Page 39 of Lies like Rubies, Part One

“But you’re still an Italian-American family in Yorkfield,” Sofia finished for me, smiling wryly. “Yeah, I get it.” She sighed. “I’m studying finance and languages. My parents approve both as useful to the family, but they’re also a ticket out of here when I graduate.” She laughed bitterly. “They were so angry when I chose Chinese instead of Russian.”

She wanted out, or at least she was allowing herself to daydream about getting out one day. Ruthlessly, I swept away the daydreams that gave me hope for a future with this beautiful, resilient woman. She’d accomplished so much despite the cage her family kept her in.One day at a time, Nick.When the waiter brought our dinners, I let go of her hand and dug into my food.

Sofia never let the conversation lag, never gave in to another awkward moment, and never dropped her charming facade as we ate and chatted about innocuous topics. Every time the conversation veered toward her family, she gently steered it back to me. I might have missed it if I hadn’t been paying such close attention and weren’t so worried about the deep shadows under her eyes, not entirely covered with makeup—as if I had the right to worry about her.

First date,I reminded myself. I chose medicine instead of the family business. It’d be unfair to complain when a woman as clever as Sofia shied away from the drama and hurt coming from her own.

It was unreasonable to expect Sofia to be as wrapped up in me as I, apparently, was already wrapped up in her.Jesus.Dating anyone, especially a Russo, was a complication I didn’t want in my life. I had a successful practice. I’d found clubs not associated with the mob where I could indulge my kink. Most of all, I’d managed to limit my association with organized crime—none of the mafia parents wanted their kids’ doctor mixed up in shady shit.

The conversation slowed to a stop, leaving us gazing into each other’s eyes like lovesick teenagers. She dragged her finger around the rim of her long empty cocktail glass as we watched each other. I licked my lips, and she flushed.

“Let’s get dessert,” I said.

“We can share.” She signaled to the waiter. “What do you like?”

You, Sofia. I want to lay you out in front of me like a fucking buffet and taste every inch of you until you’re screaming my name.

“Chocolate,” I said instead.

A few minutes later, a bowl of chocolate mousse sat between us. I grabbed both spoons, intending to indulge myself in case I never saw her again. She tilted her head but didn’t say anything. I dipped a spoon into the rich chocolate and held it for her to take.

Sofia waited for a beat, as if debating with herself, then leaned forward and wrapped her soft, pink lips around the spoon. She hummed softly at the taste before pulling back and swallowing. When she licked her lips, it was all I could do to stay in my seat instead of hauling her out of there so I could devour her.

I held her eyes and took a bite, noting how her tongue peeked out to lick her lips when I took the spoon in my mouth. Bite by bite, I fed the two of us, ratcheting up the silent tension as we consumed the chocolate instead of each other.

By the time we finished the mousse, I was hard and aching. By the flush in her cheeks, Sofia felt equally aroused. Before I could scoop up the last bite, she ran her finger around the bowl, catching the last bit. She offered her finger to me, and I bent my head forward to capture it between my lips, sucking the sweet chocolate off her skin. When I licked her finger, her eyes glazed over, and her lips parted as her breath turned ragged and uneven. When I finally released it, I grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, my voice gravelly with desire. I signaled for the check, and a few minutes later, we were dashing to my car, giggling like teenagers. Unable to wait a moment longer to taste her, I shoved her back against the passenger door and cupped her jaw with one hand, drawing her to me.

She lifted onto her toes to wrap her arms around my neck and met me halfway, pressing her lips to mine in a delicious and chocolatey kiss. When she opened her mouth, I slid my tongue in, and she pulled me closer. Fuck, she felt amazing pressed between my body and the car, like we were two puzzle pieces sliding together.

When I skimmed my fingers down her back to cup her ass and hold her against my hard length, she gasped, and when I drew one thigh up to fit us more closely together, she whimpered. I couldn’t get enough of her, moving my mouth down her jaw to work the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder until she melted against me, breathing my name on her lips as I nipped and nibbled across her collarbone.

I lost myself in the joy of tasting her skin, drawing soft gasps of pleasure out of her before the rowdy laughter and clapping of students abruptly broke the spell. I stood up straight, tucking her head under my chin and holding her tight as I struggled to get my libido under control.

“Fuck, Sofia,” I whispered.

She nodded against my chest, her deep breaths as unsteady as mine.

We stood there, pressed together, holding each other as we regained our equilibrium. When she finally tilted her head back up to look at me, her cheeks were flushed, and her lips bruised and swollen, begging me to tug on them with my teeth until she whimpered. It took every bit of willpower not to drag her against me and kiss her again.

First date,I reminded myself. “I’ll take you home.”

16

SERGIO

I spatat Gio Costa’s feet. This was why he brought me back? Petty maneuvering between the families? Fuck that. I was back for Sofia and my child and to take my place by her side, as I should have five years ago before those Irish fuckers chased me out of town.

“How long do you expect me to wait?” I asked him, fury darkening my tone. Until I got my hands on the reins, Gio Costa had his hands around my metaphorical throat. I had a million dollars tied up in accounts with Sofia’s name on them because Gio Costa told me that if I lifted his family out of genteel poverty, he’d make me his second in command and heir. Hiding my ill gotten gains from trafficking girls and stealing from Oscuro had been easy, once I realized I could launder it through my future wife and my child.

Gio laughed softly, swirling his glass of whiskey. “Patience, Sergio. Do you want Sofia to come willingly, or do you want to have to kidnap and drug her so she’ll sign?”

I twisted my lips in anger. The Russo name would only protect me once Sofia signed on the dotted line. Until then, I’d painted a target on my back when I stole a million euro from Dante Oscuro to fund Gio’s trafficking operation.

“Oscuro is going to find me, and then you’ll never get the million euro,” I answered.

I missed my family. I missed my neighborhood. I missed living in goddamned Yorkfield, where everyone spoke English, and I didn’t have to struggle in a second or third language to make myself understood. Life was easy here. I’d been fucking comfortable.

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