De Lucci’s Obsession

I exited NY Business School with a bounce in my step. I had an inkling I aced the exam. I’d been anxious going in because all I did on Monday instead of studying was daydream about a sexy Italian. The one who carried and laid me gently on the bed. The one who snuggled up to me for a while. I even put a do-not-disturb sign on my door on Monday so I could study. Half the time I was daydreaming about the kiss Cesar planted on my brow before he left that morning.

I wasn’t sure if I imagined it.

He left his scent on my pillows and, admittedly, I was pathetic with how often I’d sniffed it. In my defense, I was just getting rid of Onion Breath. I shuddered at the cold, calculating manner in which Cesar informed me Silvio wouldn’t be bothering me anymore. Being holier-than-thou never figured in my mentality. There was bad and there was evil. I had no qualms of saying sayonara to slime like Silvio.

I also hoped I wasn’t attached to Cesar as my savior or protector. Because jumping every time the phone rang thinking it was him was also another level of pathetic. What happened to my mantra—“No boys until I finished college”?

I snorted. Cesar was not a boy.

Thigh-high white tights encased in white Mary Janes stood in my path, rousing me from my musings. A woman in a yellow plaid suit stood in line where there was a row of pay phones. Clueless came out this year and Cher Horowitz became a fashion icon. I thought about my own black and gray plaid in my closet I bought on a whim.

The line to the pay phone wasn’t longer than normal, but I was really hungry. I intended to reward myself with good ole Brooklyn-style pizza and beer. Maybe Mads and the kids were up for company, although it was almost seven and she’d probably prepared dinner.

I was pondering my choice of pizza toppings when I felt him. Not in a supernatural way by ESP. The shiver down my spine was me knowing it was Cesar, but it was the same scent on my pillows that assailed my nostrils. Woodsy oak moss blended with leather, citrus, and bergamot.

Glancing up, I saw him staring at me in amusement.

“Ready?” he asked.

Confusion rattled my brain. “Ready? What are you talking about?”

Without answering me, he grasped my elbow and led me to a double-parked Bentley. “Eric was circling,” he said. “Should’ve put a tracker on you.”

Digging in my heels, I snapped out of my surprised haze and yanked my arm from him. “Hold on. Hold on. What?”

His eyes turned indulgent. Ugh, I wanted to kick him in the shin. I wanted to do violence to this man. My heart was also racing in anticipation.

“Our date? Told you on Sunday,” he informed me.

“How do you even know my schedule?” My mouth fell open. “Oh my God, you didn’t.”

Cars started honking.

I flung my arm in the direction of the street. “You’re causing traffic.”

“No. You are.”

Mutiny sparked inside me. “That’s blackmail.”

“Take it however you wish.”

An irate driver got out of his car and stalked toward the Bentley. “Hey, asshole, move it!”

Cesar seemed unconcerned. His driver got out and was twice the size of the irate driver who cowered instinctively.

“Your choice,” he mocked.

“I can’t believe this.” I ducked into his stupid vehicle before I gave in to the desire to follow through about kicking him in the shin … or where it would cause more damage.

Sitting back against the luxurious leather, I crossed my arms and huffed. Words wouldn’t form on my tongue.

Cesar got in beside me. “This is Eric.”

His driver was blond, with a buzz-cut and looked ex-military.

“I’ll have you know your boss blackmailed me into getting into this car.” I glared at Cesar whose mouth was twitching in amusement. “I take that back. He kidnapped me.”

“Guilty.”

“What else do you know about me?” I fumed. “I hardly know anything about you except you’re Paulie’s brother.”

“That’s why I invited you for dinner.”

I shot him a dirty look.

He barked a laugh, and I tried very hard to ignore the warmth suffusing my body. I was pissed at him. That was why I was feeling hot. The pulse below my pelvis called me a liar, but, good heavens, he was devastatingly handsome when he cut loose.

Cesar cleared his throat. “There might have been a little coercion.”

“This was pure coercion.”

“But how else would you get to know me? I’m sure you have questions. I might not answer every single one—”

“Ha. Figures.”

“We have reservations at Le Bernardin for eight-thirty. If we head to your apartment now—”

“I want pizza,” I cut in. “I’ve been craving it since this morning.”

“You’re trading a five-star meal at Le Bernardin for pizza?” Cesar’s affronted expression made me want to laugh. How was this happening? I’d never been attracted to a man in an expensive suit. They were a dime a dozen in New York. But his dry humor … I dug it.

“I am. And just a warning. I’m starving. Diavolo Pizzeria is in my neighborhood.”

“You sure? I’ve heard of the place. We might not find a table.”

