Page 5 of Unrelenting (Ruthless Temptations #1)

I glare at Olivia, hating that she might be right. Perhaps the man isn’t entirely loyal to Lucia. I consider calling Stefan back to try to tempt him.

“Don’t do it.” Olivia reads my mind. “She won’t thank you for playing with her staff.”

Before I can respond, the kitchen door flies open with such force everyone turns to see what’s happening.

Lucia storms out, carrying a platter of steak, and makes a beeline for our table. Anger emanates from every pore as she sets the plate down with a clatter and glares at Olivia.

Angelina follows a moment later with the potatoes and spinach I ordered. She puts them on the table and beats a hasty retreat. Sensible girl.

“Signore Volante.” Lucia spits out my name. “It’s a pleasure to have you and your companion in the restaurant tonight.”

My eyes widen at the vitriol in her voice. This is an unexpected, but not unwelcome, development. My little kitten is seething with jealousy.

“Thank you,” I reply placidly. “My companion and I are looking forward to our meal.”

Lucia’s jaw clenches so hard I fear she’ll break a tooth. I grin, enjoying her reaction immensely.

By the time I dropped her off at her apartment on Thursday night, her manner toward me was distinctly cool.

She didn’t argue with me about having someone to protect her, but I could tell she wasn’t happy with my decision.

She didn’t make plans to see me again, and her goodbye was definitely supposed to sound final.

Now, seeing me with another woman, she’s struggling to contain the anger inside her.

When I don’t introduce Olivia, my cousin rolls her eyes at me. She thrusts a hand toward Lucia, who’s too startled to do anything but take it.

“Hi, I’m Olivia Volante, Lorenzo’s cousin from New York.”

Lucia relaxes visibly and switches to flawless English. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Olivia. I’m Lucia. This is my restaurant.”

I remember reading in the dossier Damiano compiled on Lucia that she spent time in England. I must ask her about it when I get the chance.

“Your restaurant is lovely,” Olivia says. “And the food smells divine. Lorenzo has raved about it non-stop. Apparently, I won’t find a better steak in all of Italy.”

Lucia smiles, her delight obvious. Who knew diplomacy was one of Olivia’s skills?

“I hope you enjoy it.” Lucia flashes me a look that promises retribution for my not clarifying who Olivia is to me. I’d love to see my gattina try to make me sorry. As she spins on her heel and returns to the kitchen, my cousin tuts at me.

“Don’t play games with her staff and don’t play games with her, Lorenzo.”

“What?” I feign innocence.

“You knew the conclusion she would draw when she saw you with me.”

I help myself to a couple of slices of the perfectly cooked steak and then, as an afterthought, put some on Olivia’s plate as well.

“I told Angelina not to let her know I was here.”

“Right,” Olivia says skeptically, “and you really didn’t expect her to run straight to her boss to tell her you were here with a beautiful woman.”

I raise my glass to Olivia. “To my cousin, Olivia, who bears no false modesty.”

“Oh, shut up, Lorenzo.” She flips her hair over her shoulder. “I know men think I’m stunning, just like you know women cream their panties over your pretty face.” She shudders as she realises what she just said. “The point is, you brought me here to get a rise out of your girl, sorry, lady friend.”

Olivia is correct, of course. I did bring her here to stir things up with Lucia.

It was a childish thing to do, but I don’t regret it, not now I know Lucia isn’t as indifferent to me as she likes to pretend.

It’s not something I want to discuss with Olivia, though.

“Just eat your dinner.” I jab a fork toward her plate.

She pouts again, but does as she’s told, picking up her knife and fork and slicing off a piece of the steak. She puts it in her mouth and groans appreciatively.

“You’re right. It is good.”

“Glad you like it. Now, tell me why you’re so upset about Piotr Reznov being in town.”

She’s put me on the spot tonight, and now it’s her turn. Her reaction to Piotr showing up at Damiano’s house was to stomp around and yell for an hour, according to my brother.

I want to know what that was about. Though Piotr is my friend, I’ll still kick his ass if he’s done something to hurt Olivia.

Thankfully, as she talks about him, it becomes apparent that it’s his mere existence she’s angry about. It’s a case of the lady protesting too much.

The more she rants about him daring to come to Florence to propose marriage, the more convinced I am she secretly wants his attention.

In fact, by the time we’ve finished our meal. I already know I’m going to have to pick out a suit for their wedding. Fuck. I hate formalwear.

When Olivia goes to the bathroom, I pay the check and message Bruno to tell him he’ll be driving her back to Damiano’s tonight instead of taking Olivia home.

He replies to let me know he’s already in the parking lot out back. He’s obviously taking his duties seriously as the restaurant doesn’t close for another hour. I chose the right man for the job.

I revise that opinion less than a minute later when he walks into the dining room.

People gawk as he passes. Bruno is a beast of a man, tall and broad-shouldered. His head is shaved, and he has a spiderweb tattoo on his scalp. He looks exactly like what he is, hired muscle.

