Acquaintances (A Mafia Romance)

Five.

Rebecca Caruso

"Oh no, I really can't," I protested, though the grin tugging at my lips betrayed my resolve. "I'm way past my limit for the night."

"Come on, just one more. I swear, last one," Marco coaxed, his eyes glinting with playful insistence as Eve placed fresh glasses in front of us. "I've never had a real drinking partner before. Feels nice."

I sighed, guilt mixing with amusement as I caved. Persuasive arguments had always been my weakness. "Alright, just one more," I relented, lifting the glass with a reluctant smile.

"I promise," he said, holding his glass up. Without much hesitation, we clinked them together and downed the drinks, the buzz settling in like a warm blanket as laughter bubbled between us.

"Now, I know I shouldn't meddle," Marco began, swirling the ice in his glass before taking a sip of water, "but I have two older sisters—one is married, one was married."

I raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Was married?"

He chuckled softly, giving me a knowing look. "One's divorced, the other's still happily hitched. But between the two of them...I think I've cracked the code."

"Oh, really?" I said, leaning in slightly. "And what exactly is this so-called secret?"

He nodded, his tone taking on that familiar hint of mischief, but there was something sincere beneath it. "Well, I've watched their relationships go through every stage—honeymoon phase, rough patches, the whole nine yards. And you know what? The real key to making it work isn't what you'd expect."

I couldn't help but laugh, more from the anticipation than disbelief. "Okay, enlighten me, Marco the relationship expert. What is it?"

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice like we were trading secrets. "The secret... is to go with your gut."

I burst into laughter, feeling the fiery aftermath of our last shot wreak havoc on my insides like a terrible case of acid reflux. It was a harsh reminder that I had reached my alcohol limit for the night.

"What's so funny?" Marco asked.

"Maybe you're onto something," I mused, still laughing. "But seriously, 'go with your gut'? That's like me saying, 'Avoid blondes with too much filler,'" I teased, nodding toward a rowdy group of bachelorettes nearby, their veil-wearing leader mid-selfie frenzy.

Marco's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Those are my best clients," he said, chuckling. "Besides, that's why I'm here with you."

I couldn't help but smirk. "Is that your way of flirting, Mr. Relationship Expert?"

He leaned in just a little, his gaze lingering on mine with a steady intensity. "If I were flirting," he said, his voice dropping, "you'd know."

A flicker of heat rose between us, and I felt my pulse quicken. Guilt twisted in my gut, reminding me I shouldn't be enjoying this. "Would I?" I tried to sound casual, but my voice wavered slightly.

Marco didn't miss a beat, his gaze never faltering. "Yeah. You would."

Feeling the tension, I quickly looked away, desperate for a distraction. "Hey, wait! Is that...?" My eyes locked onto the stage, seizing the moment. The rhythm struck a familiar chord, pulling my attention away from him. "Are they actually playing a jazz version of a System of a Down song?"

"Yup!" Marco and I swiveled our bar stools to face the stage. "They're called The Whipper Snappers, and they specialize in incredible alternative song covers. Want to get a closer listen?"