Page 9 of Cage of Thorns and Blood

“A waiter could have carried that for you,” he points out.

“I'm perfectly capable of carrying an ice bucket.” I take a sip of my drink and watch him over the rim of the glass.

He really is devastatingly attractive. It's unfair that in breaking his nose he somehow managed to become sexier than ever. It gives his face an irresistible, rugged edge and takes away the mathematical perfection of his youthful features. The dark growth of stubble along his jaw only serves to highlight how powerful it is, and his neck is broad and tanned. He screams masculinity, and I'm finding it hard not to respond.

Still, it doesn't matter if I find him attractive. It won't stop me from carrying out the plan I'm slowly putting into place. It just means that I'll get to enjoy it all the more. There's nothing to say that I cannot relish time between the sheets with this magnificent specimen and still ruin his life and his business before I walk away for good.

“What are you having for your main course?” I ask, dragging my mind out of thoughts of being in bed with Matteo.

“Veal,” he says. “And you?”

“I ordered the chicken in white wine and cream sauce,” I tell him. Then I raise one eyebrow and regard him. “I think that veal is cruel.”

“Why?” He takes a sip of his drink. A glass of deep red wine so dark it almost looks like thick blood in the glass. “It's no crueller than eating any other animal. That's life, Renata. Predators and prey. It’s the way of the world. It always has been, and it always will be.”

“I suppose you're always the predator,” I say with a small laugh.

“Most of the time, yes.” He drums his fingers on the tablecloth and regards me with a cool expression in his dark gaze. “You don't exactly look like prey yourself, Renata.”

I don't answer that and instead sit back in my chair as I sip at my champagne and smile at him. I can't seem to stop my gaze from roaming over the buffet of gorgeousness that is Matteo. I should try not to be so attracted in case it clouds my judgment, but that is like trying not to like chocolate, or not to crave coffee in the morning. It’s not going to happen.

The silence between us stretches and grows, and it's almost uncomfortable now, but I won't be the first to break it. He can be the one to break this time. Except, he doesn't. His phone beeps, and he picks it up and goes back to scrolling through it. I stare at him in disbelief as he rudely messes around on his phone and ignores me.

After a few moments I snap, “I'm sorry; perhaps I should go back to my table,” I say. “I thought you wanted company. Silly mistake on my part.”

He raises those thick lashes slowly, as if he can barely be bothered to look at me. “I’m sorry. It was an important message. I didn’t put you down as such an insecure woman that you’d throw a tantrum if the attention of your dining companion wasn’t on you at all times.”

Wow, he's an asshole.

“It’s rude to use your phone at the table,” I point out huffily. “I can’t abide sloppy manners.”

I push my chair back to leave, but he offers me what seems like a conciliatory smile. “Okay, I'm sorry. My bad; you’re correct. I was being rude. Let us start again. Why don't you tell me how you've been?”

I want to say to him: how do you think I've been? How do you think I've been since you tore my heart out when we were only teenagers? How do you think I've been living with that disgusting, cold family of mine that you know I've hated all these years? How do you think I've been knowing that you married a DeLuca sister and turned your back on me after we were supposed to be in love.

How. Do. You. Think. I’ve. Been!

Of course, I don't say any of those things. I simply smile at him and lie as I tell him that I've been marvellous, thank you.

“I saw you, in the papers,” he says.

That takes me by surprise.

“The papers?” What the hell. When was I in the press?

“You were in the South of France with some old socialite.”

He means Carol.

“She’s not that old,” I say.

“Maybe. I didn’t really look at her.” He shrugs as he sips at his wine.

“Oh?”

“No. I was far too busy staring at you in that bathing suit.”

His voice is husky, and his words have me flushing as I glance away, suddenly unsure of how to respond to the naked lust in his gaze.

---