'I Do' For Revenge
Chapter 203: Date With Tye-2
CHAPTER 203: DATE WITH TYE-2
~HELENA~
"I told you. Italian place," Tye said, moving through traffic with ease. "Best carbonara in the city. Family-own ed. Been around for fifty years. It’s in Little Italy."
"Sounds perfect," I said.
"It is," he said. "Fair warning though, the owner, Maria, she’s going to try to feed you until you e xplode. And she’s going to ask a lot of personal questions."
"Personal questions?"
"She’s traditional," Tye said. "She’s going to ask if we’re to gether. If I’m treating you right. If my int entions are h onourable. The whole thing."
"And w hat are you going to tell her?" I asked, f eelin g my heart beating faster.
Tye was qui et for a moment. Then he glanced at me with a s erious expression.
"The truth," he said. "That I brought the most beautiful woman I know to her restaurant because I wanted to s pend time with her. That I’ve been thinking about her for weeks. That I’m hoping she gives me a chance to prove I’m not just the guy who doubted her."
My breath caught in my throat.
"And that yes, " he continued, re turning his gaze back to the road, "my intentions are very honourable. Because she deserves that."
I did n’t know what to say. My heart was hammering so hard I was sure he cou ld hear it.
"Tye..." I started.
"Too much?" he asked, glancing at me with a hint of vu lnerability. "Sorry. I’ve been told I’m not great at subtlety."
"No," I said quickly, reaching over to t ouch his arm. "Not too much. Perfect, actually."
His entire face lit up with a genuine smile as he reached across and took my hand.
—
The restaurant was intimate, lit by candles a nd hidden away in a quiet part of the city. Just like Tye had p romised, Maria had tried to feed us until we couldn’t move, and she’d absolu tely grilled Tye about his intentions while I sat there blushing.
We had finished our pasta, which Tye was right about – it was life-changing – and were now li ngeri ng over a sh ared tiramisu.
The dessert sat betwe en us, but neither of us was really eating it anymore. We were just... talking.
The conver sation had flowed easier than I expected. We talked about Layla, about the rebu ilding of the towe r, about my br others and how they were adjusting.
But as the wine went down and the rest aurant began to empty around us, the questions got deeper.
"So," I said, tracing the rim of my wine glass. "You work for the O’Briens. You handle security. But... y ou move like a so ldier. Or something else. There’s something about the way you carry yourself."
Tye leaned ba ck in his chair, the candlelight flickering in his dark eyes. "I was in the life. A long time a go."
"The mafia?" I whispered, l eaning forward.
"The Syndicate," he corrected in a low voice. "My dad was the leader. After his death, I took over. Broken kneecap s, collection runs, protection rackets. That kind of thing."
I watched him carefully. I shoul d have been scared. A week ago, I would have been. But looking at him now, all I saw was the man who had bought my brothers video game s and held my hand when I was crying .
"Why did you leave?" I asked softly.
"Axel," he said simply, taking a sip of his water. "Well, technically, I didn’t leave completely. I still lead the organisation, but we’re into legal stuff now. Import and exp ort of tech gadg ets, weapons, security equipment... anything a security company or the police or military would need. We went legitimate."
"How did Axel help you do that?"
"He believed in me wh en no one else did," Tye said. "He gave me a purpose that didn’t involve hurting people w ho didn’t deserve it. N ow, I use my skills to protect people instead of threatening them. I still do that for those who step on my toes , but that’s it. It’s... cleaner... better for the soul."
He set his water down and looked at me directly. "What about you, He lena? What’s the dream? You goin g t o be an EA forever?"
"Actually, I love my job," I said honestly. "And it got better since I s tarted working for Layla. She’s ama zing. Especially now, aft er everything."
"But?" Tye prompted.
"But.. . if I’m being totally honest?"
"Be honest," he said, leaning forward.
"I want to open a bakery," I admitt ed, feeling my cheeks heat up. "I know, it’s such a cliché. But my mom used to bake. It was the only time the house smelled good, you know? Be fore she got sick. Before everything fell apart. I want to make things that make people happy. Cakes, pastries, bre ad. Things that feel like home."