In retrospect, he may have been a poor choice of bodyguard. Gianetta’s is a classy establishment. Bruno looks like a Rottweiler. His presence might drive Lucia’s customers away.

She’ll be royally pissed if that happens, and I don’t want her upset. I’ll find someone else to protect her when I’m not available.

As Olivia returns to the table, I get to my feet. “Bruno will take you home.”

Her face falls. “But I wanted dessert.”

“Bruno will buy you gelato on the way home.”

“I don’t want…” Her voice trails off as she registers my expression.

She can argue with me all she likes when we’re alone.

I welcome it, in fact. But in public, in front of one of my men, she needs to acquiesce to whatever demands I make.

That’s something she should be used to, growing up in a Mafia family.

She clears her throat. “On second thoughts, ice-cream would be delightful.”

She spins on her heel and flounces from the dining room. Bruno trails behind her. I hope she doesn’t give him a hard time. He’s not got much of a personality, but the man is loyal to my family, and he doesn’t deserve to be treated like shit.

I retake my seat and sit back to enjoy the rest of the bottle of wine.

Gradually, the restaurant’s patrons finish their meals and leave. Angelina and the other servers clear the tables and tidy the mess left behind. I move to the bar so I’m out of their way.

Francesco, who tends bar for Lucia, has already left for the night. I take another bottle of the Barolo and two glasses, then grab a seat.

“Angelina,” I call out as the young woman passes me on her way to the kitchen. I hand her several hundred euro bills. “For the wine and for the service tonight.”

“You already left a tip when you paid the check, signore .”

“Then consider this a bonus for finishing up quickly.”

“Yes, signore .”

Taking the hint, she goes to hurry the other members of staff along. After ten minutes, the dining room is cleared, and the staff scurry off into the kitchen.

A short while later they, and the kitchen staff, file out through the front door. Lucia, wearing blue jeans, a white shirt and beige raincoat, follows.

Instead of heading for the door, she clambers onto the seat next to me, clearly exhausted.

“You waited for me,” she observes.

“I did.” I pour her a glass of wine.

Lucia takes an enormous gulp. Smacking her lips together, she sets her glass down.

“I hope you paid for this.”

“Of course.” Some men might take advantage and help themselves to whatever they want, but I would never leave her out of pocket. “You were jealous tonight.”

“No.” She shakes her head vehemently. “I just thought it was disrespectful of you to fuck me, disappear for a couple of nights and then show up here with another woman.”

“I apologize for my absence. I’ve been busy.”

The last few days have been hectic with Damiano and I negotiating a new deal with a weapons manufacturer in the Middle East.

“Like I care!” Lucia says unconvincingly. Clearly, she missed my presence, though she’d never admit it. She scans the room and frowns. “Where is your cousin?”

“I sent her home with Bruno.”

“Ah, right, my strong, silent shadow. How will I get home unscathed without him?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take you home.”

She flashes a cynical smile. “Unscathed?”

“I can’t promise not to touch you.”

She nods toward the bottle of wine. “You’re not planning to drive, I hope.”

“No, I left the car at home. I knew I’d end up having a few drinks tonight. Olivia is too much to cope with sober.”

Lucia arches an eyebrow. “You’re telling me there’s a woman Lorenzo the Magnificent can’t handle.”

“Hard to believe, I know, but my cousin’s a hellion.”

Lucia winks and raises her glass in a toast. “Then here’s to Olivia Volante.”

As much as I’d love to sit here all night enjoying the light-hearted banter between us, I can see Lucia’s eyelids drooping.

We’re going to have to discuss the long hours she’s putting in here. I have a feeling that will be a tough conversation, so I shelve it for now.

“Let’s get you home.” I rise from my seat and help her down from hers.

When we get outside, she hands me the keys, allowing me to lock the front door. It feels like a significant gesture somehow, a sign of trust.

It’s a beautiful night. The air is still, and the sky is a deep indigo. Lucia’s apartment is just across the river.

Walking hand in hand with her along Florence’s historic streets gives me a feeling of inner peace I haven’t known for a long time.

It takes seven minutes to reach her apartment. At the outside door, Lucia pulls her hand from mine and fishes her keys out of her pocket.

She opens the door and turns to me.

“Are you coming in?” She sounds as if she wants me to say no.

“I planned to.”

She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, worried about something. “I’m tired tonight, Lorenzo.”

I place a finger beneath her chin and tilt her head back until she meets my gaze.

“I know that, gattina . We’ll just sleep, I promise.”

It’s not something I would usually do, but for her I’m willing. I don’t know how I’ll feel if she utters the refusal I can tell is on the tip of her tongue.

The thought of being rejected, of heading home to my empty bed when I can enjoy this beautiful woman’s warmth all night kills me.

“Okay, then,” she says after a brief pause.

Taking my hand, she leads me upstairs.