16

"YOU'RE SO EXTRA,"

I couldn't fight the scowl that grew on my face as my eyes scanned the place. The dimly lit restaurant exuded an air of opulence, with soft jazz melodies drifting through the ambiance. "I said I was hungry, not that I wanted to break the bank," I muttered, shooting a glare at Stone across the table.

"Relax," he simply said, eyeing me from behind his glass of red wine as his thick brows raised at me questionably before placing the glass back down on the white-clothed table that separates us.

My arms crossed over my chest as my eyes wandered around at the other restaurantgoers around us all dressed in the appropriate attire. "I'm not even dressed properly for a place like this. I'm surprised they let me in looking like this." I gestured down to my muscle t-shirt and sweats, an agitated hand coming up to ruffle through the darkened curls on my head still dampened with a little sweat from rehearsals earlier.

Stone takes another sip of his wine. "Well you are with me so . . ." he tells me bluntly and I couldn't fight the eye roll that came over me at his words. "Is there anything you can't do? I mean this place is... quite fancy and the fact that they let me in looking like this—"

"You look fine," He cuts me off waving a dismissive hand. "It's just a restaurant. And yes, it is fancy, but don't let that intimidate you. Tonight, it's just two gentlemen enjoying a meal together."

I paused in my movements, my brows getting a mind of their own and wiggling together before I let out a soft breathy laugh at the big bad mafia boss in front of me. "Gentlemen?" I repeated the word thinking I had misheard him.

"Are you not a gentleman?" he asked me.

"Oh, I'm very gentle. That shit is embedded in my bones. . . literally," I force up a smile poking a finger into the dimple on my cheek, finger falling into it like freshly made dough. "but there's nothing gentle about you Stone. Your name is quite literally the opposite."

The mafia boss scoffed at me. "I can be gentle," he assured just as the waiter came back to the table with the menus. Our conversation came to a slight pause as the older waiter placed the menus on the table in front of us. I opened it with hesitation as my eyes read over the menu and my breath hitched in my throat, a slight cough erupting through me unprompted.

"Damn, they must had Keith Lee come through this bitch or something?" I mumbled under my breath which caused Stone to look up from his menu. "Is there a problem?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my gaze fixed on the prices listed beside each dish. "It's just... the prices here are a bit . . . woah how much for roasted duck? Damn, these bitches must raise the ducks themselves or something?" Even the prices at the La Crème aren't this grand and it's where all the celebrities go with their sneaky links.

He titled his head a me, a puzzled look coming over his chiseled face. "Why are you worrying about prices?" I look up from the menu in my hands as he continues to speak. "the cost of something is irrelevant to me just get whatever you want."

Oh okay, you ain't gotta tell me twice. I folded up the menu and placed it down on the table turning to the waiter who was waiting patiently beside us. "Ah, he got money," I said to him earning a slight eye roll from Stone. I finally make my selection, opting for one of the more modestly priced items on the menu. As the waiter took our orders and disappeared into the kitchen, an awkward silence settled between us again.

Me being the conversationalist, attempted to break the tension. "So, Mr. Stone, tell me about yourself." I forced up the words to try and make this awkward dinner any less awkward. I mean what do you talk about with one of the biggest gangsters in the city?

Stone wrapped his tattooed fingers around his glass again, taking a small sip of the blood wine and I watched as his Adam's apple bobbed through his inked-up neck. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything you can tell me that won't have the CIA hacking my phone and listening in on my calls," I reply with a shrug.

"You have to be specific with what you want me to tell you or otherwise I won't really know what to do," he explains to me, the dim lighting bouncing off his blemish-free face highlighting his perfect cheekbones. "I've never been the best a conversation. You know that."

My fingers tapped on the clothes table as I thought of a response, my untouched glass of wine bouncing around with each movement and I smiled at the idea that came over me. "Let's play truth or drink while we wait for our food."

Stone made a face at me, head falling back a bit. "Truth or drink?"

