She laughed as she stepped into the living area of his suite. “But you have a whole kitchen staff.”
“I also know where Señora Ortiz’s talents lie, and it’s not with your favorite.”
She was intrigued now. “My favorite?”
He nodded. “I sent Marco off to pick it up for us. It’s a surprise.”
He looked so pleased with himself she couldn’t help but smile in return, and feel a little bit special. She didn’t really have a favorite; she’d traveled extensively and enjoyed several kinds of foods. But clearly Raoul had put some thought and effort into this, so she’d go along and enjoy it.
“Prosecco?”
He held up a bottle that he’d had chilling and she nodded. One glass only; she had to go back to her apartment after dinner, but that was probably a few hours away. Raoul popped the cork and then handed her a glass. He poured while she held, and when he had a glass of his own, he touched the rim to hers. “I don’t want to sound trite or cheesy, so I’ll just say cheers, Steph. Thank you for coming to dinner.”
It was so lovely and genuine that she clinked back at him and said, “Yamas,” before taking a healthy sip.
“I sometimes forget you’re half Greek,” Raoul said, sipping his own. “You hardly ever speak it.”
“That’s because we use mostly English and Spanish here. It’s still the language of my home, though.”
“Have you considered going back?”
She nearly bobbled her glass and wondered for a split second if he knew how to access her private email. Of course he must, because they’d hired someone to do just that when Diego’s former assistant had leaked photos and information to the press. Did Raoul somehow know that she’d received a reply just today from a member of the Greek cabinet? Working on her home country’s education portfolio would be a wonderful job, wouldn’t it?
Except it wouldn’t be here. Greece was her home country, but it wasn’t home anymore.
Another knock sounded at the door, preventing her from responding to Raoul’s question. He answered it and then returned with a large bag in his hands. “Are you ready?”
He put the bag down on the table and started taking out dishes. It only took a moment for her to realize he’d ordered sushi, something that was never served at the palace and was, indeed, one of her particular favorites. “Oh, yum!” she exclaimed, peering around his arm and into the rest of the bag. “You got so much!”
“We can take any that’s left and put it in the fridge downstairs for tomorrow’s lunch,” Raoul suggested. “If there’s any left. I’m starving.”
She sat at the little table and began opening containers. They started with miso soup, hot and tasty. Then once that was gone, she picked up her chopsticks and selected from the tray of maki. Flavor exploded in her mouth and she closed her eyes. “Oh, that’s good,” she murmured, before reaching for another roll. “And you got sashimi, too.”
“I got a little bit of everything. If there’s something you don’t like, I probably will.” He grinned. “You know, when I was at university, my guilty pleasures were sushi and really good curries.”
“No pizza or late-night hamburgers for you?”
He laughed. “How about you? Did you go on any late-night food runs?”
Ceci had been studying in Barcelona and Stephani had gone to see her and stayed a whole month. “Ceci and I . . . we would go out and on the way back to her flat, there was this churro guy. We stopped every single time.” She smiled softly at the memory. “I guess I’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth.”
“You really had some good times together.”
“The best.”
She toyed with a piece of tuna, then looked up at him. “This is really nice, Raoul. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I wanted something private, and I wanted you to be comfortable. I hope you are.”
She nodded, watching as he swirled his California roll in wasabi. “Is that why you ordered in? So it would be private?”
He lifted his gaze. “Partly. Marco can be utterly trusted, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’ve been thinking about how to do this without the staff seeing and talking.” He put down his chopsticks. “Sometimes the lack of privacy here is a real pain.”
She laughed a little. “Well, you could ask Rose and Diego, but they didn’t do a great job of covering their tracks, either. I don’t like the idea of being a topic of conversation, but I’m not sure how we’re going to be able to avoid it, especially if I keep having private dinners in your suite.”
He held up the prosecco bottle, but she shook her head. “I have to drive,” she said.
He refilled his glass, then went to a little fridge and took out a bottle of water, uncapped it, and handed it to her. “I’d say Marco could take you home, but you’d refuse, wouldn’t you?”