Page 10 of Queen of Vice

The route we were taking offered little scenery after leaving our neighborhood, and silence had settled between us. Elena remained alert, fearful but not close to terror. That was good. It would’ve been a problem were she to be lax around me. Eventually, I turned and coasted into a parking lot. Elena leaned forward and peered through the windshield, causing her long hair to curtain the side of her face.

“You were serious about breakfast?”

“If you’d rather I took you to one of my rooms with four stone walls and a concrete floor, I’d be happy to oblige. I wouldn’t mind seeing you bound and gagged.”

She looked over at me, diverting her gaze the second we made eye contact. “I’ll take a raincheck on that.”

I grinned and cut the ignition. “In that case, it’s time you and I had a talk.” Exiting the car, I caught a glimpse of her wary expression as I slammed my door.

She got out and followed me into the diner, sliding into a cherry red booth of my choosing so that we were facing one another. There was only one other person inside, an older man who looked half asleep in a back corner.

“Get whatever you want.” I slid her a menu without needing one for myself.

Paula, the wife of the man I had purchased the place from years ago, shuffled over ready to take our orders. “Hey Hun, didn’t expect to see you today.”

She never expected to see me. She was also the only woman I’d allow to address me like that. Paula had worked for my family for well over a decade, cleaning money and making sure the basement of the diner was always ready for whenever it was needed. She had skin in this game and bigger balls than some of the men I knew. Gerald, her late husband, had gone above and beyond for me and the men I kept close without complaint. It was a selfless act we’d never forgotten.

I bought the diner and made sure they could live comfortably long before an aggressive form of lung cancer took the cutthroat bastard out. Paula still got up every day and came in to run it alongside his brother Franco, who doubled as a chef.

“I want my usual, and she wants…”

“The poached egg.”

“Got it. How do you like your toast? Wheat or white?”

“Wheat is fine.”

“And to drink?” Paula inquired with a gentle smile.

“Orange juice, please.”

“I’ll have that right out.” She collected the menus and shuffled off towards the kitchen.

Elena looked around the diner, taking it all in before she focused her beautiful eyes on me. “You eat here often?”

I’d wondered how long it would take her to pick up on that.

“Often enough. It’s one of the rare establishments I place true value on.”

She appeared pensive for a moment, thanking Paula when she brought our drinks over—Elena’s orange juice and my coffee, black with no sugar. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

“We can get to that after you’ve eaten.”

She opened her mouth but then decided against whatever she was going to say. We fell into a semi-companionable silence after that, which continued until the food came, up until I had to exercise patience as she stared at her plate but made no effort to eat.

“If you don’t start eating, I’ll have no choice but to feed you myself. You don’t want to offend the cook.”

"I'm actually not very hungry."

“Did I ask if you were?”

Reaching across the table, I picked up her fork and added a piece of her poached egg before bringing it to her mouth.

“Eat,” I directed, gesturing toward the plate in front of her.

She looked at me with a mixture of shock and resignation, but she didn't put up a fight. She took the bite I offered without any further arguments. Whether or not she was actually hungry was irrelevant to me. It was obvious that she had not been taking care of herself. As much as I hated to admit it, she would be no use to me if she was sickly. Besides the noticeable weight loss, it was clear that she had been crying. Her face was swollen and puffy, but still undeniably beautiful.

It killed me to know that I wasn't the reason for her tears, that I hadn't been there to taste them as they fell from her eyes. After feeding her another bite, she took the fork from me and started eating on her own. I watched her, noting her every move and facial expression. Elena was alluring in a way I found more desirable than anyone I’d ever encountered.

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