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CHAPTER FIFTY TWO ROSE AMARA'S POV He strokes my hand leisurely, as if we're an old couple satisfied with being in each other's company. "After I was separated from Godfather, I had no purpose. I was so used to being his right-hand that I didn't know what to do with my life after. So I decided to go back to my roots, and that wasn't that much of a fun idea. But then, something happened." 'What?" I asked, despite myself. 'You did, Princess." 'Me?" 'After I met you, I saw one of the Godfather's traits in you." 'Which traits?" 'You're special in your own way, but one day, you might end up like him." I get the meaning behind his words without him having to spell it out. He will do something unforgivable one day, and our paths will never cross again. Once he knows what I'm plotting for him, that's probably what will happen. Not releasing my hand, he kicks the car into gear. The entire drive is spent in doomed silence. I take out my phone and focus on replying to mundane emails. However, my mind keeps skipping back to what Ethan told me. My mind goes into overdrive analyzing the bits about his godfather and the organization he spent his entire childhood in. He must have suffered when he was younger. He must've been robbed of fundamental human rights. I thought my childhood was screwed up, but it doesn't compare to his. However, does that give him the right to screw other lives over? Mine included? The car stops before a fancy Italian restaurant, cutting off my thoughts. I step out but ignore his elbow when he offers it to me. When the host asks us if we have a reservation, Ethan offers her his charming smile. 'Nicolo's friends, love. Tell him Ethan sends his regards." Her eyes nearly bug out, and she appears flustered as she calls for one of the waiters. "Of course, sir. Welcome." So this is one of the Italians' businesses. I've never been here before, but I rarely eat out anyway. Zeth and Eya never join me at the table and remain on guard, and I hate having them alert in public places. I'm not surprised that Ethan is close enough to the underboss, to the point of using his name for favors. He's a snake that way and has the best connections to the heads of crime organizations through Adrian. The waiter guides us to a table that's out of view near the wall. No window is close by, and the other patrons are far away. This is why I don't like eating out; the entire experience is tarnished by security measures. I order pasta with seafood, and Ethan calls it some complicated Italian dish I'm sure will taste like sh-t. He then asks the waiter for a 1979 Château Grand-Marteau wine. The waiter brings the bottle back, smiling as he carefully opens it. 'Excellent taste, sir." After the waiter pours him a glass, Ethan swirls the wine and inhales before nodding. 'Thank you." The waiter places the bottle on the table with extra care, as if it's some sort of national treasure. While we wait for our food, Ethan pours me a glass. 'What's the occasion?" I asked. 'There doesn't need to be an occasion for us to drink good wine." 'I didn't know you liked wine." His sharp stare pins me in place over the rim of his cup. 'Know?" Sh-t. This is why spending more time with him is dangerous. I fall into easy conversation with him and forget about my amnesia plan. Thankfully, I recovered quickly. 'You look like the strong-stuff type." "I prefer wine, but it doesn't suit my killer image, so I've been hiding it." I put a smile on my napkin. Who knew Ethan was more of the wine type? 'What are you laughing at, Princess?" 'Your love for wine." "Those who have not tasted good wine, not the cheap stuff, are missing out." 'You just don't look like a wine person." 'And what type of person do I look like?" He places the glass close to his nose and inhales deeply. 'I don't know. Maybe Jack Daniels." 'Well, the last time I bought Jack Daniel's, we had so much fun on our wedding night." My cheeks feel like they're on fire. 'I don't remember that." 'I do, and that's enough." He pauses. 'For now." I take the glass, attempting to drink it all in one go, but Ethan places his hand on top of mine. His touch is soft, almost like he's trying to touch my hand and other invisible parts of me. His eyes gleam as he speaks in a seductive tone. 'You have to smell it first." 'Is that a rule?" "No, but you'll enjoy it much better." I'll be damned if I believe another word out of his mouth, but I do as I'm told anyway and sniff the wine. It does smell good, fermented, and a bit old. It's like I could get drunk on the smell alone. I take my first sip, closing my eyes to relish the taste that fills my throat. 'How does it feel?" I open my eyes at Ethan's voice, not realizing I closed them for long. 'It's fine." "It's more than fine. It's exquisite." His eyes never leave mine as he speaks and sips from his glass. Then he licks the wine off his lips as his gaze slowly slides into my breasts. I cleared my throat. 'I'm up here." He doesn't break eye contact. 'You're also down there." Jerk. He has an infuriating type of confidence that can't be measured or contained. A jerk through and through. My phone vibrates before I can give him a piece of my mind. Hades. He wouldn't call unless it was an emergency. I abandoned the glass on the table and stood up. 'I have to take this call." 'Who is it?" 'Work-related." I left before he could ask me anymore. I went round the corner toward a small back terrace and no one was around before answering. "Is everything all right?" 'No. Evie called Uncle and told him if he doesn't retreat, he'll bring in the Italians, and it'll be a bloodbath." 'That f-cker." 'We need to move before they do. The one you mentioned—will he be useful?" 'Yes." 'Is he someone I know?" 'More than you know." 'Who?" 'Ethan." There's a pause on the other end before he repeats, 'Ethan?" 'I'll tell you all about it later. I have to go back before he suspects me." 'Are you sure about this, Rose?" A part of me isn't, but that part is the same one who cried for the bastard after he left me. That part is the one that was broke after I listened to Ethan's plans for my family. So no, that part won't handle this. 'Yeah, I'm sure." I slipped my hand into my bag and grabbed the small medicine bottle. Drinking wine won't be the same again for him. I've heard stories about the black widow spider who kills her mate after mating. I found it fascinating how she followed her instinct, even if it meant killing her husband. We're the same that way.