Page 44 of The Cost of Corruption

A few of the diner’s faces even looked familiar. And bizarrely, every last one of them was a man.

A cold chill that had nothing to do with the weather outside raced up my spine.

Something strange was going on.

Even if the all-male crowd was just a coincidence, the only people I could recognize in New York were either priests or mobsters...and there wasn’t a single white collar in Bianco’s dining room.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” I whispered, pulling close to Matteo’s side.

“You don’t like the food here?” he said. “You should have told me back in the car.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” The savory aromas filling the space certainly smelled delicious. “But there are men my father knows here.”

Matteo didn’t look the least bit surprised by the news. “They have to eat too.”

Well, of course they did, but… “They’ll talk, and my father will find out we’ve been out together in public.”

“Good,” he said, sliding his arm around my waist for everyone to see. “The sooner he comes to terms with the fact that you are no longer a child under his control, the better.”

“But—”

He turned his head, looking me in the eye with such resolve that the protest hitched in my throat.

“I don’t live my life in fear, Chastity,” he said. “If you only take one lesson away from our time together, I hope it’s that no one should. Especially not you.”

Gazing into the fathomless depths of his dark eyes, I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

God, I wanted to believe him.

When he talked like that, it was impossible not to get wrapped up in the magic of his words and wish for impossible things.

I could have stood there forever, enraptured by the sight of him, standing so tall and confident at my side. But the next second, the maître d’ appeared, breaking the spell.

“Right this way, Mr. D’Angelo,” the man said from behind the podium. “We have your table, just as you asked.”

“Keep your head up,” Matteo whispered against my ear as he led me through the tables to a booth on the far side of the room.

Even though my natural impulse was to hide my face, I forced myself to do as he said. It wasn’t easy with so many faces staring at us. My fingers clung to his forearm as I forced myself to breathe.

“Good girl,” he purred against my ear when we finally arrived at the booth, and I slipped into my seat.

And God help me, my heart hammered at the sound.

Chapter Twelve

MATTEO

At the risk of losing my soul to the pit of hell for blasphemy as Chastity had warned—holy shit, she was hot.

Of course, I knew that long before she’d descended the stairs in a form-fitting dress that had accentuated the deep curve of her waist and swell of her hips. The sight of her in that thing had almost caused me to rush forward, throw her over my shoulder, and carry her right back up to my bed.

Screw a night out. Forget dinner and whatever came after. All I wanted was her.

But in the end, I’d wrestled back enough control to stick to the plan I’d formed that day.

Gabriel was right. It would be a mistake for me to venture into Brooklyn. But that didn’t mean that I should lay low.

No. Right now, it was more important than ever for me and the might of the D’Angelo family to be seen.

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