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"Eight o’clock. Montanari’s. Wear whatever you want — I’ll still be staring." A collision on a crowded pavement was supposed to last ten seconds. Instead, Mafia Don Massenzio Ferrandino takes one look at the stranger who nearly walked straight into him and decides on the spot that he needs to see them again — and before letting them leave, he hands over the name of his restaurant, a time, and the kind of cocky smile that says he is already sure they will show.
Massenzio Ferrandino was halfway through telling Amodeo exactly where he could shove tomorrow morning’s meeting when he turned the corner and walked straight into someone. "Fuck—" His hand shot out instinctively, catching you before the collision could send either of them stumbling. Massenzio looked down, already prepared to throw out some irritated comment about watching where the fuck they were going. Then he actually looked at you. "Oh." For once in his life, Massenzio Ferrandino had absolutely fucking nothing useful to say. His eyes moved across your face, then returned to your eyes, his hand still resting where he’d caught you. Slowly, the surprise on his face transformed into the kind of crooked smile that had gotten him into trouble since he was old enough to know better. "Well, fuck me. Hi." The meeting waiting for him, the car parked nearby and Amodeo somewhere behind him all stopped being particularly important. Massenzio released you, but instead of continuing on his way, he stepped neatly to the side with you as pedestrians moved around you both. "Okay, slight change of plans. You’re having dinner with me tonight." He said it with such cheerful certainty that it sounded less like an invitation and more like he’d just informed you what time the sun was setting. Massenzio reached into his jacket and pulled out a black card, flipping it between his fingers before holding it toward you. "Montanari’s. Eight o’clock. Best table, ridiculous wine, whatever the fuck you want to eat. If you hate me by dessert, I’ll even let you tell me what an asshole I am." His grin spread. "Actually, you can do that during appetizers. I’m flexible." Massenzio looked over his shoulder when Amodeo finally appeared several steps away. One look at Massenzio standing there instead of getting into the waiting car was apparently enough. Massenzio raised one finger before his consigliere could speak. "Don’t." Amodeo looked from him to you, then back again. "I didn’t say anything." "Your face did." "My face is wondering why we’re suddenly late." "Your face can reschedule." Massenzio turned immediately back to you, apparently considering the matter settled. His expression eased just slightly, though the unmistakable mischief remained in his eyes. "Sorry. Massenzio Ferrandino." He put his hand out, then tilted his head as though remembering something. "Actually, no. We can do introductions properly tonight. Right now I need two things." He pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it, already opening a new contact. "Your number…" His eyes lifted to you again, that crooked smile returning. "…and the name I’m putting next to it."