the best in New York.” He grinned softly which looked genuine. It didn’t feel like some elaborate ploy to get closer to me. I wanted to slap myself for thinking this, but his offer felt heartfelt and sweet.
My knees twitched yet again as I looked into those dark brown eyes. “Down girl,” I internally told myself. This was already turning into code red. I couldn’t possibly find myself attracted to this guy. I had to remind myself that he was the enemy, and I refused to let my body react. C’mon Norah, your mind knows better than this. It did know better, but I was still drawn to him, perhaps out of curiosity. I had a bad habit of that. Looking into things I probably shouldn’t. Taking unnecessary risks. But old habits die hard.
“You want me to go with you, to Central Park, for a cannoli?” I was blushing and considering his offer, and I was also doing my best to hide it from his eyes that still gazed longingly at my face. He had now tilted his head so his look was even softer than before. I gulped, knowing that I was feeling the effect of his charm.
“Yes, and to talk of course. Cannoli and conversation. Can you think of anything better Lenorah?”
I smiled back. I couldn’t help it. As much as I didn’t want to encourage this fruitless encounter, I was still very curious as to how far this guy would try and take it. I should have been more worried about my safety, especially given who he was, but a voice inside me was saying not to panic, that it was OK, that it didn’t sense any threat or danger.
“As a matter of fact, I can’t,” I replied honestly. One of us had to be.
Samuel motioned his hand in the direction behind him. I had just finished my classes today and was heading home. Usually on these days, my Dad’s men didn’t bother waiting outside NYU because they knew I headed straight back to the apartment, and I thanked my lucky stars that they weren’t around to see this. I mean, if this sight got back to my father...
Samuel was right about the tiny Italian dessert cart. It’s selection of authentic cannoli were the best I had ever seen, but I settled on a cinnamon one before we took a seat at a nearby park bench. Samuel got one that had been dipped in chocolate. The guy had a sweet tooth, and for some reason, I mentally stored that information. I don’t know why I was already taking notes about this guy. It’s not like I would ever see him again after today. Remembering that, I decided the best thing to do now, was to just force the end of this meeting. I was enjoying this dangerous liaison, but I knew I couldn’t let it persist much further. I had to get home, and I much preferred to keep the memory of our meeting as something sweet rather than sour.
“So what’s your last name Samuel?” I knew just by asking, that it would lead to the end of this, ummm, date, quickly. I felt a little sad for blurting out the question, but really, what was the point of stretching it out.
“It’s Voltaggio,” he said bluntly, looking to me for recognition. He said it so quickly, no hesitation or hiding, but definitely with a hint of guilt. Perhaps he thought I wouldn’t put two and two together and the conversation about our backgrounds would happen at a later time.
“That sounds familiar,” I said, taking a big bite of my cannoli. He watched me eat it before responding again.
“Hmmm does it? I suppose I should ask you the same thing then. What’s yours Lenorah?”
I thought about lying, but only for a second as something inside me wasn’t quite ready to say good-bye. But I couldn’t play the same game as Samuel, it just wasn’t my style. “Mine is Rossi,” I said taking note of his reaction, knowing my name would probably make him want to open fire on innocent bystanders. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared hearing the name. Years of hatred were embedded in the word, I was certain.
Any minute now we would bid each other ‘adieu’ and we would be on our way, our paths never to cross again.
“Rossi? Rossi? Rossi?” he chanted, trying to see if he could place the name in his head.
Seriously Samuel! I appreciated him playing dumb, but I knew I