Framed by the Mafia

Chapter 7 : A Date With My Hot Boss

*Rebecca*

I had definitely lost my mind.

I couldn't believe I'd actually agreed to go on a date with Alessandro. What was I thinking? I knew I was dying for him to ask me out, but deep down, did I actually believe this was a good idea? Office romances never ended well, especially if one of the parts was your boss.

I hadn't told Jamie. I felt bad not telling her, she was my best friend after all, but I didn't want to deal with the questions. I didn't even tell her I had a date, just that I was going to dinner this evening.

The work week had flown by. I wasn't sure if I wanted it to fly by or not, because I was so nervous. I wasn't exactly sure why I was nervous, to be honest. It was clear that Alessandro and I had chemistry, and I was looking forward to exploring that outside of the office.

However, every bad date I'd ever had came flooding back through my memories, and I worried that for some reason maybe we wouldn't have anything to talk about or he'd realize this was an insane idea halfway through the date and go to the bathroom and never come back.

It was ridiculous. I assured myself of that as I changed out of my work clothes and into something a little more appropriate for a date. I found a black skirt with a little cut-out on one side and a nice green top with lantern sleeves. It was a fun outfit that I hoped put out the kind of vibes that said, 'I know you're my boss and I'm really going out on a limb here but I also think you're hot'.

I went out to the living room to find my heels and wait for Alessandro to arrive. Jamie was out with Amelia, so I didn't have to worry about her asking questions about my outfit. I probably should've asked when she planned on coming home so we didn't end up both kissing our dates goodnight at the same time in some kind of a silly, rom-com-style mess.

That was stupid too. I was spending too much time thinking of ridiculous scenarios and not enough time preparing myself for what would likely be a very pleasant evening. I considered a few conversation topics ahead of time: did he like sports, what was it like growing up in the city, and what was his favorite color? I considered a few other deeper questions about religion and the meaning of life but decided that was a little too heavy for a dinner that wasn't even technically supposed to be a date.

A knock on my door made my heart nearly leap out of my chest as I stood hastily to answer it

Alessandro was in gray slacks, a white button-down shirt with the top three buttons undone to reveal the smallest sliver of tattooed skin, and a gold chain necklace. It was tasteful, rather than gaudy, and I had to admit he was even more handsome like this.

"Holy s**t, you look amazing," he breathed. I didn't miss the way his eyes scanned me discreetly. I ignored the dirty thoughts that immediately came to my mind and smiled at him.

"You clean up pretty nicely yourself," I complimented.

Alessandro offered me his arm, and I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow. I paused to lock the door, then let him lead me down the stairs.

I liked walking with him like this. So many dates wanted to just hold hands, or bump awkwardly into each other. This felt dignified, formal almost. It was sweet and thoughtful.

I hadn't expected Alessandro to be parked at the curb as if he owned the entire street. I shouldn't be surprised that a man who ran a massive company, and was also quite possibly a member of the mafia, would be able to find convenient street parking in New York City. But when he unlocked the door to a red Ferrari, I was a little impressed. By the parking, of course, not the car.

"Do you like steak?" he asked, opening the passenger-side door for me.

I climbed inside and waited for him to join me inside before answering.

"I grew up in Kansas. I love steak," I answered with a shrug.

"Excellent," he said, pulling out into traffic.

He bobbed and weaved expertly in and out of traffic. I had to admit I was also the slightest bit impressed by his driving ability. I hated having to sell my 4Runner when I moved to New York and lost the ability to drive myself anymore.

I hated the traffic in New York City more though, so I guess I didn't miss it too badly. That's what impressed me about Alessandro's driving. Nothing phased him. The streets were packed as per usual, but he maintained conversation while narrowly avoiding getting hit like it was the same as breathing.

I was momentarily distracted by his hands gripping the wheel and also his sharp jawline that I almost missed his question.

"So, your high school was pretty small then?" he asked, continuing the conversation we'd been having about my hometown.

"I guess relatively. I graduated with seventy other kids, but there were a lot of smaller schools in the area." I shrugged, looking away and focusing on the cars outside. It was starting to get pretty hot in here and I wondered when we'd arrive wherever we were going.

"I graduated with a class of nearly seven hundred students," Alessandro chuckled. "Ten times as many."

"I guess that's how you got so good at math," I teased.

"I should be asking you how you got so good at math if you went to a little country bumpkin high school," he teased back.

"Hey. There's lots of great tiny high schools all over this country. The small town folk are the backbone of America," I chuckled.

"And what does that make us city folk?" he asked, his tone curious.

"Piteously underprepared for an apocalyptic event," I retorted.

"Alright, fair," he admitted, a half smile tugging up one corner of his mouth.

