Page 73 of Caruso
He spares words; that’s obvious, and I cringe inside at his lack of common decency.
“Two?” She glances at the four men accompanying us and Tommaso nods. “Two.”
She grabs some menus and shrugs. “Follow me.”
As we follow her, I keep my eyes open for a familiar face. Is Jason really here? Is it possible?
As we walk past marble columns and potted trees, I scan the area, noting the server stop at a booth set in the corner of the room.
I slip into my seat so I get a good view of the restaurant, and I’m surprised when Tommaso takes the seat beside me rather than the one opposite.
The server hands us the menus and says respectfully, “Your waiter is John. He will be along shortly.”
She can’t get away quickly enough, and as I glance after her, I notice that the four guards have taken strategic positions around the restaurant. Two outside and two inside, hugging the walls, glancing around for any surprise attacks.
“Focus, Taylor.”
Tommaso’s deep voice returns my attention to him, and I whisper, “I can’t see him.”
“Then he is not here yet.”
“How do you know he’s coming here at all?”
“He has a reservation.”
“Which you know about because…” I resist rolling myeyes because for some reason I doubt Tommaso would appreciate a little sarcasm, and he taps his fingers on the menu and says gruffly, “We discovered he is here and have contacts at reception. After a few checks, we learned he is our man, and they briefed us on his movements. Breakfast is booked for nine-thirty for him and five others. I doubt you will miss them, so remain focused on the entrance.”
“What if it is him? Do I just go up and say hi?”
“You do what you would have done if you had seen him in the street back at Oklahoma.”
I nod, nervous as I wait for something I’m ill-prepared for. I’m still unsure what Tommaso’s reason is for bringing me here, but it sounds as if I’m about to find out.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Tommaso
I’m not sure I thought this through. Taylor is like a virus that seeps into your bloodstream uninvited and unannounced, that I thought I was immune to.
As we sit and wait, I can tell she is nervous, and for some reason, so am I — nervous of her leaving, which was the goal after all. I was hoping this Jason guy would be her salvation. To take her off our hands and leave us where life makes sense, at least for now.
Instead, I’m discovering I would probably shoot the fucker dead before letting him take her hand and lead her away from me—from us.
I love how she checks her sass around me. It’s obvious she’s guarded, and I’m guessing I have Matteo to thank for that.
It’s not long before our waiter arrives and takes our order. Coffee and pastries for me, water and fruit for Taylor.
She eats like a bird and has the figure of one. I prefer my women curvy, ones that don’t appear to need a square meal inside them. I’m a lover of food and would appreciate a companion with the same proclivities. I will have to work on that. If she stays. If she chooses to remain here.
I’m aware it’s her choice, and that is the correct way. Imprisoning women goes against everything we believe, and she will be no different. If she goes, we lose; if she stays, we win, and I wonder how one car ride has changed my perception of that.
She shifts a little closer, and my body tenses as my leg touches against hers. I chose this seat for a good view of the restaurant, not to be close to her. It has its advantages, though, because I’m not averse to her proximity, and she leans in and whispers, “What if he doesn’t remember me?”
“Then he must have had a fall and knocked his head.”
She chuckles softly, and it spears me directly in the heart.
Out of interest and to fill in the awkward gaps in the conversation, I say deeply, “Tell me about him.”
