VINCENT, does the entire female population of New York have it in for this guy?
"Thanks, DIDI. Appreciate you remembering. And my favorite flavor too."
KYOLINE wanted to add that the candles were melting the ice cream rapidly, but she remained silent. She didn't wish to be any more involved with this man than was absolutely necessary.
He spoons out one of the scoops—of one of the candles—onto her cannoli plate. "You absolutely have to try this chocolate ice cream." Sure, like that's what she's worried about right now.
He rises to blow out his four remaining candles.
"Wait!" she says suddenly.
He waits, peering up at her with an arched brow.
"You haven't wished," she whispers.
He looks at her consideringly. "You actually think that works, don't you? Wishes coming true?"
She shrugs, acting a nonchalance she does not feel. "It's a tradition. Everyone does it." And having lived the kind of life she has had up to this point, she never misses a chance of making a wish or being granted good luck, always keeping fingers crossed, never walking under ladders, and even praying to God when she is totally desperate.
He stares thoughtfully at the candles for a moment or two, then blows them all out simultaneously. She can't help but wonder what he made a wish for. But she doesn't ask him. Because everybody knows that then it won't occur.
He points at her scoop. "You should blow out your candle too."
She wants to say no, but she won't miss the opportunity for a wish. And closing her eyes tight for a moment, she wishes and blows out the candle.
He grins at her. "Bet I can guess what you wished for, KYOLINE."
"Shut up?" A mix of fear and embarrassment causes her manners totally to fail her.
His lips press together.
Do you have no birthday friends to go out with? That's why you've brought me here kicking and screaming to share a ice cream with you?"
He doesn't rise to the bait. "Got a boyfriend?"
"Jesus is my boyfriend." She gives him her best angelic smile. She'd rather that he thinks she's a nun who bashes the Bible than actually make out loud that she's got a mobster boyfriend.
"Any interests, princess?
"Busy, actually. Then I've had school first."
"A goody-two-shoes, then?"
Good grief, this man is as annoying as he is gorgeous. "Do I seem to you like a goody-two-shoes?"
The way his eyes roam over her body sends the whole body into awareness. He radiates power, confidence, authority. But it's not something that she needs to be drawn to, and definitely not from an officer of the law.
The ring of his phone echoes through the air. He retrieves it from his pocket to glance at the screen.
"No please, don't mind me," she says in an off-hand gesture of her wrist, though she wishes he would answer so that she won't have to sit through all of the questions.
But his dark eyes flash back to her as he lets the call go through. Great.
What I want to know the most is why does TENZ JER'SEY make his girl work in the KASH MANCHESTER?
Oh God. He already knows her boyfriend. "He doesn't make me do anything," she grits out. "I make my own choices and earn my own money."
"He's wealthy enough to buy you whatever you want.".
She does not say anything. It's not what she desires. It's what she needs. Money for rent, food, electricity.
"And you're pretty enough to get whatever you want out of him."
Her heart starts racing. Does he know that she has called the Fiorelli slut—that because her mum's a slut, everyone loves to make assumptions that she's one too?
"Are you expecting that he'll marry you?"
"No." Yes.
"Because he won't, you know.".
"Don't care."
Yes, I do. A great deal.
"You know you can do better than TENZ JER'SEY."
She doesn't answer. Being the Fiorelli slut fixes her options firmly. Anyway, she loves TENZ JER'SEY.
"You probably think you're in love with him."
Holy crap, how does he know what she's thinking?
"But he doesn't love you," he snaps.
And that's like a knife to her heart.
This snobbish man can't possibly know whether TENZ JER'SEY is in love with her or not. But her illogical self wonders if he's heard something. I mean, why would TENZ JER'SEY be in love with someone like me?
"Does he make you deliver guns?"
"He doesn't make me do anything."
"So, you're delivering guns for the KASH MANCHESTER." It's a statement, not a question.
She curses under her breath. "I, er, didn't say that."
"Why did you have to. I already know the answer."
"So, it's why you're asking me?" Her voice rises as annoyance spreads quickly through her.
"Because I can. Does he get you to sell your body too?"
"What?" she says.
He scoots forward and places his elbows on the table. His proximity makes her suddenly too warm. "You know, to make more money off of you?"
"He doesn't get me to do anything to make money for him." Her words hang in the air. Some girls at the casino have sex with patrons for money, but she's not one of them. If he's trying to rattle her, then he's succeeded. Is this where in the conversation he tries to catch her off guard and tries to get her to say some information about the KASH MANCHESTER?
To her surprise, however, he settles back in his chair and focuses intently on eating his cannoli. "You should eat. It's good."
She longs to say no, but she is starving. She grabs up the cannoli quickly, savoring the sweet creamy flavor of every bite. Fried pastry dough is sprinkled with chopped pistachios, candied fruit, and chocolate chips, and all liberally sugared, and the heavenly mix melts in her mouth.
She remains famished, and she starts on her ice cream, as does he. And when she manages to get the final mouthful down, she glances up at his eyes.
"Finished?" he enquires.
She nods minimally.
He stands up from the table, taking her arm again, and leads her out of the coffee shop and across the road.