Page 17 of The Don

I look to his offered arm again. “Why are you so kind to me?” Although I hesitate, I still link my arm through his. Ruben leads me into the dining room where there is a place setting already on the massive table. “You’re not eating?”

“I ate when I woke.”

He didn’t answer the question. He pulls the chair out and waits until I sit before he takes his spot at the head of the table. “Why are you so kind to me, Ruben?” I repeat.

Maria enters the opulent dining room carrying a large silver tray. “Miss Eliza, I hope you’re hungry?” She smiles at me proudly when she places the silver tray on the table and begins to offload the numerous plates. Everything from frittata, to bacon, to pancakes, even Italian donuts. “Cappuccino, Miss Eliza?”

“I’ll take one, Maria,” Ruben says.

“Si, signore.” She smiles at Ruben, then returns her attention to me, waiting for my reply.

“Yes, thank you very much, Maria.”

“If you no like what I made, I can make something else.” She glances at the buffet of food, then looks to me, eagerly awaiting my reply. Maria’s English is heavily accented by her Italian heritage, but she’s still easy to understand.

“This is perfect, thank you.” A wave of heat rushes through my body. I sit on my hands to stop them shaking.

“Thank you, Maria,” Ruben says, giving her the verbal cue to leave. He looks toward me with a smile. “Are you okay?”

“This is too much.” I look at all the food.

“I’ll tell Maria.”

“No!” I exclaim. “Please, don’t do that. It’ll hurt her feelings.” I look to the food and my stomach roils as a fine coating of sweat gathers at my hairline. “I’m not used to this.”

“When you’re in my home you’re to be cherished. I would think Dominic is the same.”

I lower my chin and stare at my empty plate. “You’ve both been too kind to me. More than I deserve,” I say in a small voice.

Ruben’s chair scrapes back, and before I know it, he’s standing beside me. He reaches out and grips my chin possessively. He tilts my head up so I’m looking into his nearly black eyes. “You’re my—” He clears his throat and lifts his chin. “You’re a queen, and don’t ever forget it.” Ruben’s thumb darts out to lightly skim my bottom lip before forcing me to take a sharp breath. “You deserve everything I can give you.”

I gulp as I stare at him. My pulse quickens and my heart flutters. Ruben pulls back, though he doesn’t break eye contact with me. My mind blanks and I can’t seem to find any words.

Someone clears their throat and l peer over to Maria. “Caffe?” She places my cappuccino down as Ruben returns to his seat. “Signore.” Maria hands Ruben his coffee.

“Thank you,” I whisper as I look down at the real chocolate shavings on top.

The room is heavy in stifling silence once Maria returns to the kitchen. “My apologies, Amorina, I lost my control for a moment.” I still can’t bring myself to look at him or even say anything. “Please eat before the food is cold.”

Storm’s wet nose nudges me, and I look to find him standing by my side. I was lost in the moment and didn’t hear or see him return. I lower my hand to rest on his head while my fingertips play with his fur. My heart is beating so quickly it feels like it’s about to bounce up through my throat and out of my mouth.

I should be afraid of the way Ruben touched me, but, I’m not. His hand wasn’t tensed with hatred, it was gentle and soothing. “I have work to do,” he says with a slight quiver to his voice.

Ruben takes his coffee and leaves the dining room. Storm nudges me again, forcing me to give him my attention. “I’m okay,” I say to Storm as if he understands what I’m saying.

I take a moment to sit in the quiet and calm the frantic voice in my head. Thankfully, Storm continues to poke me with his snout, reminding me that Ruben is nothing like Adrian. Not even a little.

“Signore has left?” Maria asks.

“Yes, he has.” I offer her a small smile as I take a piece of frittata off the plate and slide it onto mine. “This is all beautiful.”

She pulls the chair out beside me and sits. “Do you have any special dietary wants or needs?” Maria leans an elbow onto the table and looks to me with the biggest brown eyes. Although she’s considerably older, her skin is clear and she doesn’t have a lot of wrinkles. I hope to look half as good as she does when I’m her age.

“I’m not allergic to anything, but I don’t have a very big appetite either.”

She looks at all the food on the table. “Do you not like anything? So I know not to cook it.”

Adrian was cruel in many ways, including withholding food from me, then forcing me to eat things I didn’t like only so he and his men could laugh at me. “I’m kind of a plain food girl. All this is perfect, but I don’t eat offal.” I feel so horrible for admitting that.

---