The Real Italian Alphas Read Free

you,” he replied. “Driver, you know where to go.”
    “Yes, sir, Don Gabriel.” said the man at the wheel, and did as he was told.
     
    *
    Gabriel took her to an attractive restaurant that featured an upstairs dance floor.  A live band could be heard in the background, playing a blend of different popular dance tunes, but Betsy hardly seemed to notice what any of them were. She was too caught up in her companion’s voice and his casual touches, as he coaxed everything about her that he could from her traitorously willing lips.
    “But surely you must have questions for me, too, Betsy.” he said after a while as he drew one of the long-stemmed roses from the vase on the table and traced the flower over her nose. Betsy jumped when it tickled her more than she expected, making Gabriel laugh softly as he did it again.
    Before she could answer his question, however, two waiters showed up, each carrying one entree and several side dishes on their platters. They had placed their orders about twenty minutes ago, and now the scents of the hearty Italian dishes filled the air, and both of them sniffed appreciatively at the same time, and then laughed when each saw the other do so.
    “Why did you get different silverware?” Betsy asked curiously when she noticed one of the waiters setting out gold-colored implements in front of Gabriel and deftly removing the others.
    “I have—an allergic reaction—to silver.” said Gabriel, shrugging as he said this.
    Betsy nodded as she picked up her own fork, ready to begin eating her meal.
    “Try this, my dear,” he said as he held forth a bite of pasta on one of the forks in question. “It is the best linguini on the planet, and this place makes it to perfection.”
    She shyly leaned forward to eat the small bite of food off his golden fork, and her stomach filled with little butterflies at the way Gabriel watched her lips the entire time, as though he’d like to be tasting them. When she finally swallowed the heavenly morsel, she picked up her napkin and dabbed at her mouth, an action which practically had him salivating.
    “You’re not making it any easier to eat, doing that.” she teased him.
    “Yes, I see,” he chuckled. Then he reached forward and slid his hand gently over her throat and began to massage, making her chuckle right along with him.
    “I didn’t know people did throat massages.” she mentioned with a grin. He let go, and his hand slid upwards, cupping her chin as his thumb slid slowly over her bottom lip. “Or mouth massages, either.”
    “Lips are best massaged by the lips of another.” he told her with a sultry look that hit her right between her thighs. “And you did not ask me any questions, ma bella. ”
    “What does one ask a mob boss, anyway?” she wanted to know. “I’m sure there are plenty of things about you that I’d rather not know about.”
    “I would shield you from that part of my life,” he answered with a sincere and somewhat fanciful smile. “I’m sure you know I have not brought you here to recruit you to the Cosa Nostra. My reasons are, as you must have guessed, much more selfish in nature.”
    “You, selfish?” she asked with mock surprise. “No one would have ever suspected such a trait in a mobster.”
    “Sweet, sweet Betsy,” he grinned. “Why do you make me feel like a school boy again with your light-hearted banter? I have not laughed like this in ages.”
    Betsy’s smile fell slightly as she contemplated his words. She supposed there was much about his life that would cause him to frown, but still, he had money, power, and prestige, so it couldn’t be all that bad. Gabriel watched her face as these thoughts flitted through her mind, and yet again, she had the sense that he knew just what was on her mind.
    “You would think that with all my money, I would be happy,” he said with a nod. “But surely you must see that with no one in particular to share it with, the victory is somewhat empty.”
    “Have