By Virtue I Fall (Sins of the Fathers 3)

“Italian American,” Santino said, still smiling, and making me feel even stabbier. “What can you recommend from your menu?”

She oohed and ahhhed for too long before she read the entire menu to Santino, despite other customers waiting to be served, and then proceeded to take Santino’s order in English without batting an eye. She whirled around without another look in my direction.

“You ordered half the menu. Have you invited anyone over I’m not aware of?”

“I’m starving.”

“Just because the waitress was making the moves on you and thus making an effort to talk in English doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to learn at least some basic French. It’s disrespectful to live in a country and not learn the language.”

“It wasn’t my choice to live in France, was it?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re here now.”

“I’m being nice to the locals as the waitress can attest, while you gave her the evil eye.”

I pressed my lips together to stop myself from saying something very petty. I needed a coffee before I could embark on a verbal battle with Santino.

The waitress came back soon after with our drinks and part of Santino’s order, not my omelet though.

I took a deep sip from my coffee then glanced back toward the kitchen, hoping for my food to arrive soon. My belly was already grumbling angrily. I was always starving after I drank too much alcohol, one of the reasons why I tried to limit my intake.

Santino held out the basket with croissants: plain and chocolate. “Take one. They’re really good.” He emphasized his words by taking a bite from a plain croissant after he’d dipped it in raspberry jam.

“I have a figure to maintain.” The girls in Paris were slim and very aware of their bodies, and I knew the girls who studied fashion design would be even worse.

Santino rolled his eyes. “Your figure is fine. Eat a croissant.”

I rolled my eyes in turn. “I’m sure my omelet will be here any moment.”

Santino ripped a piece off his croissant and held it out before my face. “Come on, be a good girl for once and take a bite.”

Had he really just said be a good girl? I was equally annoyed and thrilled. Instead of a snappy comeback, I leaned forward and snatched up the piece, my lips brushing his fingers. Santino’s eyes locked on mine. He was probably as surprised by my actions as me. The buttery taste of the croissant filled my mouth. I sat back, licking a few crumbs off my lips. Santino never took his eyes off me.

The intensity of his gaze had a new quality. In the past, he only ever reached this level with pure fury, but it wasn’t fury that I saw in his eyes.

My fingers tingled. Strike that. My entire body tingled because my boss’s daughter had touched my skin with her daringly smiling lips.

Last night, I’d dreamed of her. It wasn’t the first time, but it had definitely been the most vivid and dirtiest dream. I really hoped that was a one-time slip, and the result of too much Pernod, but the way my pulse sped up as I watched Anna now, I harbored little hope for myself.

I took a sip from my coffee. I needed to shift my focus to other things, other women preferably. Anna was a job, not a woman. I needed to internalize it until even the last fiber in my body got the message.

“Your expression is very strained. What’s going on? Not happy with your croissant?” Anna hit me with a teasing smile.

I wasn’t sure why but since our evening yesterday, I found her more tolerable than in the past. It was probably a sensation that would pass soon. If I could count on one thing then it was Anna’s talent to drive me up the wall.

“Just trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I’ll be living in France for a while.”

“There are far worse places to live than Paris.”

I had to admit I was pleasantly surprised by Paris so far, but I still would have preferred to return to Chicago.

“How about we do something you want today?” Anna suggested, surprising me.

Unfortunately, my mind went straight to a scene from my dream last night, which was definitely not something that would happen today.

Or any day.

I hadn’t done much research on Paris. It wasn’t a leisure trip after all, but there was one thing that had caught my eye when I’d read about the city before our trip. “The Catacombs.”

Doing the Catacombs on a cold winter day and walking home in the snowy rain probably wasn’t the best choice. Anna was shivering when we finally got home.

“Admit it, you were trying to let me freeze to death so you could return to Chicago.”

“If you freeze to death under my watch, I better not return to Chicago. Your father would make my last days on earth very unpleasant.”