When he sat in his seat, the car dipped noticeably under his weight. “Where do you want to go?”
“Oh, I get to choose?”
He looked out the windshield with one arm resting on the center console, taking up all the free space in the car. “I always let the lady choose.”
I rolled my eyes and hit the gas.
The waiter came to our table. “Can I interest you in a bottle of wine—”
The answer came out so fast, he was slightly stunned. “Yes. A cab from Barsetti Vineyards.”
The Skull King didn’t seem offended by my need for alcohol. “She can have the bottle. I’ll take a scotch on the rocks. Let’s do an appetizer too, whatever you recommend.” He ordered without taking his eyes off me, having the confidence to run the conversation without eye contact.
“Very well.” The waiter walked away.
I couldn’t believe I was sitting across from this guy, the very guy who’d had me in a locked cage. My arms crossed over my chest, I stared at him incredulously. I even shook my head slightly because I couldn’t even convince myself this was real.
We were silent until the waiter returned and poured my glass of wine and served him a scotch.
I grabbed the glass and downed the entire contents with a single go. The waiter barely had time to place bruschetta on the table before he picked up the bottle and refilled my glass. “I’ll give you a few minutes…” He disappeared.
I grabbed a few pieces of the bruschetta and placed it on my plate. No amount of discomfort could chase away my appetite. I danced my heart out every night, pushed my feet to the brink, gave it my all. And now, I was starving.
He took a few sips of his drink as he stared at me, relaxed, like there was nothing odd about this dinner. He was in a gray V-neck and black jeans, his muscular size undeniable. The cut of his t-shirt showed he had ink to his collarbone, and there seemed to be a hint of hair underneath too.
“Well?”
“Well, what?” He didn’t take the bread from the center of the table, letting me have all of it.
“What do you want with me?”
“I told you our conversation wasn’t over.” He held the glass to his lips for a moment as he stared at me before he took a sip. “Do you want to answer my question?”
I took a few bites of the appetizer, my stomach rumbling with gratitude. “Why is it important to you?”
“Curious. When I dropped you off, I was sure that decision would bite me in the ass. I was surprised when it never did.”
When I went to Damien’s and rushed into his arms, I’d intended to tell him everything. But once I was there, looking into his eyes, I’d suddenly changed my mind. “I was going to…”
His blue eyes were an odd color for his features, because they were so soft when the rest of him was hard. He always had a dark expression, always had a formidable air to him, but then he had the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. “What changed your mind?”
The only reason I was there with him was because I believed I wasn’t in danger. If he intended to do me harm, he would’ve done it already. He wouldn’t let me sit behind the wheel. He wouldn’t invite me to a public place. He was proving he was no threat to me. “Because you let me go.”
“I never gave you conditions for your freedom. I never asked for your silence.”
“I know. But it seemed like you spared me because you wanted to, and I thought keeping it a secret was a good way to repay your kindness.” When he’d first taken me, he’d seemed much more callous than he did when he released me, as if something changed, as if he didn’t wanna do it anymore. Maybe that assumption was wrong…I might never know. “I answered your question. Now answer mine.”
Both of his hands cupped his glass, which was half empty now. “Why do you assume letting you go was my decision?”
“I really don’t know. Am I wrong?”
He dragged his feet, holding his silence because he didn’t want to give me the answer. His eyes wandered around the room as he cradled his booze in his fingertips. When he finally made peace with his answer, he looked at me again. “No. You aren’t wrong.”
I still didn’t like him because he’d taken me in the first place, but any hesitation I felt around him was now gone. If he were truly evil, why would he change his mind? “If you hate my brother so much, why the change of heart?”
“Because you aren’t your brother.”
The waiter returned to take our order.
I was so absorbed in the conversation I hadn’t even glanced at the menu, but I was so hungry, I’d eat anything with a smile on my face. “I’ll take the ravioli, extra cheese.” I placed the menu on the edge of the table.