We were shown to our table, and Vincent pulled out my chair for me and I settled into my seat. “You have a lot of friends, it seems,” I said, once he was sitting across from me.
“You’re not the only one with a fondness for Asian food—don’t tell my father.” Vincent smiled at me, a light and teasing smile that was nothing like the smirks he’d given me before. It softened his face a little and I found I liked it. “He’s a die-hard Italian. Nothing will ever be as good as his Nona’s pomodoro sauce.”
I found myself smiling back. Pull yourself together, girl. “You know a lot about me too,” I said. “And you found it out quite quickly. Just like you got this reservation quite quickly.”
Vincent tilted his head in acknowledgment. There was something both casual and dangerous about him, and I honestly couldn’t tell which was drawing me to him more.
I shouldn’t be drawn to him at all. I should be wary of this attraction. But I couldn’t help but feel… intrigued. Curious. Pulled in like a magnet.
“I’m a resourceful man,” Vincent replied. “And a well-connected one. Both valuable things if you want justice for your brother.”
The server approached us with the wine menu. My mouth watered in anticipation. Masa, like many higher-class restaurants, did a tasting menu where the chef decided for you what you were going to eat. I was practically drooling in excitement.
I was also well aware that this dinner, not including wine, cost about six hundred a person. This was the kind of money Dmitri would’ve been happy to spend, but he spent it like water, reckless, not calculated the way Vincent was.
“Red or white?” Vincent asked.
“Oh. Red.” I was surprised that he was asking. Most mafia men I knew had an alpha complex and I was sure Vincent was no different, but those men didn’t ever bother to ask for your opinion. They weren’t conscientious of our needs.
Vincent looked at the server. “What would you recommend? We’re not looking for anything too strong.”
The other man made his recommendation, and Vincent agreed with a nod. “That sounds good. Thank you.”
Once our wine was brought to us and the waiter left us alone again, I asked the question that had been swirling in my mind since last night. “So, how would this. . . arrangement work? What would you expect from me?”
Vincent didn’t even pretend to think about it. He was prepared, just like I was. This wasn’t just a date. It was a contract negotiation.
“As my wife, you would be a member of the community, preferably charities, although which charities and how exactly you wanted to do that would be up to you. Some women prefer to work in a more hands-on way, volunteering, running local community centers… others like to host parties to raise money, fundraise, that sort of thing.”
I nodded. Mom didn’t do that sort of thing, but we weren’t high profile like the Russo’s.
“We’ll live together, of course,” he went on. “I can arrange for us to get a bigger place if you feel my apartment isn’t appropriate. You might want an extra room of your own outside of our master suite. I don’t know what your hobbies are.”
“Oh, you don’t?” I asked lightly, tilting my head.
Vincent gave me a look like he wanted to put me over his knee and my breath caught, heat flooding through me. I had never responded so strongly to someone like this and it was disconcerting to me how badly I wanted to explore this attraction.
“I’m good, but I don’t know everything about you. That’s not possible through research and surveillance and definitely not in a day.” Vincent smirked, confident, like a wolf scenting a deer.
It really shouldn’t make me melt inside. Outwardly, I bristled.
Vincent seemed amused by my attitude. Like I wasn’t throwing anything at him that he couldn’t handle. “Point is, our spaces will be the same so if you want to change anything, we can talk about it. You want a grand piano, not a problem. You want to repaint the walls, we’ll chat.”
Our food was served, and for a second I completely forgot about Vincent. I had always dreamed about eating at this place, sushi served by a true master chef. Short of going to Japan, this was the best I would ever get.
I took the food we were offered and popped it into my mouth, a moan escaping me. It was so good. I’d never had so many flavors working harmoniously in my mouth like this. It was perfection.
When I finished it off with a generous sip of my wine, I realized that Vincent was looking at me. No, staring. His eyes, already dark, looked like two black holes as they bore into me. His lips were slick, like he’d just licked them, and there was a look of hunger on his face that had lightning shooting down my spine.
My skin felt too hot, too small. He looked like—like he wanted to devour me. And I suddenly thought—that I wanted him to.
“What do you expect between you and I, intimately,” I asked, as our next round of the tasting menu was brought to us.
“We’ll discuss that later.” Vincent’s voice was a purr. “Enjoy the meal.”
I knew in that moment that Vincent didn’t care as much about the food—he cared more about watching me enjoy it.
Part of me wanted to be stubborn. To eat my meal in silence with a blank face. But God, the food was just so good. I couldn’t keep myself from making noises of appreciation with each new bite I took. I felt like I was melting into my chair as I sampled the most delicious, exquisite food I’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing.
The wine was perfect too. Honestly, everything was perfect. This was like a dream date. The kind I’d foolishly hoped to find when I left the mafia life.
That would never happen now, I reminded myself. Instead I was going to be with exactly the kind of man that I’d always warned myself to never fall for.
Not that I was falling for him. I’d known him for less than twenty-four hours. That would be ridiculous. But I was attracted to him, and that seemed just as dangerous.
By the time we finished our meal, I was feeling pleasantly full, with a subtle buzz in my body from the alcohol. I hadn’t had a nice meal at a pleasant restaurant in ages, and I’d certainly never had a meal as amazing as this one. This was going to stick in my mind for the rest of my life.
Vincent smiled at me. It was… dare I say fond? “Enjoyable?”
“Very,” I admitted. “Probably the best meal I’ve had in my life.”
Vincent nodded, looking satisfied, but not in a smug way. It was in a quiet kind of way that I found I liked. It was the satisfaction of a job well done.
He paid, of course, and even wrote the server a little thank you note on the check. “They don’t accept tips or any kind of gratuity here,” he explained. “Following Japanese hospitality custom.”
Then he stood and offered me his arm. “Shall we walk off the meal and finish our talk?”
Our talk. Oh my God, like an idiot in all the course of the meal I’d forgotten what the purpose of this whole thing was. This wasn’t a date, and I’d asked him about the intimate aspect of our marriage.
I took his arm and allowed him to walk me out. “There’s one thing I’d like to address. Heirs. You’ll need them. Are you expecting… I mean…”