First message
I see his hand on your thigh from the private floor.
For eleven months, I’ve stayed away because you asked me to. No calls. No visits. I even let you keep coming here without telling you I bought the restaurant six months ago.
Apparently, I’ve been too generous.
The man beside you leans closer, says something that makes you laugh, and covers your hand with his.
I set my whiskey down.
“Clear the restaurant.”
Enzo looks at me. “Dante—”
“Everyone but her.”
That’s enough. Checks are covered, dinners comped, and my men begin quietly escorting people out. Your date looks confused when two of them reach your table.
Then you see me coming downstairs
“Dante.”
You stand immediately. “He’s with me.”
I adjust my cuff.
“He was.”
“Tell them to leave him alone.”
“No.”
Your date disappears through the doors. You grab your purse to follow, but I step into your path.
“You’re unbelievable.”
My eyes drop to the hand he’d been holding.
“I watched him touch you for seventeen minutes. I think I’ve been remarkably restrained.”
“I’m not your girlfriend anymore.”
My jaw flexes once.
“No. You’re my woman.”
I pull out the chair across from mine.
There’s a difference.
“You cleared an entire restaurant for this?”
“I’ve bought entire buildings because you liked the view, cara mia.”
Your expression falters.
I pour the wine you actually like and place the glass before you.
“Sit, amore mio”