Now let’s get back to our regularly scheduled programming…here is an unedited snippet of Daddy’s Angel II:
Gino looked around his restaurant and smiled. The clinking of champagne glasses were music to his ears. When one table was cleared, it was quickly filled with another. The front doors to the restaurant soon became revolving with slow-moving customers, filled with love and hearty portions of his world-famous dishes. He’d already witnessed three marriage proposals. It still didn’t top the record of five from a few years ago, but it was a good start.
He remembered being a busboy at a restaurant in his native Italy and growing up scraping by to make ends meet. When they moved to America some forty-five years ago, he and Teodora were still barely in their twenties and knew next to no English.
They hustled, working insane jobs that paid very little. They took English courses at night and watched as much American television they could to better grasp the language. Meanwhile, they started a family and taught all of their children the value of a dollar. Gino started his own Italian stand in a remote pocket of L.A. and it grew to a small dive. He purchased a restaurant and the rest as they say, was history.
Enzo was bringing over a friend, as he liked to call the girls he worked with, over to the restaurant that night. Gino silently hoped if this would be the woman for his son.
Angela knew about the restaurant. Everyone did. There was sometimes a waitlist for reservations at the Michelin-starred restaurant. Now everything started to make sense.
She and Jackson had visited Sentiment once, several years ago. It was a celebration of sorts, treating her for bringing home a very large tip and new clients. Though how it came to be there was a celebration, Angela ignored the ugliness of it and focused on the restaurant itself. It was lush with chandeliers, a fresh arrangement of flowers at every table, padded walls covered in dulce de leche color, and a rich aura that was only enhanced by the cheese bar. She would always remember that restaurant specifically because she’d never been to one that had its very own cheese bar.
The food was exquisite and she could still remember how rich and creamy the lobster bisque was. She remembered Jackson had the steak and shared a few bites with her, the meat melting in her mouth. For dessert, they shared a crème brulee that must’ve been sent out of heaven.
She turned to Enzo and began to study his face, thinking that maybe she might have seen him that fateful night and not realize who he was at the time. No, she couldn’t remember. Then again, even if she did see him, what difference would it have really made? She came and left with Jackson.
What did matter, however, is how Enzo was dressed that night. Wearing matching black slacks and blazer that accompanied a crisp, white dress shirt, Enzo was the epitome of a gorgeous power-broker millionaire that she’d read about in the countless romance novels she came to love. She finally figured out she loved those books so much because they fulfilled a fantasy she was never going to get from her reality with Jackson.
“Is everything okay, cuore mio?” Enzo said as he looked out the window. “I feel your tension.”
Angela smiled in embarrassment then turned away. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”
Enzo placed his hand on top of hers and a warmth flooded Angela’s body. He turned to her with a smile and reassurance in his eyes. “Anytime you want to stop this date, just let me know and I’ll call Jackson to pick you up.”
“What does that mean?” Angela asked. “What you just said?”
“About Jackson picking you up?”
“No, before that.” Angela noticed. “You said something in Italian. What did it mean?”
“Cuore mio,” Enzo smiled, “it means my heart.”
A shy smile spread across Angela’s lips and she turned away again. Enzo tightened his grip on her hand and rush of a desire tingled between her thighs. “You don’t know me, Enzo.”
“I want to.”
“You want to save me.” Angela corrected. It wasn’t a question.
“I want to give you an opportunity you won’t get by being with him,” Enzo corrected, his deep voice filling up the car. “It’s up to you if you want it.”
“Have you told this same line to the others?” She questioned.
Enzo chuckled. “I see someone has been utilizing the Google function,” he glanced over to her and Angela sheepishly looked away, “no, I haven’t told them or anyone for that matter, what I’m telling you. I don’t make false promises, Angie. I don’t tell you something is going to happen and it doesn’t. I don’t roll that way.”
“What way do you roll?” She turned to him.
Enzo moved closer to Angela and swept his lips across hers. Little jolts of pleasure built within her as she opened her mouth to accommodate his experienced tongue. For days, she’d been dreaming and fantasizing about this moment; wanting to taste him and have his tongue travel all over her body. She’d often wondered what type of lover Enzo would be. By his size and stature, she expected haste and bruising. Instead she’d received love and warmth from his mouth and she whimpered for more.
Angela slightly fell back on the seat as Enzo leaned over her, his lips trailing from her mouth to her neck, planting small and succulent kisses before he made his way back to her lips where his mouth and tongue devoured hers. A guttural moan escaped his lips and Angela felt her panties instantly dampen.
“Angela,” he moaned in her ear.
Her pussy fluttered with need and just when Angela wanted Enzo to go further, the Bentley came to a halt. They had arrived at Sentiment. “I’ll show you later,” Enzo promised.
Angela silently hoped he would repeatedly show her.