Malachi couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy before.
Before Lara.
Nor had he realized, until thoughts of her filled his every waking hour, how inwardly lonely he’d really been all these years.
He hadn’t thought he felt that way, but just a few days of wondering if “Lara would like this” or if “she would like that,” and he now knew exactly how empty his heart and mind had been without her in his life.
“Let’s take this off before we go in.” Lara came to a halt outside the door of the Italian restaurant to reach up and unfasten Malachi’s bow tie before removing it. She then unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt and stepped back. “Better.” She nodded her approval of his more casual appearance.
The enticing smells outside the restaurant were nothing compared to the even more delicious ones once they had opened the door. It was a strong mixture of garlic and herbs, no doubt designed to make the patrons’ mouths water in anticipation.
“Lara!” A plump middle-aged lady, obviously of Italian origin from her slightly swarthy complexion, rushed over to hug Lara the moment the two of them entered the busy and noisy room. “And who is this?” The woman stepped back to look at Malachi. “Lara, is this il amichetto?”
“I am,” Malachi answered smoothly, having easily translated the older woman questioning Lara as to whether he was her boyfriend.
Dark eyes widened appreciatively. “You speak Italian?”
“I do. And I’m probably a little too old for the ‘boy’ part of that description,” he acknowledged ruefully.
“Pfft,” the older woman dismissed. “Some men are like a fine wine. Maturity only makes them more…enjoyable. Something to be savored rather than hurried.”
“Mama!” Lara chuckled, a blush on her cheeks. “This is Malachi Kingston. Malachi, meet Rosa Rosetti, our hostess and part owner of this wonderful restaurant, along with her husband who cooks all the delicious food.”
Malachi frowned his displeasure at her lack of a description as to what he was to her. “I’m Lara’s boyfriend,” he reiterated firmly as he held out his hand.
Rosa ignored his hand and hugged him instead. She launched into a burst of Italian directed at Lara as she stepped away.
“The demands of my job ensure I don’t need to ‘work out’ to keep this ‘hard and muscular body,’” Malachi interpreted when she’d finished. “And yes, it is like this all over.” He laughed as he saw Lara’s face was growing redder and redder.
“Don’t ask, Rosa,” Lara warned the other woman firmly as she decisively linked her arm with Malachi’s. “Do you have a table for us?”
“Always.” Rosa turned and walked the length of the busy restaurant before halting beside a cozy booth at the back of the room. “I will bring over your breadsticks and water and then take your order for food and wine, yes?”
“Perhaps mention to Papa that Malachi might have a few…personal requests regarding the food,” Lara said lightly as she slid onto the leather seat, Malachi following behind her.
“No one could possibly be as particular about his food as our own son, and he somehow managed to live to adulthood.” Rosa chuckled before bustling off to the kitchen.
“As Rosa has already mentioned him, I’m sure she won’t mind me telling you that their son, Marco Junior, is severely autistic,” Lara explained softly. “To his father’s dismay, when Marco was a child, he would only eat absolutely plain pasta and white bread without butter, and he would only drink water with it. To add insult to injury, the only thing Junior would eat with tomato sauce was tinned spaghetti hoops. He eats more things now he’s an adult, but he still won’t have anything with a sauce on it or which doesn’t look like exactly what it is.”
Malachi eyed her appreciatively. “Which is why you knew my food preferences and I would be made welcome here.”
“Yes.”
Malachi wouldn’t have thought it possible, but at that moment, he felt his heart swell even more with his deepening love for Lara.
“From Rosa’s familiarity, I’m guessing you’re a regular customer here?” It made sense when her apartment was only a block away.
She smiled fondly. “I actually worked here during the three years of my university nurses training course. My mother and father paid for my tuition, but I insisted on helping to pay for whatever else I could. To do that, I worked here part-time. Rosa and Marco took me in as one of their own and were always willing to be accommodating with the hours I could work.”
“And now you come here often as a customer,” Malachi guessed.
“Now I come here often as a customer,” she confirmed. “Not just because I love Rosa and Marco, but also because I know the food is always going to be freshly cooked and delicious.”
Malachi liked having just the two of them sitting together in this private booth, talking and learning more about each other.
Which the two of them did for the next couple of hours as they ate the Italian food and drank a bottle of red wine recommended by Rosa. Marco Rosetti Senior came out to say hello when he personally delivered their main course. As well as the plain pasta for Malachi, the other man had added separate side dishes of a cup of fresh sliced vegetables and a bowl containing a portion of plainly cooked and sliced chicken.
“It is my son’s favorite meal as an adult,” he explained when Malachi thanked him for his thoughtfulness.
To show his appreciation Malachi ate every bit of the food he’d been given.
As he also ate the fresh strawberries and separate chocolate sauce Lara chose for them to share as a dessert. In fact, the whole meal had passed without a single word or moment of contention between the two of them or the fear of insulting the chef.
