Cold-Hearted by Christy Rose

as she dug her nails into my chest. I chuckled to myself as Nicole shrieked for her life. She'd be moaning my name soon enough.
     
    We arrived at the restaurant that faced a busy street. I parked around the back at the valet. I lifted Brook off and set her down. I unsnapped the chin strap and set my helmet in front of the bike. Nicole peeled the helmet from her head and she couldn't stop laughing.
     
    “What is it?” I asked. Not the reaction I was expecting after riding a motorcycle for the first time.
     
    Nicole laughed harder and her hair was a mess from the helmet. “That was the most fun I've had in my entire life.” Nicole had a an innocence that hadn't been tainted yet. My innocence was stolen from me when my brother died.
     
    “I'm glad you liked it.” I handed the keys to the valet who looked just as excited as Nicole to ride a motorcycle.
     
    Nicole looked up at the restaurant's sign. “San Giovanni's? Isn't this where all the celebrities go to eat?”
     
    I nodded and led her inside. The restaurant was empty except for the maitre d' and a lone waiter. The place was exceptionally tiny for a restaurant. The entire place only sat around sixteen people. San Giovanni's specialized in ultra-expensive dining so they only needed to fill a few tables a night.
     
    “Good evening, sir,” the maitre d' announced. I smiled and escorted Nicole as we followed him to our table. I pulled the chair out for Nicole and winked. Her face lit up as she took her seat. The maitre d' bowed and left us.
     
    “Where is everyone?” Nicole whispered across the table.
     
    I unwrapped my white napkin, set the silverware down, and placed it across my lap. “They're closed.” Nicole looked confused so I elaborated. “We helped the owner out a while back with some fuckers that kept breaking their front window.”
     
    She nodded with her mouth open. I didn't want to tell her too much—we killed the three guys and buried them out in the middle of the desert. Those details could be left secret.
     
    The waiter arrived wearing a black and white outfit with a bow-tie. He handed us two long menus. “The chef is prepared to cook anything you desire.”
     
    I left my menu closed on the table as I stared at Nicole. Her eyes were big as she scanned all the items. Most of the menu was in Italian and she tried to mouth the difficult words. “Anything look good?” I asked.
     
    She looked back at me with a look of terror. “Well, I'm having a hard time figuring out what they serve here.”
     
    I laughed and snatched the menu from her. “Do you like chicken?”
     
    Nicole nodded and blushed. What I wouldn't do to make her blush like that all night.
     
    I waved the waiter over and shot a wink to Nicole. “We'll both be getting the Chicken Vesuvio tonight.”
     
    “Excellent choice, sir. Anything to drink?”
     
    I'd kill to have a pint of beer but this place wasn't the type. “Surprise me with a nice bottle of red.”
     
    “Of course.” The waiter bowed and left us.
     
    “What's Vesuvio?” Nicole asked.
     
    “It's a meat cooked in white wine served with potatoes and peas.”
     
    “Sounds delicious. I don't think I've had a really authentic dish from Italy.”
     
    I chuckled. “You'll have to try something else because this meal originated in Chicago.”
     
    Nicole looked fascinated. “How do you know all this stuff? Are you Italian?”
     
    “No, actually my parents are Scottish and Irish. I've just eaten here so much that I've picked up on a few things.”
     
    Nicole fiddled around with the silverware on the table when the waiter came over. He placed two wine glasses in front of us and popped the cork. I stared into Nicole's eyes as she watched with wonder as the waiter expertly poured the wine.
     
    I took a sip of wine and let the alcohol calm my nerves. Why was my body reacting this way to Nicole? She was just another chick. Just another girl to bed and forget. But I'd never taken a girl on a “date”