I gladly reach for the drink, wanting to burn away the memories of the past hour.
“To forgetting—” I wince at my choice of words. I haven’t even touched my drink yet, and I’m making an ass out of myself.
Dmitri smiles. If he’s offended, he’s hiding it well.
“To forgetting the last phone call,” he says, and clinks my glass.
I lift the amber liquid, which helps kill the taste in my mouth. I’m grateful for the drink and finish it in a matter of seconds. I gesture the waitress over, but it takes her a minute to make it to our table.
“I ordered dinner for you as well,” Dmitri says. “Homemade soup. But if you want to order something else instead, I’m sure we can still change the order. Or add to it.”
“Soup sounds good.” I’m not sure I can eat much, but spending a few minutes forgetting about Antonio and work will hopefully be enough to help bring back my appetite.
The waitress comes to our table, and I order another Amaretto Sour while Antonio orders another scotch.
“Tomorrow, you can stay at the hotel when I visit Anton and Savannah. It’ll be safer for you if you’re not with me.”
“Safer because they want you dead?” I ask.
The pulsating music keeps anyone from overhearing our conversation. There’s a small crowd, mostly hanging out by the bar.
“I can’t be certain they won’t try again,” Dmitri says. “And besides, you don’t need to go through another traumatic event after tonight.”
I exhale a shaky breath. “I’ll be fine tomorrow. I’m just… I wasn’t expecting to hear Antonio take a man’s life.”
“It can be difficult to witness,” Dmitri says.
“Are you speaking from experience?” I can’t imagine that he is, but he’s been on the opposite end of the barrel of a gun.
He sips his scotch and gives me a wry grin. “How’s your stomach?”
Is he intentionally changing the subject or trying to take my mind off the shit-show night that we’ve had?
“I’ve been better, but honestly, what you did for me was sweet and reckless.”
“How’s that?” Dmitri asks.
“You practically told off a mafia boss. I mean, if what you say is true.” And I have less reason to doubt him after Antonio’s unexpected and unintentional phone call.
“What I say is true?” he repeats.
“You said that I’m under your protection. And you mentioned your boss, Mikhail. What does he have to do with any of it? How do they know each other?”
Any hint of a smile vanishes from his features. His gaze hardens, and he sits straighter in the booth. “Old family. Mikhail’s baby sister married Antonio.”
“Talk about complicated,” I mutter.
“You’re done working for Moretti’s Bar. If you need a job, you’ll come wait tables or handle drink orders at Club Sage.”
“That’s a strip club.”
“Do you have a problem with where I work?” Dmitri pins me with his stare.
“No, just that I’m not going to be taking my clothes off for any man—”
“You’re right. You’re not going to take your clothes off for any man but me,” he says.
I shiver and hope that he doesn’t notice. There’s something about his dominance that stirs a fire deep within me.