Chapter 115

“This restaurant is… fancy,” I whispered to Alex, looking around. The place was enormous, atop a sixty-story building overlooking the city. Cream modern wallpaper, glass chandeliers, and Versace-branded cutlery adorned the space. It was surprisingly empty.

“Why are you whispering?” he asked.

I leaned back in my chair. “Why is the place empty?”

He set down the menu, raising an eyebrow as if offended. “You didn’t think I’d dine with other people?”

My lips parted in a gasp. “You booked the entire place?!”

“Yes,” he replied casually. “I like privacy.”

“This much privacy?”

“What if I feel like bending you over in the middle of dinner and eating you instead?” His lazy smirk lingered on his lips, but I cautiously glanced at his guards, standing a mere ten feet away.

“They can hear us!”

“They work for me, not the other way around.”

I frowned. “Can’t you… dismiss them for the night?”

“And what do I do, pray tell, if we’re attacked?”

“I thought you’re this bad-ass guy who can take on an army by yourself,” I teased.

“Realistically, I can take on ten men while also protecting you. What if there are… a hundred of them?”

I gulped. “Someone would send a hundred men to attack you?”

“Someone might,” he said, sipping his wine. “You greatly underestimate my position in the Mafia, Mia.”

“Why?” I asked. The waiter interrupted, taking our orders. I ordered a cocktail while Alex enjoyed the most expensive wine money could buy.

“You were saying?” he asked after the waiter left.

“Yeah, I asked, why?” I repeated. “Why did you choose this life?”

“Why not?”

“It’s dangerous and exhausting; I can’t imagine what it’s like to not go out by yourself.”

“You better get used to it,” he replied plainly. “That’s how my life is, and by extension, so is yours.”

Chapter 115 (continued)

I gulped, staring into his eyes across the table. Our eye contact broke when his phone buzzed. He looked annoyed, silenced it, and handed it to Dom, who quickly retrieved it and returned to his post.

“Are they going to watch us eat?” I whispered.

He nodded.

“Can we invite them to eat with us?”

My suggestion made him look at me as if I were mad. “Do I look like I’m throwing a dinner party for fifty?”

My mouth opened and closed. “I don’t like them watching us eat.”

“Easy fix.” He looked smug. Before I could ask what he was thinking, he addressed his guards: “Turn your backs to us. Every single one of you.”

My jaw dropped. “Alex!”

“What? They’re not looking at us eat anymore.”

“You… you…” I huffed, speechless.

He smiled proudly.

I shook my head at him, and then dinner arrived. We ate and chatted, and for a while, I forgot about the guards. I told him about my high school experience, and he shared his. I was the nerd, the introvert, the loner who liked to play football. He was the popular kid, the troublemaker, the lacrosse team captain. For a while, I forgot he was in the Mafia. He was their brains, their strategist. For a while, he was just Alex, and I was just Mia, and everything was perfect.

After dinner, he took me on a long drive across the bridge and even let me play music, talking to me about my favorite songs.

“You never told me why you chose this life,” I asked as we drove home, it being just the two of us. “I mean, you have such a wonderful family. Why did you join the Mafia?”

“There’s a certain thrill in…”

“In?”

“Taking a life.”

My eyes widened, and he smirked.

“I’m joking,” he added. “I didn’t like the mundane. I wanted more. So I chose more. Thrill. Adventure. Mind games. Strategies. A world with no morals? I signed myself up for it.”

“It’s so dangerous.”

“And exhausting,” he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you mentioned that a few times.”

“Don’t you always have to look over your shoulder?”

Chapter 15 (continued)

“It’s second nature to me, Mia. I’m always alert and observing.”

“Are you?” I leaned back in the passenger seat, hugging myself and looking at him closely. So humane. So touchable. So real.

“Mh-hm.”

“What have you noticed about me then?”

One corner of his lip turned up. “Your breath gets shaky when you’re conscious of lying or are aroused. Your eyes twitch when you lie. Your nose flares when you’re angry, and you usually end up with tears in your eyes. Death is a sensitive topic for you. You fluster easily when embarrassed, which is often. Baking isn’t a hobby; it’s an escape. You’re not a big music lover—your choices are mostly mainstream and cliché.

“Okay, stop,” I chuckled nervously.

“No, I can go on. You hate eye contact; it makes you squirm. You only watch rom-coms, and I assume you’ve either never had a fulfilling love or experienced too many tragedies. Your favorite color is black. Very boring, by the way, Mia. You say you didn’t have time to date because you were so busy, but the fancy restaurant dishes didn’t intimidate you. You knew what you didn’t like—including caviar—and you knew what you wanted. Either you’re confident or familiar, and I think it’s the latter.”

“Okay, stop, seriously.” I chuckled, though tears glistened in my eyes, and I didn’t know why.

He glanced my way. “Observing enough?”

“Very,” I muttered, inhaling deeply before facing him again. “I had a friend; her family took me in for a while. They were wealthy, and that’s how I know proper etiquette. That’s also when my dislike of caviar began.”

“Mh-hm.” He hummed in response, and I wasn’t sure if he believed me.

Nobody had ever noticed me. I always lived in the shadows. Nobody cared for me, nobody bothered to help when I was spiraling into depression or struggling to make ends meet. And here this guy was. He’d even noticed my eye twitching.

I stared at him, feeling an emotion I didn’t understand. “Do you notice everyone this much?”

“Some more than others.”

“My favorite color is blue,” I told him. “Black is a close second.”

A ghost of a smile played on his lips.

“What’s yours?” I added.

“Grey.”

“Grey?” I repeated, surprised. “That’s so… boring. Why is your favorite color grey?”

“That’s for me to know, and you to never find out.”

I pouted. “Mean.”

“I’ve done meaner things than deny an answer,” he replied smugly. “You’ll survive.”

Chapter 15 (continued)

The car pulled into the gates of his house, and just like that, my escape from reality was over. “Rom-coms are fun, you know,” I told him as we walked inside.

“They’re corny.”

“How do you know if you’ve never watched one?” I teased.

“I never said I hadn’t watched them. Only that I harbor a dislike.”

A smile touched my lips. “Can we watch one?”

“Absolutely not!” He refused as if my suggestion was blasphemous.

“Please,” I pleaded. “I was promised a date.”

“And I did take you out on one.” He gave me a pointed look. “Didn’t you have fun?”

“I did, but a movie would be the perfect ending. Please?” I practically begged.

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath. “Okay,” he finally answered. “If I get bored in fifteen minutes, we switch it off, and you let me eat you.”

I grinned. “Deal.”

My mind raced with movie options, before Dominic barged in.

“Sir, you have company,” he said, breathless, his eyes flickering to me. “He said he wanted to see you and wouldn’t stop, not even when the guard pointed a gun at his head.”

Alex didn’t ask who it was. “Mia, go to your room,” he instructed without looking at me.

My eyes flickered between the two men.

“Mia,” he seethed, his tone sending a cold shiver through me. “Now.”

I nodded, but I had barely taken a step when a man entered the living room, looking enraged, his blonde hair a mess, his eyes searching for—I assumed—Alex, but they landed on me instead.

I froze.

He tilted his head, a psychotic smirk playing on his lips.

“Xander,” Alex greeted coldly, stepping in front of me, ensuring I was hidden behind him.