Chapter 17

At the restaurant, Marcello was grateful for the murmured conversations that reminded him they were in a public place. Otherwise he might have done something impulsive. She was nothing but a distraction, sitting across from him.

"This is different from your other restaurant." She said, turning her head to look around the interior of the Italian restaurant. It was filled with small round tables, covered in white linen and each having a single glass of flower in the centre. A sleek black bar stood along one wall and Italian arias played softly over the loudspeaker. The floors were tile, the waiters were all in black aprons and the scent filling the air was amazing.

It was definitely different from his other restaurant.

Marcello let out an amused breath, then asked. "And what do you mean by that?"

"It's a lovely place." She told him with a smile.

"Not as lovely as you." He winked, his lips curving into a smirk.

She beamed at him as if he'd handed her flowers.

"I guess I should sa