Page 43 of Fatal Sloth
Outside, Yusuf and Daren are already waiting in the car, their expressions stern as usual. I slip into the backseat, feeling the cool leather against my skin and catching a whiff of Yusuf's cologne. The ride to the restaurant passes quickly, with the sound of traffic blending into the background.
When we arrive at Marcos, I'm the first to step out, greeted by the warm breeze and the bustling energy of the restaurant. With Cameron's reservation in mind, I inform the hostess of his name and follow her to our table. As the waiter comes over, I quickly order drinks, expecting Cameron to show up any minute. But as time passes and he's still nowhere in sight, a sense of unease creeps in. He's never late like this. I start to wonder what could be holding him up. Maybe the rideshare hit some traffic or had a problem. Trying to calm my nerves, I cling to that possibility, but deep down, I can't shake off the worry.
Almost fifteen minutes pass, and Cameron still hasn't shown up. It's not like him to be late or bail on plans, so I decide to give him a call, feeling uneasy.
The first call goes straight to voicemail, sending a shiver down my spine. After a couple more tries, he finally picks up, but his voice sounds strange, not like his usual self.
"Hey, where are you?" I blurt out before he has a chance to speak.
"That's today?" he responds, surprisingly.
"Are you serious? We've been talking about meeting since yesterday. You know it's today," I retort.
"I know, and I'm sorry, but I won't be able to make it. Rain Check?" he asks, sounding genuinely sorry.
"Are you okay, Cam?" It isn't like him to just bail on plans.
"Perfectly, just caught up in something. I'll make it up to you, I promise," he assures.
"You better make it up to me. And when you do, I want details on whatever you're caught in." I playfully demand. He chuckles before ending the call. Well, this was a bust. I guess I'll order something to go and head back to the mansion.
“Not two days in a row?” comes a familiar voice.
Looking up, I see Nico standing near the table where I’m seated. I smile at him.
This is an odd surprise.
"Are you here alone?" he asks.
"I am. I had plans with a friend, but they fell through. I was just about to order takeout and head home," I explain. "What brings you here?" I ask.
"Since our conversation about Marcos yesterday, I've been craving the Puttanesca here, so here I am. But if you’re flying solo, please join me," he suggests.
"I appreciate the offer, but I wouldn't want to intrude on your lunch. I'll just grab my food to go," I insist.
"Nonsense, it’s my treat. Join me, please," he insists, with a friendly smile.
His eyes hold a different kind of eeriness, but I'm not one to probe. While I hadn't planned on joining Nico for lunch, he's one of the few who sees me beyond just being Mrs. Morelli. So, reluctantly, I agree, not wanting to be rude to one of the few people I can speak to. With a hesitant nod, I motion for him to take a seat beside me.
He settles into the seat with a smug smile as the waiter appears. Nico makes a few suggestions of what to try. But in the end, I decide on the Panzanella Salad. As the waiter walks away, I make a mental note to ask if they have any Torta Caprese when he returns.
I would love to surprise Sebastiano with a slice. And, out of curiosity, I wonder if my version can stand up to theirs.
From the corner of my eye, I catch the waiter returning with our food, offering a welcome distraction from the slightly awkward vibe with Nico. Despite his friendly chatter, there's a strange tension hanging in the air that I can't shake off, making it hard to eat. The food is delicious, but my appetite seems to have vanished.
After pushing my food around on the plate for a while, I decide to box up the rest to take home and order their clam linguine for Sebastiano and two slices of Torta Caprese, one for each of us.
When the additional orders are placed beside me, I reach for the check to settle the bill and head out. However, true to his gentlemanly ways, Nico insists on paying, earning me a disapproving glance from Daren. That look gives me an uneasy feeling in the pit of my belly throughout the car ride home. And when I walk in the front door, I come face to face with the beast himself.
26
Sebastiano
I gulp my coffee, letting the hot liquid burn my throat as I observe the scene before me. The table is set with fine china. China, which I didn't know I owned, and fresh flowers that mirror those from dinner from last night. A faint smirk plays on my lips as Marie continues to bring out a few more dishes. She's always a step ahead and knows everything—a damn good asset in my world.
I'm not one for romantic shit, and I sure as hell didn't plan the outdoor breakfast on the terrace. But the look on la piccola ballerina's face was everything I needed to play along, like it was my idea. Who would have thought the ruthless Don Morelli would be the man aiming to bring happiness to his wife?
Just as Mia approaches the table, looking fine as ever in a blue dress that hugs her curves in all the right spots, the memory from last night plays in my mind, and picturing Mia's legs wrapped around me makes my dick instantly hard.