“I don’t care if I eat standing up. I want that pizza.”

Cesar leaned forward, his face inching so close to mine I thought he was going to kiss me. His eyes gleamed with a promise that made me hold my breath, then his mouth quirked in a self-deprecating smile.

“Your wish is my command, cara.”

In the midst of New York rush hour, Eric skillfully navigated the streets from Manhattan to Brooklyn and delivered us to my neighborhood in less than twenty minutes.

“I’m impressed. Even I don’t know some of the side streets he just took.”

“Eric was born and raised in Brooklyn.”

“So was I,” I said, and then leaned forward to ask Cesar’s driver a question. “Do you have military experience?”

His driver cocked his head toward me. “I’m afraid if I tell you, I’d have to kill you.”

“Eric,” Cesar said quietly. His driver exchanged a look with him in the mirror and merely smiled.

“I don’t know when Ava and I will be done. I’ll probably walk her home.” Cesar looked around. “I believe your brownstone is a few blocks up?” We got out of the Bentley at a cross street where the restaurant was located.

“It is,” I said.

He took my hand and we started walking toward the pizzeria.

“Cesar?”

He glanced at me as though I’d interrupted a debate in his head.

I had a debate battling in my brain as well. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

A mildly exasperated look crossed his face. “You’re being presumptuous.”

“Am I?”

“We’ve already slept together,” he pointed out.

“Snuggling in bed is not the same as having sex.”

“It’s more intimate.”

Huh, he got me there. “So, no sex.”

His brows drew together. “It’s off the table unless you initiate. We managed it last Sunday.”

“I don’t understand why—”

He stopped walking and grabbed my shoulders. It made me yelp, not in pain but surprise, partly due to the abruptness of the gesture and the fierceness in his eyes. It was as if all self-restraint had left him.

“I …” his mouth twisted in a controlled snarl. “I need … need you in my arms and I can’t explain it without sounding psycho.”

“Tell me anyway.” I was attracted to him. He was a gorgeous man, and he obviously didn’t know what to do with me. Causing as much turmoil inside himself as he did in me was extremely gratifying.

A wry smile took over the intensity of his gaze. “If you promise not to run away screaming.”

“Maybe this isn’t a conversation for the streets. It seems you need me, and I need you to feed me.”

“I feel so used,” he said.

We entered the pizzeria and, just like Cesar had warned, there was a line. The turnover of tables seemed to be quick though, and when we were about third in line to be served, a cozy corner table opened up, and Cesar told me to snag it.

“I want two slices,” I informed him. “One all meat, the other just cheese. Oh, and a Coke.” I changed my mind about the beer.

“Got it.”

I weaved my way to our table and sat with my back against the wall so I could observe Cesar move through the line. He stood out not because he was in a suit. He was not the only one. But there was just something about him. A don’t-fuck-with-me attitude that made people give him a wide berth, yet they couldn’t help gawking at him.

And then it struck me—he looked like the movie ideal of a mafia Don. A wisp of laughter passed my lips just as he cocked his head to check on me.

He frowned and mouthed, “What?”

I waved him off and pretended to look at the specials that were on a tiny rectangular acrylic stand on the table.

Was this considered our first date?

I guess it was. He’d been planning to take me to Le Bernardin—a Michelin-starred restaurant. Not in my wildest dream had I ever imagined dining there. It was a place where Sean took his high-value clients. I knew Robert had taken Mads there for their anniversary. But with Cesar being a billionaire, it could just be another dinner for him in Manhattan.

My mind wandered back to Sunday when his eyes met mine across the room. I thought he was teasing when he spit-balled the time and day for our wine-lesson date. My family owned a pub. I was used to flirting from customers and didn’t think about it especially when Silvio ended my evening on a sour note.

Cesar made his way to our table with a tray and settled into the chair beside me. “What’s so funny?” He pulled back the tab of the coke can and poured it into a plastic tumbler of ice and set it in front of me.

I rolled my lips. “Nothing.”

He wiped the crown of his beer bottle and took a swig before saying, “Don’t deny it, cara.” His gaze swept around the restaurant. “I’m not the only one in a suit.”

I was suddenly conscious of what I was wearing. A leather jacket, t-shirt, jeans, and Docs.

“You look fine,” he said as if reading my mind. “They probably think I’m your sugar daddy.”

“You’re not that old,” I protested. “How old are you anyway?”

He arched a brow. “You don’t know?”

I shook my head. “Thirty-two? I can’t even keep track of Paulie’s age.”

“Thirty-four.”

“You’re eleven years older than me.”

