Page 82 of Dirty Dancer

“Of course.”

Tom had been my driver for the last three years. In a few months, he’d get a break because I’d have my own license. I already knewhowto drive. I literally just waited out the clock on our birthday.

I pulled out my phone to check for messages as Tom drove us to the restaurant. Mom and Dad always invited me to a late lunch, early dinner after my training sessions because I’d already be in the city. Afterwards, Tom would take me back to school.

Most of the time I was late.

The suit and tie would hide everything but the shiner. But it was hardly the first time I came to dinner with a black eye. It wouldn’t be the last either. All too soon, Tom pulled up at Formaggio’s, the Italian restaurant that was Mom’s favorite.

“See you in a couple of hours. You want manicotti or ravioli?”

“Ravioli,” Tom said with a grin. “Definitely the ravioli and some of those little Parmesan bread bits.”

“You got it.” I left my training bag in the car as I slid out. The valet nodded to the doorman who let me into the restaurant. I tugged my sunglasses off as soon as i was in.

“Mr. O’Connell,” Linda the hostess greeted me with a warm smile. She had a grandmother’s demeanor and always smelled like baked bread and sugar cookies. “Liam, your mother is here, it’s your father who is late today.”

“Always has to be one of us,” I told her. “I can get to the table.” I waved her off from escorting me as I tucked my phone into the inner jacket pocket where I’d feel it if it vibrated and headed across the family restaurant to the private booths. We practically owned one since Mom ate here at least once a week.

“Liam!” Surprise and delight filtered through her tone as I reached the table. “You’re on time!”

“I heard Dad was going to be late and didn’t want to leave a beautiful woman like you unescorted.”

“Oh for the love of God,” she muttered, swatting my arm as I braced a hand on the back of the booth to dip my head and press a kiss to her cheek. “You men. Both of you. As if I constantly have to beat off the suitors with a stick.”

“You don’t have to, Mom,” I promised. “We’ll happily take care of it for you.”

A man would have to be blind to not see how Mom looked at Dad and while this was a fun joke, because it never failed to make her blush or smile, I was dead serious.

I’d happily beat the shit out of anyone that looked at her the wrong way. Mom had changed my life. She loved me, she loved my mirror, and she’d always made room for him even if he didn’t want to be there full time.

They were family in all the right ways.

As I took a seat, a waiter appeared with my water and a glass of soda. I didn’t have to order, they always knew what I wanted.

“I suppose if I ask about the shiner, you’re just going to grin and say I should see the other guy?”

“I could,” I offered. “Or we could skip that conversation and you can tell me how your week is going. I know you and Dad were talking about heading over to Paris for fashion week, is that still on?”

“Liam, you couldn’t care less about fashion week.”

“But you love it,” I said. “You care a lot and that means I care about you being happy.”

Her laughter was a reward all its own. “You and your father, kissed by all that Irish charm.”

Sometimes. Or maybe I was just serious. I liked it when Mom was happy. She took the offer and filled me in on their travelplans. While I wasn’t big on fashion or retail, I soaked up every bit of information. Some day, I would take over the business so they could just do the things they loved.

They carved out a place in their world for me and I’d damn well take it and then make sure the world left them alone to do as they wished. I had a plan and they were a big part of it.

My parents. My mirror. My brothers.

The whole damn world would have to go through me to get any of them.

It was why I trained. It was why I studied. It was why I stayed focused.

INITIATION (ALTERNATE POV)

ROME

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