Apparently, mafia life is like a goddamn soap opera.
“What are you doing all the way over here in the shade?” he asks. “Haven’t you heard that all stars should be centerfold.”
“You’re so cheesy, Polo,” she says, even as I watch her eyes twinkle.
Polo smirks at her before his gaze turns to me. “Winter!”
He jogs down the rest of the remaining stairs, his face bright with happiness. “I’ve been waiting to see you again,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me until I’m standing in front of him. He pulls my hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on it. “There was so much fire the last time we met.” He laughs.
I can’t help but to look over at Daria and I don’t miss the way her smile has dropped from her face. When she catches my gaze, she tries to force herself to smile, but it’s so dull that I feel guilty. Because she’s so nice and I can tell she’s not trying to be catty.
“It’s a shame Vito couldn’t be here,'' Polo continues, looking around as if he expects him to suddenly appear.
“It is,” Maximo agrees, walking up behind Polo and looking over his shoulder at me.
He gives me a wink that makes my cheeks warm up.
I pull my hand away from Polo as I return my attention back to him. “Thank you, it’s nice to meet you again, too,” I tell him. Which isn’t a lie. He’s a rather charming man, and though I feel bad about him flirting with me in front of Daria, I know it’s harmless.
And I need something harmless more than anything right now.
I take a step away from him just as Daria stands.
Giovanni and Lorenzo approach, apparently done with their business as well.
“It was nice meeting you, Winter,” Daria says and I can tell she’s telling the truth, her real smile back on her face now as she wraps her thin arms around me. “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”
I agree.
The meeting was short, but I actually enjoyed being around her. She was nice, honest, and a fresh breath of air in a toxic world.
“Soon,” Lorenzo says as he approaches, his voice low. I survey him now that he’s closer. He really is a beautiful man. Tall with a thin build and long black hair. His blue eyes are striking and his beard is short and neat. There’s a mellow air to him that doesn’t scream a dangerous man in charge.
But I remind myself that looks are deceiving.
Everyone says their goodbyes and Givoanni leads us out of the arena. When we get to the car, Enzo opens Giovanni’s door and I climb into the backseat beside Maximo.
Enzo starts the car and we pull away from the arena.
“So?” Maximo asks after too many moments of silence.
Giovanni peers into the backseat. “We’re on.”