Lara had done all this for him without making any fuss about it whatsoever. Unlike the other women he’d gone out to dinner with in the past, Lara had simply accommodated the situation rather than criticised his idiosyncrasies, or “bloody weirdness,” as one woman had called it.
“I didn’t think it was possible,” he told her huskily, “but I’m pretty sure that I’ve fallen even more in love with you during the course of this evening.”
* * *
Lara’s cheeks warmed as she looked up from where her hands were cradling the cup of latte coffee she’d requested. Malachi had predicably asked for a black coffee without sugar.
She carefully placed the cup back on its saucer before lifting her chin, ensuring her steady gaze met Malachi’s. “Would you like to prove it?” she invited softly.
He looked at her searchingly. “Is that an invitation to go back to your apartment?”
Lara straightened her spine. “It is.”
“Can I stay?”
“Yes.”
“I hope you know what that means.”
“What does it mean?”
“That making love fully together is a commitment, and I will never let you go.”
“What if I don’t want you to?”
“Then I’ll pay the bill— No?” he voiced his uncertainty when Lara shook her head.
“My restaurant, my treat,” she stated. “And no, Rosa isn’t going to think badly of you if you aren’t the one paying for our dinner,” she teased over his awkward glance in the older woman’s direction as Rosa bustled about the room serving customers. “But I certainly will, if you insist on doing it.” She raised questioning brows.
* * *
Malachi wasn’t about to argue against Lara’s need for independence. He might not always understand social cues and nuances, but he could certainly identify the glitter of challenge in her eyes. Besides, his brothers had told him that just because he could, didn’t mean he should. In this case, he knew that meant that just because he had more money than Lara, didn’t mean he had to throw that wealth in her face by insisting on paying for their dinner.
So instead of arguing, he did what else his brothers had told him was the polite thing to do in these circumstances. “Thank you. I very much enjoyed the food, the evening, and most of all, the company.”
Lara smiled widely. “I really like you, Malachi Kingston!”
Malachi recognized that for exactly the compliment it was. “I like you too.” He reached over to place his hand over one of hers as it rested on the tabletop. “I don’t want to put a dampener on the evening by talking about Gerard Taylor—”
“Then don’t,” she cut in quickly. “Let’s just take one night together before we have to face that reality again.”
He grimaced. “I just don’t want you to accuse me in the morning of keeping something back from you.”
“What did the bastard do now?”
He drew in a deep breath before speaking. “We now know for certain that it wasn’t Taylor’s concern that your brother might become violent that caused him to hire a team from Kingston Security to act as twenty-four-seven bodyguards.”
Her expression sharpened. “Then why did he?”
“There are ten other victims.” His brother had been correct in his belief those other names on the file each represented another person Taylor had drugged and filmed, and then blackmailed. “Seven women, three men.”
“That’s…”
“Disgusting? Revolting? Nauseating?”
She swallowed. “All of the above. Why is he doing this? He must be rich to live where he does, and he doesn’t seem to actually work at anything either, implying he’s independently wealthy. So why does he do this to people? Is it just because he can? Or because he enjoys it?”
“Casper’s looking deeper into his background right now, rather than just the surface crap he fed us originally and the stuff we found on the internet. So far, he’s discovered that Taylor is living way above the yearly payments provided by his trust fund, which could account for why he chooses victims he believes will help bolster that income in one way or another.”
“Like blackmailing enough drugs for him to sell, in Thom’s case.”
“Exactly.” A nerve pulsed in Malachi’s jaw. “We believe it’s one of his other victims who’s stalking him, possibly with the end intent of physical violence.”
“I’ll hold their coat for them. But let’s not talk about this anymore right now,” Lara stated firmly. “We can’t do anything about it tonight, so let’s just go to my apartment, spend the night together, and look at this again fresh in the morning. Sound good?”
“It sounds better than good.” He frowned. “How would you say that? Is there such a word as betterer? I think there is, but I can’t be sure—”
“Malachi.”
He continued to frown as he focused on her. “Hm?”
“You’re prevaricating. Waffling. Deliberately time wasting,” she teased. “Anyone would think you didn’t want to spend the night with me.”
“I absolutely do,” he insisted fiercely.
“But…”
“There are no buts. I’m just nervous,” he admitted with a grimace. “This is just so important to me. You and our relationship are important to me, and I really don’t want to do or say anything to screw it up.”
Lara chuckled huskily. “You won’t.”
“I almost did last night when I left without even saying goodbye properly.”
“And then you regrouped today by asking me out to dinner.”
He winced. “I told you I would pick you up for dinner at seven thirty.”
“Same outcome.”
“I left you hanging all night wondering whether I was coming back.”
“Not your finest hour,” she admitted. “But you’ve made up for it since.”
“But what if I—”
“Malachi, you won’t mess anything up.” She leaned in to press her lips against his. “We have this, okay.” She smiled at him confidently. “Together, we can do anything.”
The absolute certainty in her gaze seeped inside Malachi, filling him, warming him, reassuring him. “Then take me home.”
For Malachi, anywhere with Lara was home to him now.