Page 65 of Ruthless God

He pulled up to a small restaurant on the corner of a busy street bustling with tourists. I looked over at the building. The glass windows were a shiny onyx color that reflected the outside and showed nothing of the inside. The roof was slanted to the left. The restaurant was wider than it was tall. In front, a valet stand housed two men wearing dark-blue suits despite the heat.

They came up to my side of the car and opened it for me.

“Ma’am,” a man about my age greeted with a smile, showing off a straight row of white teeth. He held out his hand for me. I was about to take it when Massimo moved smoothly over, taking the man’s place.

“I got her,” he said. I watched as the valet man nodded and gave us room. Massimo held out his hand for me. Slowly, Iplaced mine in his, feeling the warm, dry skin that encompassed my hand just as he pulled me out of the car.

The roughness of his palm brought back the memory of him touching me like this not so long ago in a much more intimate way. Butterflies fluttered over my insides as he pulled me close to his side.

He pressed his lips against my temple, whispering softly, “Don’t let other men touch you.”

I stuttered in my steps in surprise at his words, my eyes moving over to green ones. He pulled me closer to him to steady me.

“He didn’t mean anything by it,” I muttered.

“Still. I don’t want other men to touch what’s mine, and you, little darling wife, are mine in every irrevocable way possible.”

He sounded so possessive when he spoke, I didn’t know what to make of it. Even Andre never sounded this possessive over Mom.

I couldn’t decide whether this possessiveness would keep me safe from all the other monsters in this world or ruin me.

We got inside the restaurant before I could respond. It wasn’t as busy as I thought, but it was busy enough. It seemed everyone stopped what they were doing for a glimpse of Massimo. And I didn’t blame them.

There was something so intimidating and fascinating about his very presence, putting anyone nearby in a chokehold, that they just didn’t know what to do with themselves.

The hostess came up to us right away, her glinting eyes and flushing cheeks a familiar sight only because I recognized the look on my own face. It was the same face I wore when I looked at Massimo. Equal parts fear and admiration.

And how I hated the sight of another woman looking at my husband that way.

My hand clenched around Massimo’s just as the hostess said, “Mr. De Luca. Welcome back. How many for your party?”

Massimo shot me a look, and I forced my grip to relax. Would it be childish of me to let go of his hand? My muscles flexed from the thought as Massimo answered the pretty hostess.

“Just for two.”

The hostess finally turned her eyes to me, a strange look crossing her face before she plastered on a fake smile.

“Right this way.”

It was obvious Massimo frequented the place often and was probably an important guest to them, considering the hostess took us to our seats right away, located in a little alcove in the back. It created a nice illusion of privacy, even as I felt eyes on us the entire way there.

“Your waitress will be with you soon,” the hostess said, lingering a bit as her eyes practically ate up Massimo’s huge frame before she walked away.

Massimo pulled a chair out for me. I sat without a word, bringing my gaze down to the cream-colored menu as Massimo took a seat across from me at the small round table.

I could feel his eyes on me. I pretended not to notice.

“What’s wrong?” Massimo asked.

“Nothing,” I answered, wincing slightly at the petulance in my voice.

Massimo didn’t say anything right away. Then, “Will you look at me? Please?”

Slowly, I turned my gaze to him. His face held the same expressionless feature. Why couldn’t I be like that? I thought I was better at hiding my emotions than this, and I swore I had been back in Chicago.

What was he doing to me?

“What’s wrong?” he asked again. Before I could answer, he said, “And before you saynothing, just know I don’t like being lied to.”