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B oyd

I don’t know why I’m taking her to dinner.

I could drop her off at the casino and call it a day. She overheard enough for me to say I did my job and did it well—for today at least. I’ve still got to babysit her until she goes home to keep her out of Massimo’s way. Keep her out of trouble.

So I’ll continue to entertain myself. It’s not like I have anything better to do. I need to eat, too. Eating with a pretty little thing like her across the table is better than dining alone. I do that enough.

“Where are you taking me?” Sarah inquires, more cheer in her voice than I’ve heard since I scared her.

“Since you don’t have any preferences, I’m taking you to my uncle’s place,” I reply. “Greek food.”

“Is that where your family is from?” she asks. “Greece?”

I rarely share much about myself, but there’s no harm. I’m sure she’s just trying to get me to open up, so I’ll feed her a few stories for her podcast. That’s fine. The quicker she gets what she wants, the quicker she’ll be on her way home.

“My dad was,” I answer. “Never really knew him. My uncle was born here. He took me in after the state decided my mom wasn’t fit to raise me. Don’t really know her either—not well, at least.”

“Same with my dad,” Sarah says. “My parents divorced when I was little because he got sent to prison. It’s just been my mom, me, and the boyfriend-of-the-month since then.”

“What did he do?” I ask. “Your old man.”

“He cheated on my mom with one of his students and got her pregnant,” she says apprehensively. “Then… he killed her.”

“Oh, shit.” My brow shoots up in surprise.

I’m no stranger to death, but I wasn’t expecting that.

“That’s how I got into true crime,” she sighs, taking a quick hit from her vape. “My mom always turned off the TV when I came into the room, but I would try to listen from my bedroom. I didn’t always understand what I was hearing, but I knew enough to understand it was my dad on trial for murder.”

“Damn, that’s rough when you’re a kid,” I say.

“Yeah,” she whispers, looking away.

The conversation dies off when we get to the restaurant. It’s not busy tonight, so I’m able to get a parking spot close to the door. It’s a fairly safe location, but I do a quick scan out of instinct when I get out of the car. Once I’m sure there is nothing to be wary of, I open her door.

“Wow, this place looks pretty fancy,” Sarah says, looking at the restaurant. “I felt underdressed for Rafferty’s, but I think I’ll look like a bum in here.”

“It’s not that fancy,” I rumble. “You’ll be fine.”

My uncle’s primary clientele is college students from Las Vegas University. The restaurant is within walking distance, the prices are fair, and he offers a discount with a student ID. All of that was my idea when I bankrolled the restaurant for him.

I lead Sarah inside and spot my uncle.

“Wait right here,” I say, motioning to a row of chairs where customers normally wait. “I’ll get us a table.”

Sneaking up on people isn’t usually possible, because of my size, but my uncle is busy yelling at two of his waitresses, so I’m able to walk up behind him without him noticing.

“Uncle Belen!” I roar. “Leave those poor girls alone and get me a table.”

My uncle spins around with a smile on his face. “Boyd, my boy!” He immediately glances back at the waitresses. “Don’t fuck up again. The customer is always right.”

“Y-yes, Mr. Sagona,” they reply, almost in unison, before scurrying away.

“Can’t get good help around here,” Uncle Belen says. “Fucking college kids don’t want to work for shit. Anyway, how’s my favorite nephew?”

“Your only nephew,” I mutter.

“Yeah, yeah. Semantics,” he laughs. “Table for one? I’ll put you over by the wine bar.”

“Table for two.” I jerk my thumb toward the hot little blonde waiting at the entrance. “I’m babysitting her for the boss.”

My uncle glances in Sarah’s direction, then raises a brow. “She looks a little old for a babysitter, Boyd,” he laughs. “She’s fucking gorgeous. She single? Any chance she likes old Greek men?”

“No fucking clue,” I smirk. “Run out of college girls that need a sugar daddy?”

“Never!” he laughs. “Want to see the pictures?”

“No,” I sigh. “Just a table.”

“Give me a few minutes,” he says, then he turns and yells at one of his waitresses.

I walk back over to Sarah. She’s typing away on her phone, but looks up when I approach.

Fucking gorgeous? Hard to argue with that.

She’s younger than the girls I normally go for, but I haven’t been with anyone in a while.

Being Erica’s bodyguard didn’t leave room for much else, and I’ve been too bitter since everything went to shit.

“We’ll have a table in a few minutes,” I say, glancing at her phone. “Already working on your notes, huh?”

“Yeah, I wanted to get a few things down while everything is still fresh,” she says. “I prefer my laptop, but this will do for now.”

“No names, right?” I question, giving her a stern look.

“No,” she says. “Just stories.”

“Good,” I mutter, then the waitress walks up beside us.

“If you’ll follow me, your table is ready,” she says in a singsong voice that sounds way too sugary sweet for my liking. “I’m Allison. I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

I follow the waitress with Sarah trailing behind me, still typing on her phone. I really hope she’s following instructions and not taking down anything that could get us both into trouble. I’ll definitely have to review her notes tomorrow and clean them up if there’s anything bothersome.

“Here you are,” Allison says, gesturing to a table. “Mr. Sagona said everything is on the house, so let me know when you’re ready to order. Can I start you off with some drinks?”

“I want a glass of the scotch my uncle keeps in his office,” I say, pointing in the general direction. “She likes fruity drinks, so let her try the Cherry Vyssinatha.” I turn my attention back to Sarah. “Unless you’d rather pick something from the menu.”

