CIAO, TIGROTTAS!
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Ferro and I eventually calmed down from our passionate tongue on tongue session in the limo and exited the vehicle. I stepped out into the cold first, flowers in hand, and then Ferro came out after me with a big smirk on his face. When we made eye contact, we both laughed, and then I awkwardly turned my head and pressed my fingers against my swollen lips.
With my back to Ferro, I tilted my head up at the familiar cozy Italian restaurant in front of us, and my mouth hung open a little in shock.
"Here we are, candy," Ferro said, stepping up next to me on the curb and draping suit jacket over my shoulders. "The best Italian food you'll ever have."
Déjà vu to the max.
I looked up at Ferro, fighting back laughter. "This is that restaurant that you took me to a while back... Except, I was at gunpoint."
"Not exactly the entire time, tigrotta," Ferro defended, his tone teasing and a smirk pulling at his lips. "I kept the gun on me and insinuated that I would use force, yes?"
"And you threatened to have sex with me in front of everyone in the restaurant if I disobeyed," I added.
"I tend to forget my manners around you."
"Now that is very true. Also, if I recall correctly," I continued, "this restaurant is also where you called my ex boyfriend in the hallway. You know, by the bathrooms and that nice painting..." Ferro was watching me intently, and when I became aware of it, the rest of the sentence trailed off into nervous laughter at the ground. Stop that! You're supposed to be letting him woo you! Act uninterested!
"Tigrotta, consider this date a replay of that 'date'." Ferro put his fingers under my chin and tilted my gaze up and away from the ground. "Except this time, I'm not going to let you run away from me." He lowered his voice to Rough and Dirty mode. "And this time, if there's going to be any playtime, nobody will be on the phone with us, and I won't be touching you over your pants." His dark eyes flickered with delight. "I'd be a little crueler."
The coldness deserted me as my face heated up like an Icy Hot pack. "And there he is again, Ferro La Morte. He's poked through from time to time today, but I was getting a little worried this shave would get rid of him entirely."
"Har-har." Ferro gathered my hands and brought them to his warm, soft mouth for a kiss. "Why are we still standing out here? You're freezing. Come, let's go eat." Ferro put an arm around me and ushered me forward.
The inside of the restaurant brought a wave of nostalgia of warmth and the aroma of different foods. There was a small, decorated Christmas tree as we walked in, and golden ornaments hung from the ceiling.
"Ciao, Mr. La Morte!" The same nervous man in a tuxedo quickly made his way to us. We walked further into the restaurant. He spoke quickly, as if he was afraid he wouldn't get all of his words out. "It's so nice to see you again! We received your check for all the—er—chaos from your...previous rendezvous with this young lady. And I sent Fico the protection money last Tuesday, yes—?"
Ferro clasped the Nervous Man on the shoulder. "Federico, relax. I am not here on business, nor am I aware of any late payments. I'm here for my lunch reservation. We'd like a booth in the back."
Nervous Man inhaled a large, calm breath. "Oh." His skin color went from a deathly, oxygen-deprived purple, to a more pallid shade. "Yes, of course. Yes, follow me."
Ferro and I scooted into the same soft leather booth that we'd slipped into the last time we were at the restaurant. We sat across from each other, which seemed a lot less intimate, but I didn't say anything. I was starting to get shy again and cursed myself.
"Wine?" the waiter asked both of us.
"No thank you," Ferro said. I analyzed his profile as he turned his head to our waiter. "Just water for me." I wanted to kiss that smooth, carved jaw. I wanted to kiss everything, on him, the more I was thinking about. Stop it. He has to prove himself to you.
And holy water for me.
"And for you, Miss?"
"Do you have Shirley Temples here? No alcohol, please."
The waiter laughed. "They are not on the drink menu, but we can make you one," the waiter said.
"I'll have one of those, too," Ferro added, a smile pulling at mouth. His dark gaze slid to me, and I noticed a little cynical smile dancing on those sensual lips. I could tell he thought my drink order was cute, without him even saying it. "Would you like me to order for you now, tigrotta? Or do you want to look over the menu?"
"Order what we didn't eat last time," I said, and then teased him. "So we can't order any of that cake that you slipped on."
