Page 35 of Christmas with the Mafia
He smiles. “Good.”
I’m surprised when he reaches up and holds my face in his hand and his thumb rubs a deep trail down the side ofmy cheek. His intense gaze burns as he whispers, “I am your friend, Regina. The only one you need now. You can tell me anything at all, and I will fight your demons for you.”
“I don’t have any, um, demons.”
His eyes flash.
“Are you sure about that?”
I mentally flick through a Rolodex of my friends and acquaintances, and I’m coming up blank.
“Um, no. I don’t think there are any weirdoes in my life.”
“You thought the same five minutes ago, and yet here we are.”
“Wait!” My eyes widen. “Are you going to tell me another one of my, um, friends or family is crooked?”
“I can tell you a lot of things, Regina, but no, crooked isn’t one of them, and by the way, it’s an odd choice of word.”
I say nothing, and his breath is hot against my face as he leans closer and whispers darkly, “I will keep the wolves from your door. Trust me to keep you safe, baby girl, and always know I have your best interests at heart.”
“For the next two days?” I gulp as his eyes burn into mine.
“For the next two days, you will live like a queen. After that, we’ll see where we are and adjust accordingly.”
I open my mouth to question that statement, and as his lips close over mine, I am rigid with shock. His hand moves and tightens behind my head, and as he deepens the kiss, I close my eyes and go along for the ride. After all, it’s something I’ve wanted to do since I first saw him this morning so I’m not going to complain now and as we kiss—sorry,practice—I am swept away by the madness that also goes by the name of Nicholas Ravera.
Ten minutes later, the car stops, and I slump back in my seat, my lips swollen from the longest, most intense kiss of my life.
Before I have time to speak, the door opens, and Nico once again grasps my hand and pulls me from the car.
The rude one is scanning the sidewalk, and I’m shocked when I notice we aren’t at the restaurant.
“Did we take a detour?” I ask as I stare up at Bergdorf Goodman, the doorman almost saluting Nico as we pass.
“First, you need a suitable outfit. We will continue shopping after breakfast to secure the rest of our purchases.”
I am almost giddy with excitement as we pass through the decadent displays crammed full of luxury and all things Christmas. It’s early; in fact, it’s surprising that they are open given it’s eight am, and as we pass through the empty store, I whisper, “Where is everybody?”
Nico shrugs. “I don’t care about other people. I know the manager, and he allowed us a preview before the store opens.”
“A preview of what?”
I’m beginning to realize that I’m way out of my depth, and as we head into the women’s department, a lady steps forward with a huge smile.
“You must be Regina.”
Nico pushes me toward her and says gruffly, “We have fifteenminutes. She needs an outfit suitable for the finest restaurant and an appointment at Harry Winston’s. I suggest a cream Chanel suit for the occasion, with a silk camisole and matching underwear. Pantyhose and complementary heels and purse — that must be the latest ones. Some shades to protect her eyes against the threat of the sun and an overcoat both stylish and chic, yet practical and warm.”
He fixes her with a firm, “Fifteen minutes, Mrs. Francis.”
“Of course, sir.”
I’m practically manhandled into the dressing room, and once again I am shocked into silence as a glass of champagne is thrust into my hand, and Mrs. Francis says firmly, “While you undress, I will gather the required outfit choices. Give me five minutes.”
As she leaves, I glance at my reflection in the full-length mirror and note that I resemble a petrified deer caught in headlights. This is what I am now. Roadkill, because what the hell just happened. My fingers shake as I reach for my phone, desperate to capture at least some of this for my vlog, but as I search in my purse, I come up blank and with a sigh remember leaving it on charge in my apartment.
Before I can even bemoan my negligence, I hear movement outside and quickly attempt to remove the layers of clothing that only made it onto my body less than an hour ago.