"C'mon it's fun," I tell him grabbing my wine glass and swirling it around in my hand. "we just ask one another questions and we can either answer it and be truthful or drink and not answer."

"Is this one of the games you play at your college parties?" he asked and I shrugged my shoulders. "Sometimes."

The dimly lit restaurant flickered with the dance of chandelier lights above us as Stone eyes me from across the table before a small stretch of his lips showcased his top row of teeth — was that a smile? Does he even know how to do that? I doubt it. His muscular frame is adorned with intricate tattoos, each telling a story of power and dominance. Despite the intimidating aura he exuded, his perfect smile could disarm even the most hardened souls. With piercing brown eyes that seemed to hold secrets untold, he leaned in closer, resting an arm against the table, sending a slight shiver down my spine of a potent blend of allure and danger. "Let's play."

"Okay but before we start I just want to warn you that I'm a really good drinker," I placed down my glass of wine.

He raised his left brow at me. "Really? You seem like the smell of alcohol alone would have you throwing up on the side of the road somewhere."

"Hehehe," I let out a fake laugh at his slight jab quickly shifting my expression to a stern one. "I can handle my alcohol. I'm not an alcoholic or anything but don't let these soft cheeks and big eyes fool you. I can drink like a depressed divorced mother of three."

"That's really specific," he said before his eyes wandered around the restaurant. He got the attention of a waiter walking past and whispered something to him before sending him off again.

I shifted uncomfortably, my fingers fidgeting with the napkin on the table. "What was that about?"

"Just something to make the game more interesting," Stone answered, genuine interest in his eyes. After a few minutes had passed the waiter came back to the table with a bottle of wine, placing the expensive-looking bottle on the table in front of us. "let's finish this."

My tongue poked the inside of my cheek, mouth slightly agape as I watched his big hands reach for the bottle. With practiced precision, he uncorked it, the sound echoing through the restaurant like a promise of luxury. The aroma of aged grapes and oak filled the air as he poured a generous amount into his glass, the rich crimson liquid glinting in the soft light. With a confident tilt of his head, he brought the glass to his lips, savoring the velvety texture and complex flavors with each sip, a subtle smirk playing on his lips, a silent testament to his refined tastes and commanding presence.

"Just a warm-up glass." He said placing his now empty glass back down on the table. "Scared of you," I breathed lowly.

I reached for my glass of wine taking a sip for the first time tonight. The first sip was like a revelation, a symphony of flavors dancing on the palate. I chugged the rest down just as quickly. The velvety texture caresses my tongue. Now empty, I placed the wine glass back on the table in front of me. Stone looked almost pleased or maybe he wanted to laugh at me but didn't exactly know how because his face always looks like he's mad at everyone.

"I'll go first," I tell him as I pour myself another glass. He leaned back in his seat, a hand coming up to rest on his chin as two fingers tapped patiently against his plump lips as he waited for my question.

"so . . . how many people have you . . ." I didn't want to say the words aloud hoping he would know what I was alluding to. I pretended to choke myself at the table, eyes rolling to the back of my head and my tongue falling out like I was a dying corpse so he would get the picture.

He made a face at me. "You're very straightforward, you know that?"

I chuckled at his words leaning back in my seat, arm resting on the table. "Never been straight but I'm always forward," I tell him.

His eyes roll to the side a bit at that before he reaches for the bottle of wine and pours himself another glass. He lets the crimson liquid fill his glass before taking the glass and raising it slightly at me. He didn't down the entire glass like before but instead took a decently calculated gulp.

"Is that something you're not allowed to tell me? Like is it against mafia law or something?" I asked him genuinely curious.

"You're never supposed to ask a man how many people he's killed Kylo," he says to me and I feel a shiver run down my back at the way he says my name. "but even still I couldn't give you a proper number even if I tried."

I made a face at his answer. Oh, that's not . . .

"How close are you and my brother?" I don't even have time to register the last question before Stone throws his at me.

