“Okay. I apologize, piccola ladra. As I have said before, I would rather have you in private than not at all.” He leans forward and kisses my forehead. “Let's finish our meals. They are already cooling.”
We go back to eating, speaking conversationally with surface level topics for the rest of our meals and through dessert. We smile, and laugh, touch, and kiss, but I can’t help but to hear the little voice in the back of my mind that tells me the night’s already been ruined.
Chapter 29
Sly
Pushing open the door to Vincenza’s office building, I walk in with confidence, completely ignoring the risk of being here. My helmet is on, concealing my entire face, but I still scan the room as though I may run into a member of her family.
The woman at reception greets me with a warm smile, her curly hair sitting on top of her head in a wild bun. “Good afternoon, sir. Who are you here to see?”
“I’m just dropping this off for Ms. Vinnie Paladino,” I say in my best American accent, throwing my voice. “Please make sure she gets it before she leaves for the day.”
Reaching over the counter, I hand her a full-face helmet. Her eyes widen as she takes it from me, purposely brushing her fingers against my leather gloves.
“With pleasure, sir. Does she know to expect it?”
My head bobs in a nod. “She should, yes.”
“Very well then.” She grabs a sticky note and jots Vinnie’s name down on it, pressing the paper against the top of the helmet before she sets it aside.
“Gra—thank you.” Turning on my heel, I leave and head back to where I parked my Ducati half of a block north of here.
Checking my watch, I confirm I have about fifteen minutes before Vinnie should be down.
We’d agreed last night at dinner to meet at two the next afternoon. The place I want to take her is a bit of a drive outside of the city, and with the sun setting so early now, we’ll be on borrowed time.
After a few minutes of people watching, Vinnie walks out of her building, and immediately I can’t take my eyes off her.
Everything from her smile to her outfit, and the way she carries my spare helmet under her arm like she was born to ride, sends me into a frenzy that I force myself to conceal, but I can feel my cock lengthening behind my black jeans.
She’s wearing a tight black turtleneck that has a cutout above her breasts, displaying them just enough for me to appreciate her figure, with a black leather jacket for warmth. Her skirt is a black-and-white pattern that flows around her and reaches mid-calf, covering her boots, which perhaps are the same ones she wore last night. Her hair is twisted back, but when she sees me she reaches behind her and unclips it, allowing the dark brown wavy tendrils to fall as sheshakes them out, attaching the clip to the strap of her purse.
My eyes rake over her appreciatively, although she can’t see it from behind the helmet I never removed.
“Hi,” she says when she stops in front of me, reaching for my hand and squeezing it.
“You look absolutely fantastic, piccola ladra. Put your helmet on—I have a surprise for you.” I know my voice is muffled, so I speak louder than necessary.
She pulls her helmet over her head, adjusting it once it's on so it fits comfortably, then follows me to the bike, climbing on after I do. Scooting her hips forward, she presses her front into my back, turning her head so it rests against me. Once I feel her tight grip, I know she’s ready.
The Ducati roars to life, and with a quick glance over my shoulder, we take off. Even over the noise, I hear her squeal behind me.
As we gain momentum, swerving through the midday traffic, her arms tighten around my midsection.
There’s an accident on the freeway that delays us as we leave the city, heading toward Staten Island, but we make it to our destination in just under an hour.
Pulling off onto a dirt road, I pick up speed in an attempt to avoid the cloud of dust we kick up, until we make it to a small make-shift parking lot. I stabilize the motorcycle and climb off before helping Vinnie down. We both peel off our helmets, and I take hers from her, setting both down on the seats of the bike.
“Where are we?” she asks, looking around. There’san old sign that hangs off a square wooden archway, and just past it, a small house that acts as a ticket stand. “Gillespie Farms?”
“Sì,” I say with a smirk. Reaching down, I lace our fingers together and lead her over to it.
When we arrive at the window, an older woman sits on a stool, knitting with bright green yarn. She’s deep in concentration and doesn’t notice us, so I knock gently against the glass.
“Oh, great Heavens!” she startles, looking up with wide eyes. “I didn’t see you there!” Placing her project down, she hops from the stool and closes the distance to the window, pushing it open further. “Hello! Welcome. Are you the Lucchettis?”
I glance at Vinnie, who looks down at the floor with a faint smile on her lips at the woman’s assumption.