"So funny." He narrowed his eyes at me, before returning to the waiter. "We'll both be ordering Linguine all'aragosta o aall'astice. Salad and bread on the side." He added something else in Italian, and then winked at me.
"Of course, Mr. La Morte." The waiter collected our menus and left.
"What was that last thing you said to him in Italian, you sneaky bastard?" I asked. "You totally just talked smack behind my back!"
He didn't even deny it. "What are you going to do about it?"
"I could throw pasta at you again?" I quipped.
He stuck his tongue out at me.
"Oh, you little..." I trailed off.
Ferro scooted into the middle of the booth and inclined his finger towards himself, beckoning my closer. His eyes were wicked, and I knew his attentions would be too.
"Come here, bella. If I wanted to sit across from you, we would have sat at table, yes?"
"We sat across from each other the last time we were here," I reminded him.
Ferro leaned back in the booth, watching me intently. "Then I'll stare at you until you come over here."
I leaned forward and stared back at him, cupping my chin in my hands "This is nothing new. You always stare at me."
"Beauty is always worth staring at."
"Oh, gag me. Did you get that from Tumblr or WeHeartIt?"
"What is Tumblr? We heart what?"
"You need to get out more, Linguini."
Ferro chuckled and leaned forward on the table, mimicking my position. "I have a secret to tell you."
"Oh, do you now?"
"Yes, but you have to come closer to me." He patted the spot on the booth next to him and was grinning now. "And you have to compliment me. But don't compliment my dîck because I already knows how much you like it."
"And there he is," I said. "We've sat down for five minutes, and you're already eager to do the nasty? Five minutes. That must be a new record."
"It is. But if you don't like it, I will stop," he said earnestly.
"Maybe I do like it." I bit down on my fingertip, and those block eyes trained on my mouth.
"Then I'll never stop," Ferro said, and his right eyebrow arched a little before he looked away from my nibbling. "At first, I wanted you to sit next to me because I wanted to kiss you." He casually gestured with his hands. "But now you've put thoughts into my head, tigrotta. I apologize for anything that comes out of this mouth from hereon out."
"There never is any stopping your mouth, when you're with me."
He snickered. "That's because there's a lot I want to do with my mouth, around you."
I looked down at his sensual lips. Suddenly, I was sitting on my apartment counter with my legs wrapped around his head. My face grew hot, and I felt forced to look away from him. If things didn't start to cool down between Ferro and I, we wouldn't make it to the main course.
"I..." I cleared my throat. "I, um—"
Ferro struck like a wild animal, grabbing me by the inside of my thigh and sliding me across the booth to him. I would have let out a squeal, but his mouth suppressed my cry and his lips claimed mine in a deprived kiss. His clean cologne made me melt into him, and the minty taste of his mouth and the heat of his body made my head spin.
Ferro pulled back a little and flicked his tongue out to slowly lick my lips. I let out a low moan. He moved his mouth to my neck and kissed me there, growling lowly, like a fiend. He buried his face against my skin for a moment, and then kissed a spot right below my ear.
Suddenly, Ferro's hand, which was resting on the inside of my thigh, squeezed me a little. He pulled back sharply, his chest heaving, and looked away from me.
"What's wrong?" I asked. Was I not a good kisser?
"Nothing is wrong, tigrotta." His voice was rough and deeper than usual, and that hand on my thigh remained. "I'm just trying really hard not to sling you over my shoulder right now and have my way with you in the bathroom."
In that moment, I was as blistering hot as a marshmallow thrown into bon fire.
"Oh," I squeaked out. For a moment, that actually sounded like a really great, really unhygienic idea. I mean, it's a much better idea than letting him almost fück you in the hallway again...
But before I could reply to Ferro, our waiter appeared with water and Shirley Temples. Ferro and I broke apart slightly. The sexual tension was suppresse. The waiter set down our drinks and left. Another man came directly after our waiter and collected my red roses on the table, putting them into a vase in front of Ferro and I. He lit the two candles at the table as well, and left. The waiter returned again with salads and warm bread.
"Oooh!" I could smell the cheese and herbs from the bread and realized how hungry I was. I dove in; taking one of the small loafs of bread and ripping it to shreds on my plate like the Wolverine. I scoped some butter off of the small plate at the center of the table and lathered the pieces up. The first bite tasted like heaven on earth. I dug into my salad as well.