“Don’t remind me.” He took another draw from his beer. “You look eighteen right now without makeup.”

“I look better with makeup?” I asked.

“I don’t really care.” The way he said those words were so soft I almost didn’t hear him amidst the noise in the pizzeria. “I like seeing your freckles.”

I instinctively touched my nose. He pulled my hand away. “Don’t do that.”

A server came up to us. “Three meat pizzas and two cheese?”

Cesar exchanged the order number with the tray.

“So, at least I could say, you’re eating one more slice than I am,” I declared as he set my order in front of me. I immediately folded my pizza and took a bite.

“I admire a woman with an appetite,” he said. “And I’m glad you’re not shy about eating in front of me.”

“When it’s pizza and when I’m this hungry, I lose all my social graces and forget all my dating etiquette.”

His eyes gleamed. “There’s a dating etiquette?”

I swallowed my next bite and smirked. “You tell me? You’ve got years more experience than I do.”

His face came closer, and his gaze dropped to my mouth before returning to my eyes. “I can show you what other experience I picked up along the way.”

My mouth went dry, and I was acutely aware of his knees touching mine. I continued chewing and the pizza got stuck in my throat. I chased it with Coke. “Wow, that’s very forward.”

“Does it bother you?” He sat back as if giving me space after a sneak attack. “I’m not used to waiting. I go after what I want. Take what I want.”

It was getting very warm in the pizzeria. “We just met again Sunday.”

“I’ve known you since you were twelve.”

“Not really.”

He gave a lazy smile. “True. But trust me. I’ve waited long enough.”

What did he mean he’d waited long enough? “You’re not making sense. But you promised, right?”

“Scout’s honor.” He put a hand over his chest.

We each ate a slice before my hunger was satisfied enough to continue our conversation that started on the street. “So tell me. Why me? And how did you know my schedule at school?” My thoughts started racing. “Did you set a PI on me? Do you know that’s an invasion of privacy?”

His eyes danced, and he let me stew over my questions by working on his second slice.

“Well?”

“Paulie.”

“Oh.” Of course! I had told Paulie about my schedule when we talked on the phone. Cesar turned my brain to mush and addled my otherwise passable deduction skills, but I still didn’t understand one thing. “Why me?”

“Why not? You’re a beautiful woman.”

“I’m far from your type.”

“Oh?” His mouth twitched. “And what do you think my type is?”

“Maybe a supermodel or a curvaceous Italian opera singer.”

“Why, Ava, are you stereotyping me?”

“Sorry, it’s just …” I shrugged. “Here I am.”

“Are you fishing for compliments?”

My cheeks heated. “Of course not.”

“I’m attracted to you. Why is that hard to believe?”

“You certainly put a lot of work in to be with me. I mean, Sunday … and then here. Don’t you have a billion-dollar empire to run instead of sitting here at a pizza joint and … and …”

“Enjoy the company of a woman I couldn’t get out of my mind?”

I threw up my hands. “You’ve never even noticed me before.”

“You were fifteen to a man of twenty-six. The last time I saw you…” he exhaled heavily.

“It was at Lorenzo’s funeral, and then at your mom’s,” I said softly. “That was a heartbreaking two years for your family.”

His mouth grew tight, but he nodded.

“I didn’t go to Paulie’s wedding,” I said. It was held in Chicago. I was mad at him for marrying into the Chicago crime family. Partly from my loyalty to Charles, but mostly because I was worried he’d be drawn further into the mobster life. “You probably didn’t notice I wasn’t there.”

“It was a hectic time. I flew in the day before the wedding and left two days after.” He smiled briefly. “You were what? Nineteen? It was probably a good thing, or I would have noticed you then.”

I laughed. “Can’t say I filled out.”

Cesar’s eyes searched my face before he cocked his head and let his eyes do an exaggerated appraisal of my body.

This time my cheeks were on fire.

He smirked. “No comment.”

“What?” I wasn’t willing to let that slide. I didn’t know why I was so bullheaded about this. Oh, wait. I knew why. “I’m determined not to make the same mistakes of the past. My latest boyfriend of two years didn’t think twice about leaving me when a lucrative job offer came up. That was five months ago. And I want to be honest here. I might not be ready for any kind of relationship, serious or casual.”

His face darkened, and his upper lip curled in a half snarl. “He didn’t deserve you.”

“You’re in no position to judge. You don’t know him. Maybe I’m not lovable. I’m certainly not a unique beauty that would launch a thousand ships.” Or inspire a rock musician to give up his dreams of making it big.

“I’m not that shallow,” he said tersely.

I made a pfft sound. “You have the luxury of not being a starving musician.”

