His Mafia Queen

Possession

"Miss? Would you like anything special to start with?"

I look up from the menu. "Ahh..."

The waiter winks at me. Oh dear. That's weird. Did Gabriel see that? I look at him and spot the corner of his jaw twitching. Apparently he did.

"We're fine for now. Please come back in a few moments to take our dinner orders," Gabriel says in a clipped voice.

My chest tightens a little as I stare at him. The waiter nods and walks away.

Gabriel smiles tightly. "What?"

"Nothing." I turn back to the menu, trying to decide if Gabriel's possessiveness is annoying or hot. A bit of both, truthfully. "What are you getting for dinner?"

"Definitely the ravioli."

"Hmm. I was thinking about that, too." Mostly because I'm not sure what a lot of the stuff on the menu actually is. "What is agnolotti? And gemelli?"

Gabriel explains the Italian food terms on the menu, and I decide on a beef Bolognese pasta, with the agnolotti (which is apparently similar to ravioli).

The waiter returns with our wine, and smiles at me but not Gabriel, who clears his throat then glares at the guy. I have to admit, no waiter has ever flirted with me like this one has, so I can sort of understand Gabriel's annoyance.

After taking our order — and winking at me again — the waiter walks off. Probably because my father would fly off the handle in a millisecond and I'd learned to try to placate angry men from that, I immediately start talking before Gabriel has a chance to complain about the waiter.

"This isn't my usual mid-week routine, you know. Normally I'd be home. This is usually my night for staying up late, because I don't have to be in the office until three tomorrow."

"How come?" Gabriel tilts his head, curious.

"I work the three-to-midnight shift. That's when I usually go ride around with the cops and try to get interesting stories and information." My shoulders sag a little. "No more of that after tomorrow, though. I'll be on the features beat."

Gabriel nods, then folds the napkin on his lap in thirds and places it on the table. "Excuse me. I'll be right back."

He leans over and kisses me on the forehead, then walks away. Maybe he has to make a phone call. I amuse myself by creating little stories in my head about one beautiful couple who walks in. They're both in their mid-thirties, which is interesting because it seems like most of the couples here have large age gaps. Bigger than my ten years with Gabriel, even.

The couple I'm studying are laughing a lot, and I concoct a story in my mind about how they met at a comedy club. She was probably onstage doing standup, and he was a...dishwasher.

I feel a hand on my back and I jump.

"I didn't mean to startle you," Gabriel says.

I relax into my chair. "No, I was zoning out. You okay?"

Gabriel nods and grins. "More than okay."

"I figured you needed to make a call, or you were getting our waiter fired." I look at Gabriel through my lashes and subtly flirt with him.

He tips his head back and laughs. "I thought about it, but no. Figured it would make you uncomfortable if I did that."

"See, you're learning." I lean in and hold his hand.

"You gotta admit, it's terrible business for the waiter to flirt with a man's date. And," he sets down his glass, "I don't like to see any man coming on to you. I'm not going to apologize for it, that's just who I am. Much like the thing we discussed on the jet, it's something you're going to have to get used to."