Anthony merely grins, flashing a gold tooth in back.
“Yeah, exactly. Those.”
With a sigh, I head to my bedroom to change, and then come teetering out in the stilettos. Goodness, I hope his dad doesn’t think I’m a stripper. Meanwhile, Anthony nods with approval.
“Yeah, perfect. That’s more like it. Are you wearing sexy lingerie underneath that dress?”
I stare at him.
“Why?”
He shrugs.
“Just making sure.”
I roll my eyes.
“Yes, okay, although I have no idea what you’re getting at. I like to splurge on lingerie, so yes, I have nice set on beneath this outfit.”
Anthony nods, licking his lips lasciviously.
“Good, good, let’s go then.”
With that, we’re out the door and into a black town car. After zipping down the FDR, we pull up in front of an imposing town house on the Upper East Side, complete with a high stoop decorated with topiaries, as well as a huge double door. Holy cow, this is nice, but it’s not surprising because the Genoveses are rich, and this town house is evidence of their wealth.
We’re admitted by a butler, who bows courteously, but before he can speak, Anthony takes my hand to lead me up the stairs.
“We’re going to my dad’s office,” he explains. “Come on.”
We traipse up carpet-covered stairs and into an elaborate hallway decorated with golden wall scones and niches filled with artwork. But Anthony pulls me down the corridor before knocking on a door on the left. Then, he pushes it open and we step inside.
Oh wow, the office is gorgeous. There are bookshelves along the walls, filled with beautiful volumes with richly-covered spines. A huge mahogany desk is placed before floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a garden, but it’s the man sitting there that makes my heart race.
After all, I’ve seen photos of Roman Genovese, but the pictures don’t do him justice because Anthony’s dad is drop-dead gorgeous. He’s deeply tanned with bronzed skin and hair as black as night. Even though he must be in his forties, the man has the physique of a Greek god, filling out an expensive suit with broad shoulders and a wide chest. He gets up, and is quite a few inches taller than his son too.
“Hello,” he speaks, that bass voice rich and charming. “You must be Taylor. Welcome to my home.”
I snap my mouth shut because I was literally gawping at the handsome man.
“Hi,” I manage in a wobbly voice. “Yes, thank you for having me over for dinner, Mr. Genovese. It’s so nice to meet you!”
Those blue eyes glint as he looks at me, taking in my lush figure and ridiculously high heels. However, he doesn’t comment.
“Please, call me Roman. I’ve heard so much about you from Anthony.”
I stammer a bit, my cheeks flushing.
“You have?”
“I have,” he rumbles. “All of it positive too.” Then, before I can reply, he turns to his son. “So is this the product you were speaking of?”
I furrow my brow. What is that supposed to mean? Product? What is he talking about?
But my boyfriend seems unsurprised and sniggers. “Yep, this is it. Like I said, the Bronx has some hidden gems. You just have to know where to look. Isn’t she gorgeous?”
I turn to stare at my boyfriend. Wait a minute. I live in the Bronx, so are the men talking about me? This seems really weird because I’m standing right here, but they’re discussing me like I’m a cow up for sale. What in the world? I decide to take matters into my own hands.
“Here, I brought these as a thank you for having me over,” I say, handing Roman the gift bag with the candlesticks inside. “I hope you like them. I think they fit well with your decor.”