Alessandro pulled up to the valet stand in front of a restaurant that I knew I couldn't afford and hopped out. He came around to my side and opened the door. I tried to swallow back my nerves.

He tossed the keys to the man at the valet and led me inside, his hands placed on my lower back, slightly guiding me. I bit my bottom lip to distract me from the way my skin crawled under his touch. We rode the elevator up to the top floor of the building.

"Good evening," he said politely to the woman at the hostess stand.

It took the woman a second to react to Alessandro before she could respond. I got it. He did look drop-dead gorgeous. I felt the same way when I opened the door earlier this evening.

"Mr. Russo. Your table is ready," she finally said, casting a sideways glance at me.

"Thank you," Alessandro answered with a smile.

"Right this way," she said, leading us to a table with an incredible view of the city below.

After seating us, the woman sat two menus on the table, casting one more longing glance at Alessandro while she ignored me completely. She clearly already knew him, but I could tell she was just as impressed with him as any other time before.

"Have you been here before?" I asked, trying to make small talk. I could tell the staff's behavior changed as soon as we stepped in.

Alessandro cleared his throat and shifted on his chair before looking at me.

"Well, you could say this is one of my other businesses."

I shouldn't be surprised. Alessandro was a rich man, that was undeniable. But I had no idea he had other businesses other than the company. However, if he was a mafia boss like the article Jamie and I read suggested, I guessed it only made sense he owned a place like this.

"Of course it is," I pointed out jokingly, glancing back at the menu.

"Get whatever you want, it's on me tonight," he said casually, opening the menu to scan over the options.

That was generous. I cracked open the menu to see this was the kind of restaurant that didn't even put the prices on the menu. I probably wouldn't have been able to afford even an appetizer. I wondered what other types of businesses he had in town, but it was too soon to start dropping those kinds of questions.

We chattered back and forth over our menus, pausing long enough to order. It was easy to talk with him. We felt almost like old friends, like we'd known each other all along. There was something comforting about that feeling. I wondered if things would always be this easy, or if there would even be another date at all.

The chemistry was there, there was no denying it. But would it be enough? I was certain Alessandro had all types of women before, so I wondered what he saw in me.

I shoved that thought away and focused on the story he was telling me about the time he tried to perform Catholic funeral rights for his dead goldfish. It was a cute story, and it offered a little window into what his life had been like growing up.

We split an incredibly decadent dessert, and I even indulged in a glass of champagne. It was a good date, and I felt warm and fuzzy as Alessandro opened the door to his car for me.

"Well, I have to know," Alessandro started. "Nico told me that girls like to feel like a man is going to take care of them, so you have to show them how valuable they are. Did I show you how truly special I find you?"

I choked on a laugh. "Nico? Nico as in shipping and receiving at work Nico?"

"We're also friends outside of the office," Alessandro admitted.

"I see. Well, I don't really have an expensive taste. I would've had just as much fun getting pizza and a milkshake. It's your presence that I wanted," I explained, avoiding looking at him. I was a bit more comfortable with flirting with him, but being in a tiny space so close to Alessandro was clouding my brain.

"Pizza and a milkshake," he mused as he drove me back home. "Sounds like an excellent second date."

I couldn't help but chuckle. It was sweet that he'd gone all out like this, but not necessary. This sort of thing wasn't usually my style. I didn't ever want to treat someone like an ATM. I liked him for who he was, not what he could do for me... Or buy.

"This is not a date," I reminded him, instead of telling him what was on my mind.

"Right, I forgot. Not a date," he agreed solemnly, although there was a hint of teasing in his voice.

My apartment was too close to the restaurant. I wished the drive had taken a little longer. I wanted more time with him. Magically, he managed to find another impossible parking spot and shut off the engine.

"Do you mind if I walk you up?" he asked.

"I'd really appreciate that," I admitted, feeling the butterflies in my stomach return to life.

He walked around and opened my door again for me, for the last time tonight. I was already mourning the end of the evening. It was going to be a very long weekend not seeing him again.

As with everything else in the evening, the elevator ride and walk to my apartment didn't last quite long enough. I found myself standing in front of my front door, staring up into those bottomless brown eyes of his.

"Thank you for taking a chance on this date with me," he said quietly, leaning just a little closer, his eyes darting between my eyes and my lips.

"Not a date," I reminded him. I could barely blink. He was close, too close for my own good.

"Well, if it's not a date, can I still end this not-date with a not-date kiss?" he asked in a whisper, chin tipping down as he looked into my eyes.

I wanted so desperately to say yes. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to invite him inside and do more than that. But he was my boss. I didn't want to risk my career if this didn't work out. I didn't want to risk being accused of sleeping my way to the top.

But maybe it would be worth it. Risking it all to feel his lips on mine, to feel his hands on my skin, caressing me and worshiping me as if I was the only woman left in the world.