We’re seated at the bar and her martini has just arrived. She’s staring at it instead of me.
“What do you mean?” I ask her.
“Well, we can’t talk about our lives with each other,” she points out. “I live with Mateo. I can’t talk about my home life without worrying that you’re here to spy.”
“If I’m here to spy, I’m the worst spy there is,” I tell her. “You already know who I am.”
“Or maybe you just think I’m an easy mark,” she returns, raising a dark eyebrow.
“So far, nothing about you has been easy,” I inform her.
Rolling her eyes, she said, “I’ve known you for one whole day and I’m here getting a drink with you. You think that’s a girl being difficult?”
I can’t help smiling. “In my experience, yes.”
“Ugh,” she says, rolling her eyes again. “You’re going to make me injure an optic nerve.”
“Well, it’s the truth,” I defend.
“It’s an arrogant truth.”
“Want me to take my shirt off? It might help you understand.”
She groans, dramatically dropping her head against the counter. “You’re the worst.”
“I’m not the worst.”
Lifting her head, she shakes it at me, testing those optic nerves by rolling her eyes at me again. “Yes, you are. I hate arrogant men.”
I take a sip of my beer. “All right, then what do you like in a man?”
“Why?” she asks, amused. “So you can pretend to be that until you fuck me? Do you even want to fuck me, or is this some game you’re playing with my brother? I had half a mind to ask him at dinner last night if he was having issues with you, you know.”
“Don’t do that,” I say, mildly alarmed. “Trust me; I’m following my cock, not some diabolical plan.”
“The. Worst,” she says accusingly, pointing her index finger at me.
I catch that finger, bringing it to my mouth and running it over my lips. I want to kiss her so fucking bad. I mean, I want to do more than kiss her, but she already told me that was a no-go tonight and I won’t try to change her mind. I’m gonna try the respectful route.
Her gorgeous brown eyes get a little hooded as I do. Her delicate hand goes limp in mine. I know she feels the same attraction I feel. I mean, we’re both sexy people, so why shouldn’t she?
We also can’t be together, not in a million years.
Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.
And boy, do I want to taste her forbidden fruit.
“You said sex was off the table, but what if we just touch?”
Francesca shakes her head no. She holds my gaze, though.
“How are you single?” I ask her.
“My brother’s Mateo Morelli,” she says, lightly amused.
“He’s protective?”
“Not of me,” she says, mildly. “But he’s scary.”
“Do I look scared?”
A helpless smile tugs at her mouth and she pulls her hand away from me, turning her attention to her drink. “So, next time I’m sitting here on this bar stool across from a guy who wants to fuck me, you want me to tell him, ‘my brother’s Mateo Morelli, and my ex is Salvatore Castellanos—wait, come back!’?” Smirking, she says, “Is that right?”
I have to laugh at that. I don’t pay much thought to what it’s like for the women in our families, to be honest, but I guess she has a point. We’re two of the more dangerous men in this city, and I’m not an easy act to follow to begin with.
I shouldn’t, I normally wouldn’t, but I catch myself saying, “What makes you think there’d be a next guy?”
Francesca sighs, but she can handle me, I can tell. She’s not getting swept up in my bullshit, and damn, if I don’t respect that. “I’m no fool, Salvatore.”
“Neither am I, Francesca.”
Tipping back her martini, she takes a long drink. “I need to go home,” she tells me.
“Why’s that?” I ask, mildly.
“Because you are gonna get me in trouble, and I don’t like trouble.”
“What do you like?” I ask again, since she never answered me last time.
“Stability. The bakery. Hydrangeas. Guys who don’t lie to me and approach me with ulterior motives. Guys who have no association whatsoever with my brother. Guys who have no similarities to my brother. Nice guys. Good guys. Those mythical, unicorn-like creatures.”
“What if I’m a good guy?” I ask her.
“You’re not,” she says, completely sure of herself.
“What if I wanna be?”
“Then try volunteering at a soup kitchen,” she shoots back. “I’m not here to fix you. I’m not here to entertain you. I’m not charmed by anything I know about you. If anything, you’re at a clear disadvantage, and I don’t know why you’re wasting your time and energy, to be honest.”
“I don’t think you’re a waste of my time or energy,” I tell her.
“I’m not,” she tells me. “Pursuing me is. Am I attracted to you? Sure. You’ve got those piercing gray eyes, the general hot-guy appeal. You’re even dangerous, for girls who are into that. I’m not. I don’t want dangerous. I don’t want hot. I want someone who can get me out of this life, not someone who’s as deep in it as I am.”