Page 62 of Empire of Seduction (New York State of Mafia #2)

Maggie

One year later

“How does it look?” I glanced at my brother for his opinion. “What do you think? Be honest.”

Mikey surveyed the transformed D’Agostino Speakeasy. I’d named this place—and our line of spirits—after Vito’s family, which my man had appreciated. Like, really appreciated. The night I told him would go down as one of our top five hottest encounters, no question.

Tonight, however, instead of our usual setup for a group, there was one lone table, two chairs, and string lights overhead, shining softly on the brick. Soft jazz played in the background.

Mikey nodded. “It looks nice. Romantic. Really, I don’t think you need to worry.”

But I was worried. This was a Big Deal. “I want everything to be perfect.”

“I’m aware. You won’t stop talking about how much you miss him.”

Vito had been in Italy for three weeks and this was his first night back. “I can’t help it.”

“Yeah, well,” Mikey went over and dimmed the lights a little. “I’ll be very glad when our vines mature and you have more to do.”

Unfortunately, that was at least three years away.

In the meantime, I kept busy. There was our vodka and gin production, as well as the speakeasy and dining room.

We still had fermenting wine to bottle and sell, so Bruce and I tasted and tinkered with our barrels as they aged.

I attended a wine conference three months ago and met other vignerons.

And I was taking classes at Cornell, in their viticulture program.

So, yeah. Other than not seeing Vito enough, things were going great.

I went over to the mirror on the wall to check my hair. Glancing in the reflection, I tugged on the neckline of my dress. It hadn’t looked this low-cut in the store. But now my boobs, such as they were, practically popped out of this dress.

“You look nice, stop fidgeting,” Mikey said.

“Thanks.” I smoothed my freshly waxed eyebrows. Other places were freshly waxed, too. “How’s Massimo doing?”

“Not sure our new chef is thrilled about having Maz in there, taking over for a night, but Maz is overseeing the meal, just as you requested.” Mikey leaned against the bar. “Though I’m not sure why you had to fly Vito’s brother in from Rome to cook one meal.”

I couldn’t tell Mikey why. “I thought it might make a nice surprise for Vito.”

“Whatever.” My brother checked his phone. “You have about thirty minutes before he’s due to arrive. Want to come back upstairs?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll hang out down here and have a drink. Just send him down when gets here.”

“When do you want sparkling wine? After dessert, right?”

“Yep. Thanks for all your help.”

Mikey disappeared into the corridor and left the cellar. I went behind the bar and made myself a Greyhound. For old time’s sake. Then I sat at the bar and read on my phone, sipping my drink and waiting calmly for the love of my life to arrive.

Twenty-two minutes later, the metal door at the top of the stairs slammed shut.

Not long after, leather shoes slapped against the old stone, louder as he approached.

I didn’t turn around, even when it was clear he’d entered the room.

My skin tingled with anticipation, every nerve attuned to this man. It was like our souls were intertwined.

His breath warmed my neck a fraction of a second before I felt his lips there. “ Amore, mi sei mancata tantissimo. ”

He said these words so often to me that I knew them by heart. Baby, I’ve missed you so much.

I shivered as he kissed the sensitive skin. “Hey, baby. How was your flight?”

“Long.” Strong fingers wrapped around my neck and angled my face toward his, where he caught my mouth in a brutal kiss. “Fuck, I needed that,” he whispered when we parted.

So did I. Grabbing his hand, I pulled him closer to the stool next to me on the bar. “Sit down and have a drink with me.”

He didn’t argue. Shrugging out of his overcoat, he lowered himself onto the stool. I immediately stood up and started for the other side of the bar. “What are we drinking?” he asked.

I hid the label from him as I poured his drink. “Here.” I slid the amber liquid across to him. “Let me buy you a drink.”

The edge of his mouth curled. “That sounds familiar.” He lifted his glass and waited until I’d done the same, then he touched them together. “Cin cin.”

“Cin cin,” I repeated, then we both sipped. His eyes widened.

“Is this the same one? The drink from the night we met?”

“It is indeed.”

He lifted his chin in the direction of my glass. “You are drinking a Greyhound, no?”

“I suppose I am.” I could barely contain my smirk.

“Are you hoping to get fucked against a glass window tonight, angioletto mio? Is that it?”

A bolt of heat flashed through me and settled between my legs. “Maybe.”

“Come. Sit next to me and flirt. I will consider it.”

I edged around the bar and perched onto the stool next to his. “Hi, stranger.”

“Ciao, bella.” He smoothed his palm over my thigh, though his eyes were locked on my nipples. “This dress is new. I like it. You look very sexy in it.”

“Grazie, baby.” I smoothed his perfect tie. Watching Vito put on a tie was a not-to-be-missed experience in the mornings. “I like this suit.”

After he sipped his drink, he propped an arm on the bar. “Gianna’s design. I was overdue to order some new ones.”

The door slammed and Vito raised a questioning eyebrow at me. “Dinner,” I told him. “Let’s sit down.”

He helped me out of my chair, then led me to the table. “This is romantic,” he said, holding my seat out. “I should leave for Italia more often if this is my homecoming.”

“Don’t you dare.” I was dead serious. “I hate when you’re gone this long.”

As he sat, he picked up my hand off the table and kissed it. “I don’t like it either, amore mio.”

The server brought our first course. As we ate, Vito caught me up on his trip and I told him about the winery and my classes. When the meat course arrived, Vito’s eyes went wide. “This is one of my favorites,” he said. “I haven’t had it in ages. My brother used to make it on the yacht.”

As if I didn’t know.

