Omerta- Book I (Winner of the 2015 People's Choice Award)

7) Cake

I took a half-full wine glass off of someone else’s table and chugged it down. I then cleared my throat loudly as I sat in front of Ferro, making myself known.

“You lied to me before. About me screaming your name while I used my v!ibrator. I didn’t know your name, so don’t flatter yourself into thinking I f*cked myself to the image of you.”

            Bold, thy name was Scarlett.

           

Those sexual dark eyes slowly slid to me. He appeared irritated but didn’t respond. His wine glass was empty again. I wondered if he was planning on getting really drunk.

My courage slightly cracked, but I kept a straight face. “You know, I don’t understand what your angle is, Ferro.” I was struggling to keep eye contact with a man who was glaring at me. “You made it pretty clear that you didn’t like me before, and then that—“

            “I still don’t like you,” he said, and he meant it, believe me. And because-- for whatever reason--I expected a corny ‘I love you’ after he said that, I would soon be utterly shocked by his actual response. “Your ex fuckboy now thinks that you’ve moved on, which means I have one less person to worry about snooping around once I put a bullet in your skull and make you disappear.”

“Linguine all’aragosta o aall’astice.” Our waiter arrived at the perfect time and placed a plate of fresh lobster, linguini, garlic, tomatoes, and olive oil for Ferro and me. The smell was intoxicating, surely mouthwateringly delicious. I was certain it would be the best meal I would ever eat in my life. However, I was too nauseated to even consider taking a single bite.

He was still planning on killing me.

The waiter left after filling our wine and our water, and once again, Ferro and me were alone. The world simply melted away…leaving me to a slow and painful death amongst my own personal kiddy pool of molten hot Ferro lava.

Ferro twirled a bit of pasta onto his fork in the most graceful way I had ever seen a man—anyone-- twirl a fork, and then brought the goodness to his mouth. I watched the food travel past his full lips and into his mouth, which had moments before caused the swollen, soon-to-be-hickey on the side of my neck. His sharp, luscious jawline worked the mouthful of food and his Adam’s apple bobbed deliciously as he swallowed.

This man was pure, raw sex. God was against me. Ferro was a murderer. He was dangerous

. He was an ass.

 I wanted to sit on his face and grind myself into his mouth.

Jesus Christ.

I chugged down the rest of my wine, willing my dirty thoughts away.

“Go fuck yourself,” I suddenly said, feeling the alcohol finally take its effects on me.

Ferro paused, then placed his utensils down and wiped his mouth. He leaned back in his seat and watched me. “Excuse me?”