Realizing that I was being a total pig, I turned to Ferro and intended to apologize. But he was distracted. While I'd been wolfing down my bread, Ferro had been completely engrossed in his Shirley Temple. So much so that he was hovering over the glass staring down into the drink.
"I don't like this," he muttered. "It's too... bubbly."
"What?" I asked, suppressing a laugh. "You've never had a Shirley Temple?"
"I ordered it because you ordered it." He frowned at the glass. "It sounded...fun."
"It's just ginger ale and a splash of red grenadine syrup, Ferro."
"I didn't know it would be bubbly." He scrunched up his face and pushed the glass towards me. "No."
I pushed the glass back. "Come on, take a sip! You'll it." When he didn't budge, I pouted. "For me? It's my favorite drink ever."
Tentatively, and with a sour face, Ferro brought his lips to the straw and pulled in a teeny tiny amount. He smacked his lips together a few times, tasting it, and looked at me with big doe eyes.
I rubbed Ferro's shoulder, as if he'd just gotten a shot at the doctors and had been freaking out. "See, that wasn't so bad! Did you like it?"
"Sì," Ferro decided and took another sip. "It tastes like cherry."
"Someone needs a little push to try new things, huh?" I teased.
"Pretty much," Ferro admitted. "Unless it's pasta, gelato, a new Mario game, or liquor, I normally need a little push."
I burst out laughing. "Did you just make fun of your own culture? That's my job!"
"I agree it is your job." Ferro plucked a maraschino cherry out of his drink and tugged it off the stem with his teeth. He chewed as I sipped my sugary drink. "I want to know more about you, tigrotta."
"Like what?" I figured he would ask something extremely inappropriate, like question whether or not I have any anàl bead fantasies.
"What's your favorite movie?" Ferro asked. "Your second favorite, since I already know your first."
"Tangled."
He ran a hand through his hair. "What's Tangled?"
"It's an animated Disney movie about Rapunzel."
"Oh." He flushed a little. "I thought you were talking about my hair." We laughed at that. "I haven't watched any recent animation films. Is it funny?"
"It's hilarious. My favorite character is the chameleon." I let out a timid laugh, stirring my drink with my straw. "I know all the words to the songs..." I sighed. "You know, when I was little, I was set on becoming a famous singer."
"You can sing?"
My face grew hot. "I mean, kinda. I'm no Alicia Keys."
Ferro's features lit up. "I want to hear your voice."
"No, no, no, no."
"Yes, yes, yes, and yes, you will sing for me," he mocked in my voice. His brief attempt at my American accent was shockingly good, when he really tried.
"Not happening."
"We should watch this 'Tangled' movie later."
Under the intensity of his stare, I found myself looking back at my drink again and stirring. Why did he have to look at me like that, all dark-eyed and sexy, sitting so close to me?
"I'll watch it with you," I finally said. But if it were going to be anything like the notorious "Netflix date", I knew for a fact we wouldn't be doing much movie watching.
Our water returned with our food. A mix of aromas filled my nose and my taste buds went wild after my first twirl of pasta. Lobster, linguini, garlic, tomatoes, spices, and olive oil. I'd eaten at fancy restaurants before, but twirling pasta onto a fork was certainly not my forte. And of course, Ferro was a master at it, and wasn't getting a single piece of sauce on him or making a mess.
"Shit." I wet my napkin and wiped at a bit of sauce on my leggings.
"You almost got it," Ferro laughed out, wiping at his mouth with his napkin. "You might want to try leaning closer to the plate when you bring the fork to your mouth, yes?
"Yes, Daddy," I said sarcastically.
Ferro snorted. "That's fücked up."
I'll be honest; I was getting slightly bitter over the fact that I was now having trouble naturally striking up a normal conversation with Ferro. He was one of those suave, easygoing men that created conversation naturally. But when he ate, I noticed he didn't talk much.
He didn't seem to mind the silence between us, whereas I was feeling awkward and cooking like a goose roosting on top of a firecracker.
"You're fidgeting." Ferro reached out and grabbed my hand—the one that was stirring the straw in my Shirley Temple again, and brought it to his mouth, where he held it for a kiss. "Why are you fidgeting, tigrotta?"
