Casing ✔️

Chapter 10

"Good," James replied, his smile making a swift appearance again. "We should eat, before it gets cold."

He reached over and took off the cloche in front of me, revealing a still-steaming plate of food. I didn't know what I expected, to be honest, but a neatly garnished pizza wasn't it. It would pair great with the wine, though.

"How is it still warm?" I asked as he lifted the other cloche, and an identical dish was in front of him.

"I know some people who owe me some favors," he simply said, lifting his utensils to start eating.

I didn't touch mine yet. "What sort of favors?"

The wine seemed to burn a hole through the glass, because I was emptying it very fast as I stared at the man in front of me. The handsomest prince in all the lands, I thought, while I tried to infect the pleasant thoughts with the poison dad fed me about the men he worked with. Or...for.

I already knew James wasn't anything like that. At least, I thought I knew, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to believe myself or not. If I was wise, I'd keep my distance and prepare to leave again—but I'd never been known for that. People called me smart because I read books, including dad and Hank, but if they'd known what sort of books it was, I'd probably be sent on the first bus to become a nun.

"This and that." His words were almost as cold as the wind, and I took a deep breath as I tried to remain calm. I suddenly had an urge to yell at him for putting himself in danger—because I knew that was what he meant—but what right did I have to tell him to do, or don't do, anything? "I helped save a guy's kid, and he happened to be an Italian chef," he explained. "I could see you were thinking hard, princess."

My mouth dried up. "Save a kid? From what?"

I'd grown up with lessons on how to dodge strangers on the street. I knew to assume the worst about everyone I met—yet James fell into some sort of gap in my mind where I didn't know whether to hold onto him for dear life, or push him away. I knew the dangers in Datoches by heart, and to think that kids actually were in danger here...I felt a tiny piece of my heart crack.

Both for that kid that needed saving, and for my dad who'd been so scared anything would happen to Nina and I that he locked us up.

"He'd been taken by someone his family trusted, for money, and Damian and I found him one night when we were making a deal for some guns." I glanced down at my food as he talked, smelling the deliciousness, making my stomach rumble. "Kids have no place on this side of the city, so we called off the deal and took the kid home."

I looked up. "Just like that?" I questioned. "You just took him home?"

"Well, it sounds better if I leave out the bullets and blood and knives." He grinned at me, like he was having fun telling me about it.

He was a psychopath.

That was what was wrong with him. That was what was wrong with all of the mafia men, even the two who raised me. And that was why I couldn't let myself fall even more for his charming smile, his cute dimples and those bright eyes.

Or his handsome, chiseled face. His long, elegant fingers. Or his silky smooth voice that darkened ever so slightly when he lowered it.

"I'm sorry." James reached over the table to rub his fingers across my hand, and as my focus shifted from appreciating his beauty, I saw his smile had softened. "I never wanted to upset you, Elina. I just want to know you, and treat you the way you deserve."

"You didn't upset me," I said, taking another large sip—more like gulp—of wine. Then I sat the empty glass down and looked at him. "I know what you do, James, and I think it's scary, but you couldn't upset me," I said, and I nodded towards my empty glass once, making him quickly move to fill it up again. I smiled, biting my lip as I wanted to think through what I'd say next. "I've experienced my father come home bloody and beaten more times than I can count. I've lived inside a fish bowl, so to say, and witnessed brutality you've probably been a part of. So no, you didn't upset me, James."