Chapter 2 - The Table for Two
The restaurant wasn't one of the crowded, high-profile steakhouses where Ethan usually held meetings with politicians and syndicate capos. It was a secluded, dimly lit Italian bistro tucked away in a quiet corner of downtown, completely closed to the general public. When we walked in, the owner—an older, imposing man with graying hair who looked like he could bench-press a car—greeted Ethan with a deep, respectful nod and whispered, “Good evening, Boss. The private patio is ready.”
I walked beside Ethan, my high heels clicking softly against the terracotta tiles. My mind was still spinning. One hour ago, I had been kissing a glossy poster of this exact man in an empty corporate hallway. Now, I was being escorted into a private garden patio draped in fairy lights, sitting across from him while a waiter poured two glasses of vintage Barolo without us even having to order.
“You own this place, don't you?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I picked up my wine glass.
“Let’s just say I have a very good relationship with the landlord,” Ethan replied smoothly, taking a slow sip of his red wine. He leaned back in his wrought-iron chair, resting one arm casually along the backrest, studying me across the flickering flame of the table candle. “Now. We have a lot of ground to cover, Miss Summers. Starting with why you thought my portrait needed affection.”
I choked slightly on my wine, coughing into my napkin while Ethan watched with far too much amusement.
“I didn't think it needed affection,” I muttered, dabbing my mouth. “I was having a psychotic break induced by sleep deprivation and caffeine poisoning. Anyone who works for you for twelve months is legally entitled to one hallucination-fueled outburst.”
“Is that what you call it?” Ethan’s lips twitched. “A hallucination?”
“I am trying very hard to preserve whatever shred of professional dignity I have left, Ethan. Please cooperate.”
“Professional dignity flew out the window the moment you rated my physical appearance on a scale of one to ten—though you neglected to give an actual number, by the way. I expect a formal spreadsheet on my desk by Monday morning.”
I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. “I hate you.”
“No, you don't,” he said, his voice suddenly shifting, losing its teasing edge and becoming low and steady. I looked up. Ethan was leaning forward, resting his forearms on the white tablecloth, his green eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach do a violent, thrilling flip. “If you hated me, you wouldn't have spent a year anticipating my every move. You wouldn't have stayed late tonight fixing the Meriden shipping manifests before I even asked. And you certainly wouldn't have been thinking about how hot I am when you were supposed to be going home to sleep.”
I opened my mouth to deny it, to throw up some sort of defensive barrier, but the words died in my throat. He was right. Every single word of it was true.
“It’s dangerous,” I whispered, looking down at my wine glass. “You know what you are, Ethan. You run a syndicate. People whisper your name in fear. If anyone in your world figures out that your assistant—that I—actually care about you beyond a paycheck, I become a target. A weakness.”
“Let them try,” Ethan growled, the mafia boss resurfacing instantly, dark and lethal around the edges. The temperature at the table seemed to drop ten degrees. “Nobody touches what’s mine, Alexa. Especially not the woman who keeps my entire empire from collapsing into chaos.”
Before I could process the possessive weight of that word—mine—the waiter arrived, silently placing two plates of handmade pasta between us before vanishing back into the shadows as quickly as he had appeared.
May you like
We ate in a charged, electric silence, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. Every time I looked up, Ethan was watching me, not eating much, just tracking my movements with that same hypnotic gaze.
Little did I know, the quiet sanctuary of that private bistro was about to be violently interrupted by the very underworld we were both trying to keep at arm's length.
