XOXO (The Calvettis of New York 3)

She steps back as I swing open the back passenger door. “He used his real first name in our correspondence. That’s all I had. I sent the money to a bank account that my bank couldn’t trace.”

Arietta slides onto the back seat. “He was younger than me. When I brought up fraud, he broke out in a sweat.”

I get in next to her. “It sounds like you gambled and won.”

“I got my money back that day in cash.” She smiles. “That’s all I wanted.”

She’s incredibly fortunate. That meeting could have ended much worse.

“If he would have looked like a mobster, I would have walked out of the diner.” She laughs as the driver pulls into traffic. “But he looked like my first boyfriend. Clean-cut, well-dressed, geeky.”

She’s describing Lowlife to a tee.

“Is that your type, Arietta?”

Her gray eyes scan my face. “Nerdy guys or dorky assholes?”

I don’t answer because I suspect that’s a rhetorical question.

“I need to swear off men like that.” She glances out of the window of the car. “I haven’t had good luck with those types of men.”

I drop my gaze to her legs and the skin in view just above her knees. It has to be soft. It must taste like heaven. I follow the skirt of her dress with my gaze, wondering what she’s wearing underneath it.

“I’d ask what your type is, sir, but personal questions are still prohibited, right?”

I catch the hint of a smile that plays on her full lips.

“I don’t have a type, Arietta.”

She cocks a perfectly arched blonde brow. “Really?”

I lean closer until the scent of her perfume hits me. “Really.”

She lets out the tiniest sound, almost a moan, before she shifts her gaze back to the window of the car. “You should go through Central Park. It’s faster.”

The driver glances in the rearview mirror and smiles. “Your wish is my command, Miss.”

I toss him a back-the-hell-off look when he shifts his gaze to me.

This may not be a date, but she’s mine tonight.

I plan on spending the next several hours in the company of Miss Voss in a place I know I’ll be forced to behave myself.

Chapter 30

Dominick

“Is your new boyfriend meeting you here for dinner?” My grandmother asks Arietta as soon as we walk into the restaurant. She looks me over from head-to-toe. “What are you doing here?”

“Talk about brutal,” I say, raising a hand to the center of my chest. “It’s good to see you too, Marti.”

She’s had the nickname forever. I still slip a grandma or granny in from time-to-time, but for the most part, she’s Marti to all of her grandchildren.

Laughing, she perches on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on my cheek and a soft slap on the other. I know that move. It’s the I-love-you-but-smarten-the-hell-up move.

“Lowell and I aren’t going to see each other again,” Arietta confesses. “He wasn’t honest with me.”

Marti crosses her arms over her chest. “He’s a weasel, is he?”

Arietta nods. “A big one.”

“He can go straight to hell,” Marti swears for maybe the third time in her life.

I straighten and toss her a look. “Language, Marti.”

She shakes a fist at me. “You’re trouble tonight. Why are you really here? Do you have a date? Am I finally going to meet a woman you like?”

Arietta and I lock eyes before she breaks the gaze. “Mr. Calvetti is having dinner with me tonight.”

Marti glances at Arietta before she turns to me. The way her eyebrows are dancing around, I know what’s bouncing around in her head. I shoot her a look to stop her from blurting out something that will embarrass the hell out of Arietta.

“Mr. Calvetti?” She questions. “Why is she calling you that? It’s the evening. You’re on a date.”

“No,” I say in unison with my assistant.

Arietta takes over with laughter bubbling out of her. “This is so not a date, Marti. Why would I be on a date with Mr. Calvetti?”

I don’t find this nearly as amusing as she does.

“Dominick is a nice boy.” Shaking her head, Marti taps the center of my chest with her index finger. “All right, he’s a smart boy, and he does well for himself at work. You know that, Arietta.”

What kind of backhanded compliment was that?

I look at my grandmother. “What?”

“Mr. Calvetti is a nice man,” Arietta interjects. “He saved me tonight.”

Marti’s gaze darts to me. “You saved her?”

Glancing up at me, Arietta smiles. “He saved me from making a huge mistake. I’m indebted to him.”

I know exactly how I want to be repaid. It starts with those lips of hers. I want them on mine.

“He keeps his kindness hidden.” Marti wraps an arm around my waist, and I take her in a side-hug. “My grandson has a big heart.”

“I’m ready to eat,” I interrupt before my grandmother says more. “Arietta and I will have spaghetti.”