“Um,” Sarah replies, doing her adorable head tilt. “That sounds great. I like trying new drinks.”

“Coming right up!” Allison says, then she walks toward the bar.

“I’ve never had Greek food before,” Sarah says, picking up the menu and opening it. “Well, except for the salad. I really like the peppers they put in them. They’re so tangy!”

“Mm, pepperoncini peppers,” I say, nodding in agreement. “You might like the potato salad then. My uncle puts them in that, too.”

“That takes care of my side item…” Sarah flips through the menu. “What else is good?”

“Almost everything,” I explain. “But I’m partial to the gyros. My uncle makes them from scratch. A lot of Greek restaurants use the frozen stuff, and it’s never the same.”

“I’ll trust your expertise, Greek Boyd,” she says playfully.

“Just Boyd,” I growl. “I’m about as Greek as you are. I’ve never even been there and I sure as hell don’t speak the language.”

“So, anything other than Boyd is a boundary?” she questions, her pretty blue eyes flickering with amusement. “No Big Boyd. No Greek Boyd. I assume Vegas Boyd and Mafia Boyd are off limits too?”

“Boyd,” I repeat. “That’s my fucking name.”

The waitress arrives with our drinks and we’re ready to order, so I ramble off how I like my gyro. Sarah seems to like what she hears and asks for the same.

“Do you do that a lot?” I ask, glancing at her while I take a sip of scotch.

“What do you mean?” She raises her brow and tucks the straw between her lips. “Oh, that’s really good!”

“Thought you might like it,” I say. “I’m talking about ordering the same thing as the person you’re with. You ordered scotch when I did at Rafferty’s and just asked for the same gyro I did.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” she admits. “Honestly, I didn’t get much of a choice growing up.

We never ate out, and my mom made the same three casseroles over and over.

That was practically all I ever ate except for school lunches and whatever Lea’s grandmother made when I stayed over.

That woman could cook. I still miss her homemade pies. ”

“Maybe Lea can make one for you sometime.” I shrug and take another sip of my drink.

“Lea? In a kitchen?” Sarah laughs, and I love the way it sounds. “No, she can barely follow a recipe.”

“Good thing the boss has a butler,” I chuckle.

“What about you?” she asks. “Do you have a fancy mansion with your own personal Alfred?”

“No,” I grunt. “No mansion and I live alone.”

“Really?” Sarah tilts her head in the most adorable way yet again—I’m starting to like that way more than I should. “That has to be pretty lonely. You don’t have a girlfriend or anything?”

“I haven’t had time for that in a while,” I admit. “Used to date a showgirl, but it was never serious. I don’t mind being alone. Helps me focus on work.”

That’s not entirely true. I do get lonely sometimes, but I’ve made peace with it. I used to think I’d have a family one day—wife, kids, and all that. It just never worked out.

“If you don’t want to talk about this it’s okay, but what was it like being Erica’s bodyguard?” she asks. “I know you had no idea she was planning… what she was planning.”

“No fucking clue,” I say with a frown. “I’m loyal.

She knew that. It’s why she sent me on errands or asked Paulie to step in as her bodyguard when she was doing shady shit.

I’m not sure the boss believed my hands were totally clean.

Salvatore—not Massimo. I think Massimo understands I was just following orders. ”

“You didn’t have anything to do with it,” she says emphatically. “I saw how upset you were after it happened.”

“Did you?” I question. “I don’t remember seeing you until after Massimo and Lea got engaged.”

“I was at Salvatore’s house after they rescued Massimo and his brothers,” she says. “I was scared out of my damn mind, but I had to be there for Lea.”

“Guess it all worked out,” I rumble. “As for what it was like being Erica’s bodyguard. It was boring, mostly. Lots of shopping sprees and brunch dates with her friends. It never seemed like she spent much time with the kids, but that was her business. I was just there in case she needed me.”

“Did she ever need you?” she asks.

“Rarely,” I answer. “Most people take one look at me and know to back the fuck up.”

“Hmm, yeah.” She looks up at me, meeting my gaze. “I can’t imagine many people picking a fight with you by choice.”

“Not if they like keeping their head on their shoulders,” I say.

We talk for a little longer while Sarah tries to unpack me. I can see right through her. I know what she’s doing, even if she’s doing it in the most charming way possible.

Our food arrives and offers a momentary distraction from the conversation. I’m done with my drink, so I ask for another. Sarah is still nursing her Cherry Vyssinatha, but she seems to like it. She just doesn’t put them back like I do. It takes a lot for me to even feel a buzz, much less get drunk.

“Okay, I’m a gyro fan,” Sarah says with a smile. “And this potato salad is better than the one Lea’s grandmother used to make.”

“Glad you like it,” I grunt, chasing a bite of mine with a gulp of scotch.

“Tell me more about being Erica’s bodyguard,” she says. “If you don’t mind talking about it. I’m sure it wasn’t all shopping sprees and boring lunches.”

“Nah, there are a few stories I can tell you,” I sigh. “Maybe even some you can use on your podcast, if you’re vague enough.”

Sarah perks up and pays attention. I hate to admit I’m enjoying talking to her. That I’m loving every adorable thing she does. But this is business. A direct order from the man who now sits at the head of the table.

If she’s with me, she isn’t bothering the boss.

I’m just doing my job.