Why are you fidgeting, tigrotta? Why are you fidgeting, TIGROTTA?!?!?!?!?!?!
"Really!?" I asked, much louder than I intended it. Also, it had been out loud, which I also hadn't intended. I'd been doing a good job so far, but that one got me. "What kind of question is that, Ferro? You're fücking hot as hell, for starters. Like, unbelievably hot." I looked at his dress shirt, following the strained sleeves around his biceps all the way down to his leather shoes. "So hot, that if I was a massive slüt, which I really wish I was righ tnow, I'd be fücking you righ here, right now, in positions that it'd leave a virgin Shirley Temple aftertaste in your mouth."
Ferro boomed with laughter and leaned back against the booth. "I definitely like where this is going, Scarlett. Anything else on your mind?"
I spoke so fast that I could have been one of those speakers at the end of a commercial that rapidly announce all the different ways you could die from the product that was just displayed.
"Well, the fact that you're planning on murdering my ex boyfriend's father is swimming a little in my pool of endless thoughts," I continued. "And there's also the fact you're kind of a sadist, masochist, self-obsessed, kidnapper."
"And lover," Ferro chimed in,
"Not to mention," I continued, lowering my voice, "You're a freaking hit man, god damn it. You kill people." I held my fingers up like a gun and recoiled. "Pew-pew!" I threw my head back, pretending to be dead. Then I opened my eyes and sat up ."Like that, except probably with a machine guns—!
"Sniper," Ferro corrected. "I'm a marksman. And that was a awe-wonderful interpretation, tigrotta."
I glared. "Did I say you could interrupt me while I'm venting?"
"I'm sorry, baby," Ferro said. He kissed my cheek, and then ran his hand slowly up and down my leg until I stopped glaring. "Please, continue with your frustrations."
"As I was saying," I started up again, trying to ignore the way his thumb was caressing the inside of my palm. "I know how loyal, and gentle, and sweet you can be. I know that this date and this "new you" is a part of you and what you're capable of, but I–goddamn it–I can't stand it. I can't stand it when you're sweet like this. I start thinking about weddings and babies when you act all gentle, romantic, and caring! All that girly shît that I know men don't want to hear on the first date, but women are thinking! But how am I even thinking these things, when you threatened to cut my pinkies off before! Does that seem sane to you?" At some point, I started cry and blindly grabbed the empty bread bowl on the table. "Damn it. I want more bread, but I freaking ate all of it!"
"Scarlett." He gathered my hands in his, his features locked in place, and his voice solemn. "Tigrotta, I never want to hurt you ever again. You have to believe that."
Ferro looked at me for a moment, with slightly wide eyes, as if he'd forgotten how to speak because of me. Carefully, he grabbed my face with his hands, moving his thumbs over my cheeks to dry them.
"Your happiness is so important to me," Ferro said, and his eyes suddenly filled with sadness. "I'd do anything to make you happy. But I can't change certain things about me. About us. I can't change the way that I treated you in the past, or my past in general. But if I could, I would change so many things for you to be happy. I can't walk up to Fico and say, 'I'm done," leave the mafia. I guess what I'm trying to say is that if you can't be genuinely happy with me for what I am right now... If you can't love the man in front of you for what I am..." He slid his hands down to my neck, then back up to my jaw, in a slow caress. "Then I'll let you go. If you truly don't want to try and be with someone as damaged as me, then I'll find a way to let you go."
"Stop it."
"Stop what?"
"Stop being so fücking perfect, god damn it! And...nice!"
"You don't want me to be nice?"
"No, because I like when you're mean, too!"
He kissed me. "Tigrotta, sometimes you confuse the hell out of me. What can I do to make you relax?"
Well, for starters, we can take a trip to the bathroom—
Unhygenic. Unhygenic. Unhygenic.
"There are just so many unanswered questions, Ferro." I cupped my hands over his on either side of my head, and slid his fingers down, until I held and held his hands into my lap. "What will happen to you, if Gasparo realizes you're still on Fico's side? How many people have you killed? What happened to your family, when you went to Assassin High? Do you even have a family? What's the deal with you and Orlando? Why is your name so long? Why must you look so good in a suit? How the hell am I going to fit Dragon between my legs, when losing my virginity yesterday felt like a car jack pried my vàgina wide open? Are you Christian Grey's evil twin? Is God against me? Will I fall asleep next to you one night, and you'll start praying in your sleep to Lucifer the Almighty? Is there a self-remedy for Stockholm Syndrome? Does Mean Ferro like anàl? Why did I question that out loud? Why did I ask any of that out loud?"
