Page 46 of The Cost of Corruption

“Now Iknowyou’re trying to embarrass me,” she said, unafraid to lay the blame where it belonged—directly at my feet. “Please stop.”

“You’re right. That was over the line,” I admitted. “I’m sorry.”

The displeasure in her eyes softened as she lowered the napkin, revealing an astonished expression. “Did-did you just apologize?” she asked.

“Is it that surprising?” I found myself genuinely curious.

“Yes, actually,” she answered. “I don’t think I can remember the last time anyone told me they were sorry. Especially not a man.”

Given that almost all of her interactions with men were with family members, I wasn’t shocked. The Costas weren’t known for their deep introspection.

Then again, it wasn’t as if I was famous for admitting guilt, either. Quite the opposite, really. Much of my day was spent ensuring that no allegations thrown at the D’Angelo name ever stuck.

But there was something about Chasity’s company that lowered my defenses. Despite our quick back-and-forth conversations, I never felt the need to beonwhile I was with her. I could relax. Enjoy myself.

And apparently, I could even apologize when I truly upset her.

Interesting.

“That’s a shame,” I said. “Because it seems to me you’re owed quite a few apologies. Especially given how you’ve been treated over the years.”

“Matteo, I…I don’t…”

Whatever she was about to say was cut short when the waiter arrived with our bottle of wine. I gazed across the table at her asshe swallowed down her words and nervously glanced down at her lap.

Silence filled the space between us as the waiter poured one glass…then the other.

Hell, silence filled the whole restaurant.

Any pretense of the other patrons eating had gone out the window shortly after we’d been seated. Now, every man in the restaurant—Costa or D’Angelo—had their eyes fixed on us.

A fact that Chastity apparently could no longer ignore as she reached for her wine glass.

“Everyone is staring at us.” Concern thickened her raspy whisper.

“They are,” I agreed casually before tipping back my glass and allowing the rich Bordeaux to wash over my tongue.

“Yes, butwhyare they staring?”

With any other woman, I would have used flattery to deflect. I’d tell her it was her beauty, that every man in the room was jealous, that every last one of them wished they were me.

And as breathtakingly gorgeous as Chastity looked tonight, all that would have been closer to the truth than ever before.

But it also wouldn’t have worked.

Flattery didn’t appeal to her. She was too honest for lines like that. Too real for anything other than the truth.

“Because they were sent here to watch us,” I said plainly. “At least those sent by your family. The rest are my men, who are here to make sure that your father’s men behave.”

“Oh.” Her eyes flashed down again. A slight tremble crept into her shoulders and her voice. “I should have realized that all this—” She swept her hand down her body before flicking it out toward the room. “—was all for show.”

“For protection,” I corrected her.

“Of course,” she sighed, her disappointment coming through loud and clear. “For a second, I almost forgot how suffocating our families’ idea ofprotectioncan be.”

“You don’t like the crowd?”

That was fine.

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