."

"Sure it is, sunshine." The nickname slips out before I can stop it, but the way his eye twitches in response is too delicious to regret.

We reach Giuseppe's, my favorite hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. The bell chimes as we enter, and the rich aroma of fresh-ground beans fills the air. Old Giuseppe himself is behind the counter, and his eyes widen when he sees who I've brought with me. I've been coming here since I was a kid, but I've never brought anyone from the family business before.

"Signorina Isabella!" Giuseppe calls out warmly, then his voice drops about ten degrees. "Mr. Rivera."

I hide my smile as Tony grunts in response. The man has a reputation for making grown men quake in their boots, but something about his grumpiness just makes me want to poke the bear.

"The usual for me, Giuseppe," I say, "and whatever Mr. Sunshine here wants."

Tony shoots me a look that would make lesser women tremble. I just wink at him, enjoying the way his jaw clenches. Has anyone ever dared to tease him like this? Something tells me no.

"Black coffee," he barks at Giuseppe. "None of that fancy crap."

"Would it kill you to say please?" I ask as we settle into my usual corner table. I watch him move, all predatory grace even in something as simple as sitting down. It's distracting.

"Yes." But there's a hint of amusement in his eyes now. "And what's with the Mr. Sunshine business?"

"Well, you're just so bright and cheerful, it seemed fitting." I lean forward, resting my chin on my hand. "I bet you're the life of every party."

A laugh escapes him before he can stop it, and oh my God, it transforms his entire face. The perpetual scowl disappears, his dark eyes crinkle at the corners, and suddenly I'm looking at a man who could charm the wings off an angel. My breath catches in my throat. He should come with a warning label: Caution - Devastatingly Handsome When Smiling.

Then, just as quickly, the scowl returns, but I've seen behind the mask now. I want to see it again.

"Don't get cute with me, princess."

"Too late. I was born cute." I bat my eyelashes exaggeratedly, delighting in the way he tries not to smile.

Giuseppe brings our coffee, practically throwing Tony's at him before setting mine down with careful precision. I notice Tony leaves him a hundred-dollar tip anyway, tucked under the saucer when he thinks I'm not looking. Another contradiction - thesupposed heartless gangster, leaving generous tips and smiling at babies.

"So," I say, taking a sip of my perfectly made vanilla latte, "do you practice that scowl in the mirror every morning, or does it come naturally?"

"Do you practice being a pain in my ass, or does that come naturally?"

"Oh, that's all natural talent, baby." The endearment slips out playfully, but something shifts in the air between us. His eyes darken slightly, and I feel heat crawl up my neck.

"You're not what I expected," he admits after a moment, his voice rougher than before.

"Let me guess – you thought I'd be some pampered mafia princess who needs her hand held?" I've heard it all before. Dominic's little sister, the protected princess, the liability.

"Something like that." He leans back, studying me over his coffee cup, and I feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch. "Instead, I get a martial arts expert with a smart mouth who's not afraid of the big bad wolf."

"Disappointed?" I aim for teasing, but my voice comes out breathier than intended.

"Intrigued."

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