Mated to the Mafioso

[ 7 ] - Just a Meal

[ A N D R E A ]

The guy says yes, because of course he does, looking back at me. I know what that look means: go along with it. Yeah, no—I scowl, open my mouth, about to protest—but he steps back, towards me, and drapes an arm across my shoulders. I flinch; my fingers twitch. I bite my tongue. I suppress the change, the shudder.

"I just arrived late to see, uh—" he turns toward me, dark gaze flitting across my face, probably searching for a name. I give him nothing but a glare. "—Sofia here."

"Correct. Sofia and..." I lean forward, search his face now. Slightly pointed, strong nose, flat brows, dark shadow of facial hair growing in. Lips that aren't thick or thin, with a pointed cupid's bow above. His lashes are long, eyes deep-set, shadowed. I can't tell the color with the shifting club lights. His eyes are gentle. I've seen people like him before, stolen those features—the strong nose, the scruff, the angled jaw. I swear I've seen him before. I know I have. I don't forget faces. I study them, memorize them—

But thinking hard about this man is making the pressure build in my head.

"Dante." he says before I can make up a name for him.

Dammit.

"Yeah." I realize I'm staring, and I face away. The creep's lost his fire. He huffs, running a hand across his bottom jaw, his tongue across his teeth, and walks off.

"Fucker." I hiss.

"Sorry that guy did that. Women can't just go about their lives without some guy ruining it, huh?"

I give him a look, squinting, and nod. Well, at least he's a bit aware. "Thanks—"

"Dante. That's my actual name. You?"

"You got it right. It's Sofia." I scan the dance floor, but Preethi's not there. I suck in a breath, phone still in-hand, and move to slip out of Dante's grip, and—

"Oh. My. God! Andrea, did you seriously find, and talk to, a cute guy before I did?" Right on cue. She must've been at the bar, because she has a blue cosmo in her hand.

Dante smirks and glances at me. "I got it right, huh...?"

"Sure did." I deadpan. Well, there goes the fake name plan.

"Also," I add, finally slipping out of Dante's grip, who thankfully doesn't fight me, "No. I didn't find a cute guy. He helped me when this creep tried got angry when I said I wasn't interested."

"At least she's not denying that I'm cute." he laughs.

Preethi laughs with him a bit too hard. She's such a romantic. A guy could hold open the door for her and she'd swoon. Then again, Dante looks like the kind of guy that'll easily capsize any woman. It's in the light eyes, the toothy smirk. It doesn't take long to recognize.

"Anyway, thanks for the help, Dante, but—"

"No! Oh, no, no, you're so not getting rid of this handsome guy so quickly. Dante, do me a favor. My roommate here's chronically lonely, and chronically cold, and is desperate to date someone—" she grabs me and pulls me closer. She's staggering, eyes glazed over. Already drunk.

Dante chuckles and raises a brow, looking over me. The pressure's building in my skull, further, walls of bone closing in against my brain. The music shifts; deep, pulsing beat, growing faster, faster, ready to bass-drop—

"Preethi, enough."

Her smile dissipates.

"There's too much going on here. I'm heading back home."