Page 21 of A Very Rossi Christmas
When I glanced through the entry toward the restaurant itself, though, I realized that this wasn't the sort of place you brought kids to. Everyone was in black tie formal or something a step above that, the penguin suits thick on the ground. Several of the men were actually wearing roses in their lapels, and I saw more than one woman with a corsage on.
God, maybe I should have made reservations. I was wearing a suit, of course—had been since I finalized my business with Patrelli earlier—but I hadn't realized this place was so... upscale.
Given the number of suits in the room, I was starting to feel like I'd walked into some meeting of the Five Families in New York. Minus the furtive looks and guns.
At least I hoped so, as I'd left mine back at the hotel and didn't exactly feel like being caught unarmed in a shoot-out tonight.
I gave the hostess my name—or the fake one I was using—and told her that yes, it would only be me tonight, and moments later I found myself sitting at the bar facing the kitchen. It wasn't the most sophisticated place I'd ever sat, and the bar stool was less than comfortable, but I wasn't going to complain about being so close to the booze.
"Your best house red," I told the bartender who slid a menu my way.
He nodded and left, and I glanced down to see the place offered all the usual Italian fare. Spaghetti with meat sauce—and meatballs if you were feeling brave—lasagna, gnocchi, fettuccine alfredo, chicken parm...
I made my decision quickly—I'd always been a sucker for spaghetti with meatballs—and then looked up into the mirror over the bar, taking in the room in reverse. Nothing new to see there, really. Garland, garland, and more garland. Rich people with too little to do. There was a Christmas tree in the corner that I hadn't noticed before, done up in only twinkling lights and looking awfully classy, and the tables were spaced out enough that the place actually looked...
Nice, I conceded. It looked a lot nicer than I'd originally thought.
A sip of the wine the bartender brought upped my opinion even more, and when I actually turned and looked over the room, I was feeling a whole lot more generous toward the place.
When I saw Sloane Brennan sitting at a table by herself, tucked into an almost-hidden corner in the foyer and engrossed in what looked like some sort of textbook, I nearly spat out the mouthful of wine I'd just taken.
What the fuck was the girl doing, figuring out where I was going to be every day and then finding a reason to be there herself? This was the third time I'd run into her by accident, and it was starting to feel a whole lot less accidental.
Of course I knew I was fooling myself. There were zero reasons for her to be reverse-stalking me—or regular stalking me—given the situation. She'd made it perfectly clear that she didn't want to see me again in that dark hallway in the bar.
Or at least that was what she'd said with her mouth. Her body, her eyes, her lips... Those had all said something completely different. I might have been too quick to kiss her, but she hadn't exactly resisted. And I'd seen how much she wanted me to do it again.
Of course that had been before she started poking at me.
She'd left bruises, by the way. I'd checked.
Now, though... I watched as she frowned at the book in front of her, wrote something in the margins, and then sat back and stared at it, like she was waiting for it to suddenly give her the answer she was looking for. That pose must have worked, too, because a moment later her brow grew smooth and she grinned to herself, then ducked forward to writing something else in the book.
Part of me screamed at the fact that she was actually defacing a book that way. Another part desperately wanted to know what she was writing, and why she was in this schmoozy restaurant doing what looked like studying.
On Christmas Eve.
This wasn't some coffee shop or cheap café. I hadn't gone to college, and I hadn't been that great at high school, but even I knew this wasn't the sort of place you took your books and spread them across the table, staying for hours and hours while you got ready for the next big test. I still didn't know what Sloane was doing in LA, exactly, but this... Well, she was evidently doing something that required studying, but where and why and how and—
At that moment, the guy who I'd seen following her slid into the chair opposite her and leaned toward her, his face covered in a leer of truly epic proportions. When she looked up, shocked at the sudden company, he started speaking quickly, gesturing at her and then himself and shaking his head back and forth.
Anyone with eyes in their head could have seen that whatever he was saying, it wasn't welcome news. Sloane's face went from shocked to angry, and then a bit nervous. When the guy leaned forward and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, jerking at her a bit, the shock and anger in her eyes flared, her mouth twisting with frustration.
I was on my feet and making my way toward her before I knew what I was doing. I didn't know who the hell that guy was or what he was doing interrupting her in the middle of her study session—in the middle of a really swanky restaurant—but it didn't matter. Sloane didn't want him there and the alarm in her eyes had triggered something deep inside me.
Something I wasn't looking at too closely right now.
All I could think about was that I needed to get to her and get the guy off of her before something went down. He wasn't a large guy, but she was incredibly tiny, and it wouldn't take much for someone to grab her and make off with her.
Would he grab her and kidnap her from a crowded restaurant where everyone was now watching their wrestling match?
Doubtful. But as I said, I wasn't thinking particularly clearly at the moment.
I was too consumed with a possessiveness I hadn't felt in five fucking years. A bone-deep knowledge that that tiny girl with the gray eyes and copper curls was mine, and that I didn't want anyone else touching her.
Unfortunately, it was harder to get through the restaurant than I'd expected. Yeah, the tables were spread out quite a bit, but getting through a space crowded with moving chairs and people that you had to apologize for bothering took some time. There were also waiters to contend with, and the one that blocked my path at that moment was carrying an enormous tray full of dishes.
I jerked out of his way, my eyes on the spot behind him where Sloane might be fighting off a captor at this very moment. Once the waiter was out of the way, I slid smoothly back into the aisle, on my way to her side, when I saw...
