Grieved Loss (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 3) - Page 68

Ryker wore his suit like a second skin. Every inch of the suit was custom made to fit him, stretching over his muscles just enough to tease while still being entirely appropriate. There was no hiding that he was a beast of a man, but Ryker wasn't the type to hide who he was, anyway. He owned himself.

Dick piercing and all.

I swallowed as I glanced down at the way his pants mostly concealed what I knew was a massive cock, before darting my eyes away. I'd felt the piercing with my hand, but I still hadn't gotten a very good look at it. It seemed insane, since I'd had him inside of me.

Multiple times.

I'd felt enough to know what I was looking for when I went on google, and I had to say that wasn't an experience I wanted to relive. I had a feeling most cock piercings just weren't my thing.

But the frenum piercing was just right, subtle and sexy but rugged and hard.

It suited Ryker.

"That wasn't what I meant, you know?" he asked with a chuckle. I blushed, hoping he hadn't seen my wandering eyes. The amused look on his face made me think I probably hadn't been so lucky, but I pushed through it.

"What did you mean then?" I asked, staring out the window as the city streets rolled by one by one. Angel's loomed up ahead, looking stunning against the city backdrop. Like something out of a magazine.

"I meant to help you cope with what you learned last night," he said. The car downshifted as he moved to pull into the valet parking.

"I'm fairly certain there's nothing you can do to help with that," I huffed with a sardonic laugh. When the car came to a stop, he hopped out quickly. He ordered the boy away from my door, striding around it with confident steps to pull it open himself. Taking his hand with a deep sigh, I let him support me as I pivoted my body, and he pulled me out of the car.

"Come on, Sunshine. Let's get you inside," he whispered, rubbing his hand up and down the sleeve of my jacket as if he could warm me up through the fabric. He guided me to the front doors like that, and the valet driver pulled the Maserati away from the curb to make room for the other cars pulling up behind it.

Angel's was always busy, even on a Thursday.

Someone opened the door for us, and he guided me inside. I winced at the people waiting in the vestibule. The interior doors opened, and they allowed us inside to speak to the hostess. I noticed the interior was empty at the front aside from her and realized I was far beyond my comfort zone if people couldn’t even wait inside.

"Mr. Fiore. We've been expecting you. Right this way," the hostess said with a gushing smile. Ryker nodded to her, not saying a word as he assumed his gruffer persona that I occasionally saw him use with people other than us. I had to wonder about the differences in his personality, and if it was an active decision for him to be so varied.

As we walked, I noted the restaurant was pure Italian with a classic elegance that seemed familiar even if I'd never been there. "Will this be acceptable for you, Sir?" she asked, and I wanted to laugh at the thought of calling Ryker by such a title.

Of all the men I knew, Sir suited him the least. He was a brute, a meatball, and a criminal. Not a Sir.

"This will be fine," Ryker said, moving to my chair and pulling it out for me. I looked at him in surprise, but moved to sit as he tucked it in behind me. He did it so effortlessly, so fluidly, like he'd done it hundreds of times.

I wondered if it was part of his life with the Bellandis, but got the distinct impression that he wasn't one of the refined business members of the family. Whatever Ryker did for the Bellandis, I was certain it was less cultured. That left his childhood as a possibility for being so well-practiced.

He sat down across from me, giving me a reassuring smile as the hostess excused herself and a waitress appeared to fill our water glasses. "Can I interest you in a wine list?" she asked. Ryker rattled off the name of a Pinot Grigio I'd never heard of, but I didn't care about wine enough to contradict him. Aside from at Ivory's, I hadn't had a drink since before the kids were born, always fearing that I wouldn't hear them cry if I was in the deep sleep that came with alcohol.

I'd always been a lightweight, but I hadn't been quite that much of a lightweight before.

When the waitress disappeared, I opened my menu and focused on it. Even if my options as a pescatarian were limited, I wouldn't waste my first time at Angel's on a meal I chose at the last minute. The reprieve it gave me from Ryker's intense stare was only a bonus. "Do you come here a lot?" I asked him, and I tried not to imagine all the women he'd wined and dined there.

Probably while he stalked me.

"No. I've never been here before. The Bellandis own it," he said, looking up at me from behind his menu.

"Oh, is that why she knew you by name?" I asked.

"Yes, Sunshine. She knew me by name because it is her job to know all the Bellandis on sight." I didn't bother to argue that he wasn't actually a Bellandi. I'd seen and heard enough to know that they had their own family, their own hierarchy.

They may not have been family by name, but they were a family in every way that mattered. Ryker seemed determined to apply that kind of logic to the ready-made family he'd inherited along with me.

The waitress returned with our wine, pouring it all properly in that way I never did. "Are you ready to order?" she asked.

"She'll have the pasta primavera and I'll have the ossobuco," Ryker ordered, taking the menu from my hand and handing it to the waitress along with his. I blinked at him in surprise as she walked away, unable to believe he'd been so arrogant as to order for me.

"What if I didn't want the primavera?" I asked him.

Tags: Adelaide Forrest Bellandi Crime Syndicate Romance
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