“Well, we’ll have to see if this chicken piccata is as good as your brother’s.” To the server, I winked, then she smiled and left.

Vito groaned as he chewed. “Fuck me, this tastes just like Massimo’s.”

“Oh, good. I’ll be sure to tell the chef that you approve.”

“Approve? You should double their salary to ensure they never leave.”

I could never afford Massimo, not since he’d opened his own place in Rome. They were well on their way to getting a Michelin star, from what Vito said.

Our plates were cleared and dessert soon followed. My palms were sweating as Vito pushed his tiramisu toward me. “You have it, amore. I’m full and I know how you love it.”

I wiped my damp hands on my napkin. “You should eat it,” I urged. “I’m going to give you a serious workout later.”

His expression turned wolfish as he leered at me. “And I will have plenty to eat then.”

My pussy clenched, eagerly anticipating the instant it could get reacquainted with his tongue. I tried to sound nonchalant. “Seriously, baby. Eat.”

“Will this make you happy?”

This was something he asked often, like he was gauging the risk/reward probability. “Very.”

He picked up his fork and cut a large bite. Then he slipped the dessert into his mouth. Because I had zero chill, I couldn’t help but watch.

His teeth clanked on metal and he froze. Then his eyes narrowed in confusion. I held my breath as he reached and spit the metal into his napkin. “Che cazzo?” he said and put the napkin on the table. “Is your chef trying to kill one of us?”

“What was that?” I gestured to the napkin.

“I don’t know,” he snarled and touched his tongue to one of his back molars. “Fuck. I hope I didn’t crack a tooth.”

“But aren’t you curious? Maybe you should look.”

So that I couldn’t see it, he unfolded the napkin below the table. Total class move. My man might be a murderer, but he had table manners.

I saw the instant he realized. He jolted in his chair, his stare locked on what was in his hand. Was he even breathing? The sweat under my armpits compounded and I nibbled on my thumbnail as I awaited a reaction. Would he hate it?

Slowly, he lifted the round gold circle up to his face. “Is this . . . ?”

Reaching out, I plucked the wedding band from his fingers. Legs shaking, I got down on one knee. The floor was stone, so I did my best. God, this was awkward. How did men do this all the time?

“Vito D’Agostino, it’s time I made an honest man out of you.

Ish.” I laughed nervously at my dumb joke.

When he didn’t crack a smile, I sobered.

“I don’t want to spend so much time apart.

I’m ready to build a life with you, whatever that looks like.

I love you and I want to marry you. And I’m hoping you want to marry me, too. ”

He blinked twice. “You know I do. I’ve raised the subject no fewer than a dozen times.”

“I know, but I thought I would officially ask.”

In one quick motion, he pushed his chair back, stood, and pulled me to my feet. Then he was kissing me again, but these were gentle kisses. The kind that replaced words when you couldn’t think of what to say and you could only feel .

Finally, he rested his forehead against mine. “Sì, amore. I want to marry you.”

“Thank god,” I panted and held up the ring. “Here. Read the inscription.”

He took the band from my fingers and put it near the light, turning it as he read. “ This is the real one. ” Then he threw back his head and laughed. “Tu sei perfetta, mia diavoletta.”

“I know. You’re very lucky to have me.”

“Yes, I am.”

Just as his mouth lowered to mine, the upstairs door clanged shut. Vito paused, just millimeters from my face. “Shouldn’t they leave us alone to celebrate?”

“Wait,” I said, resting my palm on his chest. “One last surprise.”

Massimo came around the corner, a bottle of sparkling wine in one hand and three glasses in the other. “ Congratulazioni! ” he said loudly.

Vito eased back, but wrapped one arm around my waist. The two brothers kissed cheeks. “I should have known,” my man said. “No one makes chicken piccata like you.”

Massimo slapped Vito on the back—and I caught Mikey, Bruce and Celeste coming around the corner. Then Val and Sam emerged. Now it was my turn to be surprised. “Oh, my god! What are you all doing here?”

“We couldn’t let this go by without celebrating,” my brother said.

“But what if he’d said no.” I kissed Val’s cheek, then Sam’s.

When I finished my brother hugged me. “There was no chance of that.”

“Yeah,” Val added. “He’s literally been asking you for months.”

“He’s been hinting for months,” I said. “There was no official ask, FYI.”

Vito squinted at me. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a white box. A ring box. I covered my mouth and gawked at him. “Is that . . . ? Have you been carrying that around? Or did you know?”

Carefully, he lowered to one knee. “Maybe I planned to propose tonight.”

I cast a quick glance at Mikey and Massimo. “Did you tell him?”

“No!” my brother said, while Maz shook his head.

Clasping my hands under my chin, I watched as Vito peeled open the ring box. A flash of brilliant fire caught my eye before I returned to his serious gaze. “Margaret Anne Fiorentino, I love you more than my own life. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes, Vittore D’Agostino, I will marry you.”

Everyone cheered, and then I was in Vito’s arms, kissing him through my smile.

Mikey went behind the bar to get more glasses and soon we were all toasting.

Vito and I put our rings on and then held them up to admire them.

I kissed his cheek, my body nestled firmly into his side.

“You’re never allowed to take that one off,” I whispered.

“I want every woman who sees you to know you’re taken. ”

“The same goes for yours,” he murmured. “No more picking up strange men in casino bars.”

“The only man I have any interest in picking up is you, amore.”

Vito handed Massimo his flute, then bent down and quickly hefted me over his shoulder. “Ciao, amici,” he told the room. “We have a date with a glass window.”

Thank you for reading