I abandoned Ferro's hands in my lap and reached over on the table.
"I think these candles have drugs in them." I brought one of them to my nose, sniffed, then to his. He reeled back, before I accidently caught him on fire. "Does this smell like any drug to you? Don't let the vanilla fool you. I'm totally trippin' right now. And my eyes won't stop tearing..."
"Shh, let's put the fire down, baby, before you hurt yourself." Ferro grabbed me gently by the wrists and together we placed the candle back down on the table. "How about we narrow down those questions, yes?"
I sniffed. "Ok."
"First, blow your nose, and you sip some water." Ferro held his napkin to my nose and I blew. He wiped my nose clean and tossed the napkin to the end of our table. He then grabbed my drink and held the straw to my lips and sipped. "Finish the glass so you don't get a headache," he ordered. I sipped until I hit air and ice. "My father was Alessandro La Morte." Ferro began, playing absently with a pom-pom on my sweater. "For about ten years, he was involved in a mafia family called Angeli Cuare Della Notte: Dead Angels of the Night. He smuggled drugs into Italy and provided for my family this way. Mio mamma, Faustina La Morte, always stayed at home with my little brother, Vincenza and I. My brother was three years younger than I, and used to follow me around everywhere I went. I remember being so annoyed by that. He looked up to me though, you know?" Ferro turned towards me a little more in the booth, and rested his head against the soft leather so that he was facing me. He looked angry, staring off into some memory. "When my brother was born, money started to get a little tight. Then my mother became sick when I was ten, and her medication was expensive. I was obviously too young to work, so to make ends meet, my father began to work longer hours. "I came home late one day, after hanging out with friends...and my father was lying facedown in the kitchen with the back of his head blown away. My mother's illness kept her bedridden. She'd been shot as well, right where she lay." Ferro blinked past tears and at that point, I was holding back a sob. "My brother somehow managed to escape the house and escaped the shooter. I'd blacked out after seeing my mother and father's dead body. I was thirteen years old. It wasn't the mafia. It was just piss-poor luck. It was just a burglary. Some psychopath had broken into other house in the neighborhood had entered my home, stole my mother's medication and our valuables, and killed my family. Just because. And a few days later, it was in the papers that the psychopath had killed himself. He'd destroyed my life, my childhood, and then left me with nobody blame."
"God, that's fücking awful." I leaned my head against him. "I'm so sorry, Ferro."
"I know you are, fiorella. You have such a big heart."
"Where did you live after that happened?" I asked. "Didn't you say that you lived on the streets? And what happened to your brother?"
"I would have lived with my nonna, had I not run away. I'd been so traumatized, that I'd slipped out into the night a few days after the events at my home and wondered the streets, looking for my brother. And I did that, until one day, a man threw me into his car in broad daylight, and I was taken into Tra La Ombre. As for my brother...I told Gina he was dead because it's easier for me to accept that. Four years ago, I hired select investigators to try and track him down. According to what they dug up, it's recorded in Sicily that Vince La Morte, my little brother, never existed. Someone took the time and energy to wipe his name completely from the system. And that could mean that he was trafficked, or worse..."
"Worse...?"
"People don't just get wiped out of the system," Ferro explained, slowly rubbing circles into my palm with his thumb. "I don't want to know what he's done if he had to be removed from the system. I'd rather accept that he's dead and remember the little boy who idolized me."
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NOTE:
DON'T WORRY, THIS SEX BUILD UP WILL BE WORTH THE WAIT! UNFORTUNATELY FOR ALL OF US, I HAVE TO PACE THE STORY THE WAY I ENVISION IT, OR ELSE I GET WRITERS BLOCK. TRUST ME, NOBODY WANTS SEXY TIME MORE THAN ME RN.
HAHAHAHHAAHA... *sigh*
xoxo
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If you haven't joined the Omertà group by now or started reading BORGATA, your ovaries are seriously missing out.
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