I raised my brow at him. "Enzo? I barely know him," I told him truthfully fumbling with the napkins on the table again. "we hung out once at a party and he gave me and my friends some drugs that made me feel like shit the next morning but other than that me and Enzo don't hang out. I barely even see him at school."

"You do drugs?" another question is thrown at me only this time there's an almost surprised look on Stone's face as he says it like he wasn't expecting that to come from my mouth.

I quickly shake my head no. "Hell no. It was just a one-time thing and trust me, after that one time I definitely won't be doing any drugs ever again."

Stone leaned back in his chair, a playful glint in his eyes as he shook his head at me. "Your turn again." he challenged, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Equally intrigued now I matched his expression with a a coy smile. "Who was that guy you brought home last week," I asked, my gaze meeting his with a hint of anticipation.

"He's a friend." He simply answered and I pursed my lips together not believing a thing to come out of his perfectly formed lips.

"A friend who you fuck I suppose?"

"Sometimes."

I admired his honesty. So that's his type huh? Tall, exotic-looking guys who look like they could eat me alive if they wanted to. I mean it makes sense when you look at him. He needs someone to match his vibe and that guy that night definitely checked everything off the box. Leaning forward, Stone posed another question with a mix of curiosity and mischief in his voice. "Why do you ask?"

I chuckled softly, considering my response before admitting, "I'm just nosy. You see that's how I even ended up in this situation with you in the first place. My curiosity is a curse." As if amused by my confession, Stone raised an eyebrow in approval. "or a blessing depending on how you look at it," he remarked before taking his turn.

"Since you seem to know so much about my family why don't you tell me a bit about yours? What's your home life like?"

"My family . . ." I hesitated for a moment, my hand inching closer to the glass of wine in front of me. "it's just me and my mom. I'm an only child." I tell him.

"Sounds peaceful."

I chuckled at his assumption. "It is." I didn't even realize the glass of wine was pressed against my lips until it was empty and I had swallowed the sweet wine just as quickly as it poured into my glass. I look over at Stone who's already eyeing me from across the table, one of his thick darkened eyebrows raising on his forehead.

"To spice the game up a bit, you know?" I tell him with a soft laugh escaping me. He nods his head a bit before reaching for his glass of wine and downing the entire glass, only to pour more into his cup immediately after. He looked at me and my glass and did the same as well.

"Your turn," he said.

I exhaled a low breath shaking off the feeling that came over at me. "Your dad . . ." I started. "he's so sweet and funny please don't me that old man was out here shaking shit up too."

To my surprise, Stone started to laugh. It caught me off guard a bit. His laughter rippled through me with its infectious warmth. His eyes sparkled with mirth as he leaned back in his chair, his easy charm almost captivating. With each hearty chuckle, he exuded a magnetic energy that seemed to fill the room, making it impossible not to smile in response to his contagious joy.

"You called me a controlling dictator a while ago," he said picking up his glass. "if I'm a monster to you then I'd hate to see what you would call my father." He downs his glass easily. We're just drinking for fun at this point.

"What about your father? How's he?" Stone asked me as he filled another glass.

"I wouldn't know," I tell him, a hand reaching for my glass again, my eyes trialing the detailing of the white cloth over the table just now noticing the intricate designs. "he died when I was young." Like before I don't realize I've drunk all of my wine until I'm removing the glass from my lips, my hand automatically reaching for the bottle of wine to pour another.

"Sorry for your loss." Stone's voice is so dry and stale but I think I know him enough to know that's just how he talks, but I still found it funny anyway and let out a soft chuckle. "Don't be sorry. He wasn't a good person." The words fall out of my mouth like vomit, and I start picking at the fabric of the cloth, tugging at the loose strings of fabric so much I could see the actual glass table underneath us a bit in a small hole I dug. Another glass went down my throat just as easily it was poured and I looked across the table to see Stone with a sly smile on his face.