His nostrils flared. He grabbed his beer and drained it. Afterward he speared me with a glare and said, “Are you prejudiced against someone with money?”

“I consider Paulie one of my best friends,” I pointed out. “And my family isn’t exactly destitute, but we work hard.”

“And you think I don’t?”

This discussion wasn’t going anywhere because there was no comparing Brad and Cesar. Polar opposites, not only in looks, but financial status and personality.

I grasped at something else. “I recall Paulie saying you had an opera singer girlfriend. And she was …” I did the universal gesture of the hour-glass figure.

“I never keep girlfriends.”

The pizza I just ate threatened to back up my throat. “Ooookay. Then maybe you need to be clear about what we’re doing here.”

Cesar muttered under his breath as though explaining himself to me irritated him. Well, tough.

“Physically, I’m attracted to you,” he rasped. “A face like yours is unforgettable.” At my doubtful look, he grabbed my hand. “I see beauty, innocence.” He let go of my hand to trace a finger along the line of my jaw. “Strength.”

“Mom said it was a stubborn jaw,” I said.

“Apparently stubborn jaws are my thing.”

“Cesar …”

“But,” he continued. “I don’t like explaining the why, Ava, because I don’t understand it myself. I’m drawn to you.” He let out a breath. “I have a million things that need my attention, but all I could think about is spending time with you.”

“I just don’t want this to be a guilt thing because of what happened with Silvio.”

All humor vanished from his face and what I saw reflected in his eyes reminded me that this man had no problem being judge, jury, and executioner. “Do not mention that fucker’s name in my presence again.”

I looked away, unable to make sense of the chill that wrapped around my heart where earlier it was basking under the glow of his attention. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

He leaned forward and said quietly, “Tell me you get me, Ava.”

“I do.”

“His crew is looking for him. It’d be best if you give yourself amnesia over what happened.”

“Okay.”

“He is not linked to you whatsoever. I want it to stay that way.”

“But—”

“This discussion is over.” He straightened in his seat and attacked the last slice of pie.

I didn’t want Cesar to get into trouble, but I guess he was more an expert at making people disappear. My stomach rolled. Even if Silvio deserved it, it was only just hitting me now that I’d caused the death of another person.

“He is not worth thinking about,” he told me as if sensing my turmoil.

Somehow that pissed me off, and that time it was I who inched my face closer. “Don’t tell me who or what is worth thinking about. Especially the cost of a human life.”

“Ava—”

“This date is over,” I told him. “I want to go home.”

He opened his mouth to argue but shut it again when he studied my expression. His jaw clenched, before he notched his chin down and threw a couple of bills on the table. I slid back my chair and got up, anxious to get away from him.

Cesar had excited me like no man ever had, but I wondered if I was attracted to the danger and power coiled inside him. I wondered if I was destined to make the same mistake as my mother.

I pushed out of the pizzeria doors and welcomed the chilly air on my flushed skin.

Steel-like fingers clamped around my elbow to slow me down, and Cesar’s warm breath teased the shell of my ear. “I’m still walking you home.”

“Thanks for dinner,” I mumbled.

His grip tightened. “I hate politeness,” he growled. “Being polite is the last thing I want from you.”

I inhaled sharply and stumbled, but he kept me from falling.

We continued our walk, passing blocks of brownstones on our way to my apartment.

“Aren’t you curious what I want from you? Want to do to you?”

I glared at him and noted his face had lost all emotion except the heat in his eyes. “Not particularly.”

He chuckled, but it was devoid of humor. How quickly our date turned sour.

My strides were brisk, and I managed not to cause a scene because his implacable grip on my arm was irritating the hell out of me. We survived our trek in silence, but tension squeezed my skull.

When we arrived at the front door, I yanked my arm from his hold. “Thanks for the pizza,” I said again. “I had fun … for the most part.”

He glanced away, muttering another curse before his piercing gaze returned to me. He waved his arm. “I’m walking you to your door,” he clarified. “The door to your apartment.”

“No need—”

“Or we could stand here all evening.”

I had no doubt he would do that, remembering the sinister figure he cut while peering up at my apartment from across the street during the ungodly hours of Monday morning. I wasn’t freaked out because he wasn’t a stranger. He rescued me from Silvio. I was too frazzled that night to remember how many people were in that garden. Was Eric one of them? Was Paulie?

“Fine,” I grumbled, unlocking the outside door and stalking up the steps to the third floor, conscious of Cesar following close behind me.

When we were in front of my apartment, I turned to face him, intending to end whatever was starting between us. “Look, I don’t think—”

Cesar slammed his mouth on mine and shut me up.