Amo opened the door for me and I climbed in. He closed the door then got in behind the steering wheel. Without a word, he leaned over and grabbed my face then kissed me firmly.
I tensed, surprised by the move and still not used to being kissed. Amo pulled back, his eyes searching my face. “Too much?”
“Just startled,” I whispered. “I’m not used to this kind of intimacy.”
“Would you prefer if I don’t kiss you?”
“No. Just maybe warn me until I get used to this?” How could I ever get used to it when our time was so limited?
“Okay. I can do that.” A slow smile spread on his face then he turned back to the street and started the engine and pulled the car out of the alley. After a moment, he held out his hand, palm up. It took me a few heartbeats to realize what he wanted. I slipped my hand into his and he closed his fingers.
“Where are we going?”
“There aren’t many options. That’s why I decided to take you to a secluded place where nobody will catch us. Do you trust me?” He slanted a look at me, as if he worried I’d change my mind about this. But I didn’t feel a flicker of discomfort in Amo’s presence. Nevio would probably accuse me of being naïve or too trusting, but it wasn’t that.
Eventually we headed toward an industrial part of the city. Amo pulled up in front of a red brick building with tall smokestacks that towered over the Hudson river. I pushed open the door and scanned the cracked concrete with weeds and even smaller trees breaking free from its man-made confines. “Is this the abandoned Yonkers power plant?”
I’d read all about it in the handwritten chronicles in our library.
Surprise flitted across Amo’s face as he touched the small of my back to lead me toward the steel doors. “It is.”
“That’s where the last bloodbath in the history of the Famiglia took place, right?”
Amo grimaced and stopped in his tracks. “I’m not used to being romantic. I guess it shows,” he said with a deep laugh that made my belly flip. “Would you prefer if I took you somewhere else?”
I could tell that I’d caught him off guard, which was almost endearing.
“I like it. I’ve always been fascinated by abandoned places, their history and the wistfulness that clings to them.”
He stared up at the sky, shaking his head. “Wistfulness was definitely what I was going for with our first real date.”
I tilted my head, trying to determine if he was joking. He peered down at me with a dry laugh. “I’m kidding. Are you uncomfortable going in there with me?”
“Why would I be? I suppose there’s hardly anyone I’d be safer with in this place than with you.”
“There’s no one you’d be safer with.”
The pressure of his hand against my back increased and I allowed him to lead me the rest of the way toward the steel gate. He shoved it open with a harsh creak that let goosebumps ripple across my skin even though it was still warm.
I stepped into the high-ceilinged hall with its rusty pipes and columns. The scent of abandonment, mold and dust, hung in the air. My eyes caught on a table and two chairs on a small platform. Several small gas lamps illuminated the path toward and the place itself.
I could feel Amo’s gaze on me and so I dragged my eyes up to him. His expression was tight.
“Can we go there?” I motioned at the setup.
Amo nodded and took my hand in his bigger one, leading me toward the platform. “I’m going to lift you up, okay?”
I nodded. He grabbed my waist and hoisted me up on the platform. My hands flew to his shoulders as I was suspended in the air for a moment. I’d always loved the idea of lifting figures, but never managed to enjoy them. But in Amo’s hold I could imagine how it might feel with someone you felt comfortable with. Amo didn’t release my waist even when my feet touched the ground of the platform. Instead we stayed like that, me peering down at him, his hands on my waist and mine on his shoulders. I smiled and without thinking, I bent down and kissed him. I pulled back a bit. “Was that okay?”
Amo chuckled. “You can kiss me whenever you want.”
I shook my head. “I mean my technique.”
Amo slid his lips across mine, a soft friction that warmed my belly in the most perfect way. “It’s not about technique, but passion.”
Passion. I nodded. Passion was something you couldn’t grasp or learn, definitely not read up about. Then I took a step back so Amo could jump on the platform and I could take a look at the table. It was set for two. But I didn’t see food anywhere and I doubted there was a kitchen. “Sit down.”
Amo pulled back one of the chairs for me and I sank down. He squatted before a Styrofoam box which delivery services used to keep food warm and lifted the lid. Inside were several bags. He began to unload about two dozen boxes. “I wasn’t sure what you like to eat so I got Sushi, Chinese, Indian, Arabic and Italian food.”