Borgata - Book II #wattys2016

Chapter 33: Need

CIAO!

OK SO WHAT IS EVERYONE'S FAVORITE ITALIAN DESSERT???????????????????????????????

LET ME KNOW IF YOU GOT THE NOTIFICATION FOR THIS CHAPTER BECAUSE SOMETIMES IT DOESN'T WORK AND IT'S HONESTLY SO ANNOYING!

*twerks to the electric beat in this song*

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 Dessert consisted struffoli or little fried balls of dough with sprinkles, hot zeppoles with confectionary sugar and chocolate sauce, and some kind of white salad sticky mass with fruit in it and cherries on top.

Fico of course went right for the strange dessert, taking the most graceful spoonful a man of his size and sinful reputation could take, whereas I ungracefully reached for the struffoli and practically stuffed my face with them.

"What is that?" I asked, motioning to white salad.

"That is ambrosia," Fico said, amusement flickering in his silver eye.

"Sounds like a sexually transmitted disease."

Fico chuckled. "It has mini marshmallows, clementine's, pineapple, coconut, and cherries in it. The white is mostly cream." He scooped a lump of most of the fixings in the salad and held out his spoon to me.

My face scrunched up. "No, thanks."

He looked down at my plate of desserts. "I didn't know chickens ate so much struffoli, cucciola. Did you?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. He kept his patient spoon hovered between us and sipped his wine with his other hand.

"Nobody calls me a chicken." I leaned over the table and wrapped my lips around his spoon. Noticing his immediate interest in my mouth, I slowly pulled my mouth off the spoon and licked my lips. "That's actually pretty good."

The look he gave me crafted a warm bloom of heat throughout my body. He leaned back at in his seat and continued to stare at me in a way that was so demonstrative that I wondered when his good twin had taken his place. I stared back at him, too. He was quite the beautiful villain, and he filled out his tuxedo too perfectly, I'd give him that.

I leaned forward on the table. "Why do I feel like," I began slowly, "you fed me all of this to fatten me up and eat me later? Or for some other evil intension..."

Fico leaned forward on the table as well, his exposed silver eye dancing with the fire of the candle. "Maybe I just wanted you to have the energy to keep up with me later."

I tried not to stare too long at those chiseled features, especially when his mouth formed a crooked, sinful smile that transformed him into a god. I leaned back in my seat. In my moment of weakness, I completely forgot about his true intentions for this dinner. Fico wanted something from me. Information. He'd found the cell phone I'd disposed of after communicating with Orlando, and his guess was that it was mine. The thought that this whole dinner was some sort of scheme to get information out of me was more upsetting than I could ever let on.

"I thought I kept up with you fine last time," I finally replied.

"Except this time, I have more things to take out on you." The mood in the room shifted with the sudden harshness of the mafia boss's voice. I feared we weren't talking about sex anymore. Fico refilled his wine glass, took a big sip, and set it back down. "I want to address what we discussed last night. About the cell phone you disposed in the trashcan."