Page 60 of Her Dark Salvation

“I couldn’t think of a more perfect way to celebrate.”

She ran the necklace between her fingers and looked down at her place setting, her face glowing with contentment and her shy smile. “Such flattery.” She traced the shining silver on black linen with her French-manicured fingertip, and her eyes sparkled playfully in the candlelight. “No menus tonight.”

“Chef prepares a special menu when I dine. He knows what I like.”

“And what if your date doesn’t care for the selection?” She looked up, and her lips fought a smile.

I scoffed and leaned back in my chair. “Doubtful.”

“What if I have allergies?”

“There’s an EpiPen in the first aid kit behind the front desk.”

She laughed, a throaty sound that went straight to my heart and made me smile in spite of myself. This woman.

“Your 2012 Brunello di Montalcino Riserva, Mr. DeVita.” The waiter appeared, holding the bottle by its neck, and gently rested it against his forearm so I could inspect the label. A bus boy stood behind him with a crystal decanter and two red wine glasses.

I nodded, and with swift efficiency, he uncorked and decanted the wine, setting it on the table before pouring a small amount for me to taste. Perfection. I nodded again, and he poured both glasses.

He leveled Anna with a serious look. “You’re in for a treat. Enjoy. I’ll return with the first course shortly.”

“No rush,” I told him.

The waiter nodded and left.

“Perfect timing.” I picked up my glass. “Alla salute.”

“Alla salute.”

She took a small sip, and her eyes widened into saucers. She gaped at the contents of her glass as if she might find an explanation for what she’d just tasted inside and took another sip.

“I think—I think that’s the best wine I’ve had in my entire life.” She reverently placed the glass on the table, laying her fingers across its crystal base.

I chuckled. Good taste, too. Could this woman be any more perfect? “Does this mean you’ll trust me to order for you in the future?”

She laughed and shook her head. “No shame.”

“Never.”

She dropped her necklace, and her shoulders relaxed. “Is it expensive? The waiter looked like he was carrying a priceless artifact. I’m surprised he wasn’t wearing white gloves.”

“It’s relative,” I said with a shrug and swirled the glass under my nose. “2012 and 2013 were excellent vintages in the Montalcino region of Tuscany. 2012 is considered outstanding, hence the Riserva label. People buy them up, age them properly, and sell them for ridiculous amounts of money. But I like to drink the wine I buy. I purchased this case directly from the vineyard. They age best at twenty to twenty-five years, but you can drink them as early as ten.”

“So, yes?” She brought the glass to her lips, and I became irrationally jealous of the glass.

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Well, thank you for sharing it with me. It’s divine.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

The waiter returned and placed two plates of antipasto on the table. Burrata and basil stuffed tomatoes drizzled in a balsamic reduction. One of my favorites. I took up my knife and fork.

“So, how’s the grand experiment?” I asked.

She blinked. “The what?”

“The grand experiment.” I circled my knife in the air. “Trying out the real world.”

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