As the evening progressed, the clinking of glasses and the warmth of the wine enveloped both of us in the restaurant in a haze of intoxication. With each sip, laughter flowed freely, and inhibitions dissolved into the night air. I don't even think I touched my food because I was full of wine while Stone somehow managed to devour both. However, it soon became apparent that he had indulged a bit too much, his movements becoming slightly unsteady as the longer the night went on.

He had shrugged off his jacket, revealing the intricate tapestry of tattoos that adorned his chest and arms. The candlelight played off the inked designs, casting shadows that danced across his skin with every movement. With a flick of his wrist, he unbuttoned a few buttons on his crisp button-up shirt, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of his tattooed chest, a silent testament to his underworld allegiance. As he leaned back in his chair, he reached for his glass, the amber liquid within swirling gently with each tilt of his hand. With each sip, he loosened his cuffs, the tension of the evening melting away with each release. His demeanor remained poised, yet there was an undeniable edge to his gaze, a hint of danger lurking beneath the surface as he reveled in the heady combination of power and intoxication.

"I think that's enough for you tonight," I tell him with a soft uncontrollable laughter coming from me. I, myself was a bit tipsy but it's clear we were on two different levels right now. Oddly enough I felt proud of myself at the fact that I just out-drunk a mafia boss.

After finishing the rest of the wine Stone drunkenly tossed down a few hundred dollar bills on the table, which I'm more than positive is like ten times over what we owe but that's his money so he can do as he pleases, plus I know I love getting a good tip at work so I know these waiters about to cut up tonight real good.

Stone stands to his feet, a slight stumble in his steps as he grabs ahold of his jacket, fingers grabbing around the expensive fabric like it was the only thing keeping him from falling over right now. "You good?" I asked him, offering my support to the intoxicated mafia boss, his arm wrapped around my shoulder, his warmth enveloping me in a comforting embrace. Despite his inebriation, his scent is intoxicating, a blend of cologne and leather that lingers in the air around us.

His tattooed arms, strong and muscular, provide a steady anchor as we navigate towards the waiting car outside. With each step, his grip tightens, his trust in me evident even in his drunken state.

Despite the circumstances, there's a strange intimacy in this moment, a vulnerability shared between us as we lean on each other for support. As we finally reach the car, I can't help but feel a pang of empathy for the man behind the intimidating facade, a reminder that even the most powerful can be brought to their knees by a few glasses of wine.

His driver is standing outside the Rolls Royce waiting. With gentle coaxing, we managed to settle him into the plush interior of the car, his head lolling back against the seat. The driver got in the front and started the car while I handed Stone his jacket. As the engine purred to life, he turned me with a hazy grin, his words slurred but sincere. "Come with me," he implored, his hand reaching out to me.

I huffed out a chuckle, my breath catching in the air. "What?"

"Come home with me mon chéri," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire as he switches to a language I couldn't understand. Caught off guard, I hesitate, the weight of his proposition heavy in the air between us. But something in his vulnerability tugs at my heartstrings, and against my better judgment, I find myself nodding in acquiescence.

At that moment, amidst the haze of alcohol and desire, I fall into the leather seating in the luxurious confines of the Rolls Royce. The soft purr of the engine provides a backdrop to the intimate proximity between us, his presence magnetic despite his inebriation. As the city lights blur past the tinted windows, Stone leans closer, his warmth seeping into my skin as his head falls against my shoulder, eyes closed and his breath tickles my cheek as he murmurs.

"You make it easier to sleep," I hear him say. Despite my reservations, I don't push him off me and instead look down to see him falling asleep on me in the quiet intimacy of the car, with only the soft hum of the engine to accompany us.

••••

EXCUSE ANY MISTAKES OR ERRORS

I have two genuine questions

1. Would Kylo and Stone be considered slow burn? I really don't know lol.

2. Which one are you after a a few drinks?

Kylo:

Or

Stone:

Personally I'm Stone if I'm being honest lol