Secret Italian Prince's Baby

"I'm perfectly capable of opening my own door," I replied. My stomach growled loudly enough that both of us could hear it. "Let's go eat."

"We'll revisit this discussion later."

We walked inside. Massimo caught my hand in his much larger one. The hostess was blonde with very short hair and dark eyebrows.

"Hello!" she said. "How can I help you?"

"Table for two," he said. As she eyed him, his hand grasped mine just a little more firmly.

"Of course," she said. I didn't like the flirtatious tone of her voice.

She sat us down at a table near the front, next to a big window. Massimo let go of my hand when we sat down on opposite sides of the table.

"Ashley will be with you soon to take your order," she said. "I hope you enjoy your time." She touched Massimo's shoulder and I almost leapt up to stab her with my knife.

"She touched you," I growled.

"Settle down," Massimo said, although he had a smile on his lips. "She can't hold a candle to you. I like it when you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," I said, although my hand still itched for my knife. It was a weirdly huge steak knife.

"You are. It's sexy," he said, lowering his voice a little. "I wish that we were alone right now, bella."

Heat flooded my cheeks. "Massimo..." His foot touched mine. I jumped in my chair before tucking my feet under my own chair. He smiled like a cat who had just eaten a lot of cream.

He stroked my hand very gently. "Do you know what you want to eat?"

I licked my lips and looked at the menu. "Why does everything include steak?"

"It's a steakhouse," he said. "And in the morning, you can get steak for breakfast."

I looked at the options. "I'm probably going to get an egg with steak strips and two slices of toast."

"I'll get what I normally get, the Steakhouse: their biggest steak, cooked for 18 hours, with 4 eggs and two paninis."

I gulped hard. "How can you eat all that?"

"That's just to get me started. I normally eat dessert, too."

"For breakfast?"

"Yes." Massimo laughed a little. "And if you're nice to me, I'll let you share it. Maybe I'll feed you some chocolate cake, hm?"

"That sounds good," I said. "I love chocolate."

His eyes were on my mouth, as if he were imagining feeding me. But we were in public, in full view of a whole bunch of people. I took the menu from his hand and laid it down.

"I'm getting the Jamaican Beef Wrap. I know it's early, but they serve it now."

“I changed my mind. I’m getting the Steak Parmi," he said. "I guess we both aren't in the mood for breakfast at the moment. But we'll be getting that chocolate cake to go."

When the food arrived, we stopped talking. I couldn't shovel the food into my mouth fast enough, frankly. Finally, I got to the end.

"I feel like an overstuffed balloon," I groaned. "I don't think I'll have room for that cake."

"Just wait," he said. "It's Mississippi Mud Cake. Believe me, you'll like it."

I put a hand on my round stomach. "I'll believe it when I see it."