When Fallon had entered the bar hours earlier, she’d envisioned an evening spent alone with the documents in her purse, envisioning the future of her bakery. However, Vincent’s interruption proved once again that Fallon simply could not say no to an interesting conversation. She finishes off her last bit of wine, feeling a bit triumphant as Vincent seems to give in to her request for coffee.
What happens next is something Fallon simply couldn’t make sense of. The gentleman flagging Vincent down truly seemed in desperate need of help. I was supposed to meet a colleague of mine, Vincent’s words from earlier in the evening echoes in Fallon’s ears as she looks over the mess of a man before them. Vincent’s cold, calculated voice in his discussion is a far cry from the teasing whispers from before.
As the events transpire, Fallon is left with one question: Confront Vincent about the conversation now, or later?
Later, she decides, enjoying Vincent’s company too much to potentially disrupt it. As they slip out of the club, Fallon sinks back into his arm, biting her lower lip. “There’s a little Italian place a few blocks from here,” she points down the street to their left. “It’s a cute little place – never too busy, great coffee and great atmosphere. I recommend getting one of the ristretto espresso macchiatos, they’re the best I’ve had in the city.” Fallon takes the lead, entirely aware of his hand pressing into her back as they walk. The two stop, waiting for traffic to clear before crossing the street.
As they wait, she turns to face him, pressing herself against his body and standing on her tip-toes to reach his ear. “Your company seems to be in pretty high demand, mister Terranova,” she whispers, her lips grazing the soft skin of the curve of his ear. “But don’t fret,” Fallon continues, a grin forming. “I’m worth the time.”
The confrontation between him and the man was already slipping from his mind, too minuscule of a detail to worry about. No, right now his attention was solely focused on the lady next to him. She was something else entirely, she intrigued him and kept him guessing. It was rare for him to be as in tune to someone as he was to her in that moment. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, full of confidence and intelligence. He was pulled from his musings as her words drifted musically to his ears.
“Italian?” His nose wrinkled in feigned disgust, eyes rolling heavenward as if she were asking him to do something obscene. After a few moments silence he looks down at her, a soft grin curling at his lips. “Sounds fantastic. Of course, since this was your idea, I assume you’ll be paying?” His words teased her gently, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he watched her expression. It was a test of sorts, to see how she’d act, of course he had no intentions of letting her spend a dime this evening.
“What can I say? I’m an important man.” Vincent smirks at her touch, the whisper of her lips against his ear. His hands slide down her sides to rest on her hips, his eyes flickering teasingly to hers as he leans down, his lips a mere breath a way. He is so close that his lips brush gently against hers when he speaks. “I have no doubts about that, Ms. Free.” Ever so softly he nips at her bottom lip, never having fully kissed her other than the faint brush of lips while he spoke. He pulls away, his hand once more finding its place on the small of her back. “Lead the way.”
