Page 29 of The Actor and His Secret

‘As I said, that depends on if you forget your keys again.’

Honey pulls a contemplative face. ‘I really don’t forget things though. I’m sure I had them in my bag pocket. I’m usually fastidious about putting things into the same places every time. I’ve never done this before. It’s all the excitement of the…situation, I think.’ He bites his lip.

I lay a hand on his knee because he’s clearly distressed, and I hate to see him like that. ‘No worries. That’s an issue for tomorrow. Tonight, we have fun.’

‘If what you have planned is anything like what I’ve just been through, I think I won’t make it through the night.’

I squeeze his knee, wanting to do more than that but hyper-aware of the driver waiting for my signal to drive to the next stop. Luckily, the car is soundproof. All my driver knows is I’m taking out a long-distance friend out for dinner. Unless I fuck Honey in the back of the car - which is certainly something I want to do, but won’t - the driver won’t know any different.

‘Do you trust me, Honey?’ I ask.

‘Do I have a choice, Adonis?’

I shake my head, eyeing the bags of clothing he’d just brought. ‘Traffic depending, we have twenty minutes until we reach the next stop. I’d start getting changed if I was you.’

‘Here?’ he squeaks.

I gesture to the door. ‘If you’d like, you can step outside and strip off. Although, I’d prefer if you do it for me and me alone to see.’

Honey narrows his eyes on me as his lips quirk into a smirk. ‘Are you going to be a respectful man and turn away?’

‘Sure,’ I say, turning my back on him, but catching the near perfect reflection in the blacked-out window. I catch eyes with Oli, whose smirk is so delicious I want to clean it off with my tongue. ‘Better?’

‘You’re a fucking nightmare, Adonis.’

‘You have no idea.’

The waitress guides us through the kitchens to a small room at the back of one of London’s most prestigious restaurants. Under the guise of a ‘meeting with my publicist’, she doesn’t question why Nikos Ridge is out having a meal with another man. Nor do I sense any second thoughts in her eyes. Clearly, she’s far too enamoured with me to even contemplate the possibility that I would fancy a man.

Plus, the light dose of flirting certainly throws her off the scent. Flirting that doesn’t go unnoticed by my date.

‘She was so red I thought she was going to explode,’ Honey says as I pull back his chair and beckon for him to sit.

‘What can I say? I have that effect on people.’

Honey scoffs to himself, making the chair creak against the floor as he tucks himself in. ‘I hate to pop that arrogant bubble of yours, Adonis, but you don’t have that effect on me.’

‘Are you jealous?’

‘No,’ he says too quickly.

‘Then you’re a liar,’ I reply, taking me seat opposite him. ‘Because your cheeks are practically on fire right now.’

Honey lifts a hand to his cheeks, fumbling for an excuse as to why he’s now the red-faced one. ‘I’m warm, that’s all.’

He isn’t wrong. The small room we’re sitting in only has enough room for the both of us. The round table is set in the heart, surrounded by walls covered in Italian memorabilia. I imagine this is some museum showcasing the owner’s love for their Nona. Portraits of a stout looking woman with white hair and a toothless smile are waiting beside fake lemon trees in pots and bags of pasta.

Selina is the one who spoke favourably about this restaurant, saying the food was as authentic as you’d get if you ate in Sicily itself. With two Michelin stars, the family who runs the restaurant has kept the love and pride in what they do for over twenty years. It only took five minutes to call in a favour and get a private table for the night.

‘I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve pre-ordered the food.’

Honey’s brows raise into his hairline. ‘Arrogant, and a control freak, that’s what that says about you.’

‘Careful,’ I say, leaning over the table as if I could make it vanish and kiss him. ‘If you continue stroking my ego, I might be forced to stroke something of yours.’

‘Are you trying to make me forget about your comments earlier?’ Honey asks. ‘Because it’s going to take more than meatballs, limoncello, and tiramisu to make it up to me.’

‘We have all night,’ I reply. ‘I think I’ll be successful come morning.’

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