Page 102 of Say I Do

“I’m sorry…” Benito pretended as if he didn’t know her name.

Darla was unfazed and smiled. “Darla Shamers from the New—”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m a businessman trying to take my fiancé out on a nice lunch date. I can’t fathom the mafia fairytale you are so hard-pressed for me to star in. If you will excuse us.”

“I guess the other families will be taking over since you’re leaving everything behind. Who will run New York’s underground then? Are you risking a war? When will the killing stop, Mr. Vitale? When will your family own up to the destruction and heartache it has brought to New York?” Darla shouted.

She’d created a frenzy. The questions switched from how our engagement was going to how many people had Benito killed. Was he a mob boss?

We kept moving, Darla’s words becoming nothing more than background noise as we walked away from her. I kept my mouth shut as Benito smiled and waved to everyone. My ears popped the moment we stepped through the restaurant’s doors.

“Benito.”

“We’re going to eat, and then we’re going to figure out how in the fuck she knew any of that.”

It wasn’t as simple as a coincidence, not when she’d been popping up everywhere we went. And after finding out she had hired the photographer who’d captured Benito and me. I needed to read the files Quincy handed me more closely.

Maybe I should tell Benito about them. The thought came to me a few times, but there was no concrete evidence yet. Just a bunch of maybes. If I was going to hand over Darla’s source, I needed to find out who it was beforehand. There was no reason to bother Benito and add onto a pile of shit until then.

“Reservations?” the hostess asked.

“Vitale.”

Any outsider who looked at Benito wouldn’t be able to tell, but he was seconds away from murdering someone.

“Right this way,” the hostess said. She walked us over to the table where the clients we were there to meet hadn’t arrived.

Benito pulled out my seat, and I took it. Eyes were on us, but I was slowly getting used to it. Yes, I hated every second of it, but it wasn’t the worst thing to happen in life.

“What am I supposed to say to the wife again?” I remembered it perfectly, but Benito looked as if he needed something to take his mind off the trainwreck that was Darla Shamers.

“Hair, nails, stuff you’re into.”

“Benito, I will drive this fork into your thigh… again.”

He cracked a real smile. “Pretend to be interested in those things, of course. Although you do paint your nails.”

“Yeah, I mostly did it to piss my father off. But I fell in love with it.”

“You should go to the salon.”

“Oh, will you take me?” This was news.I thought Benito’s nails looked too pristine. “You go, don’t you?”

He glared at me, but it was missing any malice. It only made him look hot. “It’s beneficial to have clean nails.”

I nodded. “Mani and pedis, why haven’t you taken me on that kind of date? I’m not all about the messy kind of fun.”

Benito smirked at me. “But you look so pretty messy.”

My mouth opened, but words failed me. Benito pressed up on my chin as our waitress came over to the table. We ordered drinks as we waited.

“What time was the meeting?” I asked.

“They should have been here already.” Benito’s shoulders tensed with every passing second.

“Mr. Vitale.” A man in a dark blue suit came over to our table. Benito tensed even further.

The man fixed his metal-rimmed glasses. “I am Andrew Tatum. Mr. and Mrs. Bertrand, unfortunately, couldn’t be here today.” Andrew pulled out a chair across from us. His smile was thin and fake. “I do hope you understand, but based on some of the stories as of late about you, Mr. Bertrand can’t exactly go ahead with the contract. If you’re under scrutiny, so is your business. He doesn’t want any negativity.”

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