Tye didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile dismissively. He looked at me wit h intense focus, like he was seein g something important.
"You’d be good at it," he said seriously. "You have the patience for it. The attention to detail. And you’re sweet. Everything y ou make would be sweet."
"I’m not that sweet," I argued playfully, trying to lighten the momen t. "I almost hit you with a lamp, remember?"
Tye laughed, and t he deep, rumblin g sound vibrated in my chest. "Tru e. You have a l ittle fire in you. I like that. Sweet but dangerous. My favourite combination."
The waiter came with the check, and Tye paid before I could eve n reach for my purse.
"Come on," he said, standing and offering me his hand. "Let’s get some air."
We walked out of the restaurant into the cool night air. T he street was qu iet , mostly empty ex cept f or a few c ouple s walking hand in hand.
We walked s ide b y side toward his car, our shoulders brushing with ev ery step. The tension that had been building all night... heck, all week, was pract ically electric now.
We reach ed his car, but he didn’t unlock it. Instead, he leaned back against the passenger door, crossing his arms and looking down at me.
"I had a good tim e tonight, Helena," he said s oftly.
"Me too," I said, steppin g a lit tle closer. "Thank you. For everything. For dinner, for the games, for—"
"Stop thanking me," he murmured, his voi ce dropping lowe r.
"Why?"
"B ecause," he said, pushing off the car and t aking a step toward me, closing the gap between us until there was barely any space left. "I didn’ t do it for credit. I didn’t do it for gratitude. I did it because I wanted to see you smile again. You looked so scared and broken in that safe house, and I hated it."
My brea th hitched . He was so close now I could feel th e heat radiating off him, smell his cologne, see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes.
"I’m not scared now," I whispe r ed.
"No?" Tye asked, his voice dropping to a low growl. His hand came up slowly , his thumb brushing my cheekbone, traci ng the line of my jaw with feather-light touches. "You sure? Becaus e I’m a dangerous guy, He le na. Mafia guy, remember? Scarred up, complicated, with violent past."
I reached up and placed my hand over his on my f ace, holding it there. "I think you’re just a guy who needs someone to trust. Someone who sees past the scars."
Tye’s eyes darkened, his pupils dilating. He didn’t say anything else. He just lowered his head slowly , giving me every c hance to pull away.
I didn’t.
When his lips touch ed mine, it wasn’t tentative or gentle. It was hungry, like a claim.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, melting into him.
He tasted like wine and es presso and something uniquely him. His arms went around my waist, pulling me flush against his hard body, lifting me slightly off the ground so our heights matched perfectly.
The kiss deepened, be coming desperate. It was like a release of all the fear an d adrenaline of the last fe w days.
When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breath less. Tye rested his forehead against mine, his hands still gripping my waist tig htly, like he was afraid to let go.
"Wow," I whispered.
"Yeah," Tye breathed, his chest heaving. "Wow."
He pulled back slightly to look at me, his eyes searching mine. I could see the dark, intense desire in t hem.
"I don’t want to take you home yet," he admitted. "Don’t get me wrong. Your br others are great, but... I don’t want to say goodnight. Not yet."
"I don’t want to say go odnight either," I whispered in response.
"Do you want to come to my place?" Tye asked carefully, watching my reaction. "It’s quiet. No roommates. No video games. No interruption s. We could... talk more. Or not talk. Whatever you want."
I smiled, biting my lip. My heart was racing, but I wasn’t scared. I was rather excited. "And what exactly are we going to do at your place, Tye?"
That dangerous, cha rming grin returned in full force, and he smirked. He leane d in close, his hot breath on my skin as he whispered in my ear, sending shivers racing down my spine.
"I was thinking we c ould discuss your business plan for that bakery. Go over numbers, locations, t arget demographics..." He paused, his lips brushing my ear. "Or... I could show you my scars. Tell you the story behind ever y single one."
I laughed, a breathless sound that came out more like a gasp. "I thin k I’d like to see the scar s."
"Yeah?" he asked, pulling back to look at me.
"Yeah," I confirmed, my voice steady despite my racing heart.
Tye ope ned the car door for me, placing his hand on the small of my back. "Get i n the car, Helena."