Page 83 of Brutal Prince

I knew nothing about wine, so he could’ve said anything and I’d believe him. “Is your favorite color red?”

He hummed over the sound of clinkering plates. “Let’s just say red is my favorite flavor.”

I laughed nervously as my hand unconsciously goes to my hair. Red wine. Raspberry licorice logs. Me.

“Come,” he beckoned me to the dining table, dragging out a chair for me to sit at the head of the table.

“What’s on the menu today?”

“Pasta with pesto sauce and grated parmesan cheese. Green is the color of this meal.”

He placed the meal in front of me and I could feel him press his lips into the top of my head. “Favorite vacation spot?”

He paused to think about it. “Venice.”

“No?”

“Yes. And yours?” taking the seat to the side of me.

“I don’t…go anywhere.”

“We should plan a trip together,” he said, placing his hand over mine.

My heart sank and I dropped my head down, knowing all too well that an overseas trip with Dom was never going to happen.

“Why so sad?” he asked, gently raising chin up with his finger.

“Just…nothing. What’s your favorite song?”

He grinned. “Do you remember that song we used to sing? What was the name of it? You’d do cartwheels along the grass as I rode my bike alongside you and we’d sing…” his eyes glazed over, trying to remember.

“Yellow Submarine?”

He snorted. “Not that one. The Bruno Mars track.”

“Uptown Funk.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How did it go?”

I did my best to sing the chorus and it was enough for him to know it was the right song. “Is that your favorite song?”

“One of them.”

I felt weird about that since we were friends but also he crossed a line that in his mind didn’t exist. I twirled pasta around my fork and shoved it into my gob in a completely unladylike fashion.

“Sexy,” he grunted, wiping pesto off my chin with his thumb.

“Quick fire questions,” I said.

“Huh?”

“They’re gonna come at you fast.”

“Alright, can I pass on any?”

“Maybe, but passing still tells me more about you than answering.”

“Okay. Go.”

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