Page 125 of Masked Hearts

I force my mood to shift to a more joyful one as we arrive at the restaurant. It really is as fancy as my sister made it out to seem, and I’m glad that Kaia’s idea of allowing her to pick our activities has helped lift the mood lately. “Oh shit, I forgot my bag in the car,” Noelle says.

“Okay, let’s go get it.” I stop just before the door.

“No, we’ll miss the reservation. You head in, I can go back and get it.”

I hesitate, worrying about security, but she grabs the one guard’s arm and pulls him with her. “Okay.” I smile, but as soon as they turn and leave, my mood sours. “We have a reservation under Kaia Abrahams.”

“Of course, right this way.” The host smiles politely and starts leading me through the restaurant. It has a moody atmosphere, the darkness almost matching just how I feel.

As we reach the back of the restaurant, my heart starts pounding as the waiter points to the table that’s supposedly ours in a secluded section, except someone is sitting at the table already.

Someone who definitely shouldn’t be here right now.

He’s staring at the menu, brows furrowed with an annoyed look running across his face. His curls are short and even completely shaven in some areas. He lost weight, and his entire frame seems smaller. He’s dressed in the world’s sleekest black suit, and I’m convinced there’s no way that it’s him. Every fibre in me is telling me I’m hallucinating, that there’s no way the man in front of me is Antonio.

Then my eyes catch the glint of silver on his left hand, and as it all starts to register. His piercing green eyes finally meet mine, and there’s no longer any doubt.

It is Antonio.

He’s on his feet not even a second later, and his eyes widen to the size of saucers as he seems to piece it together, as well.

“Theá?” His voice is rough and deep, and my God, have I missed it.

I open my mouth, but no words come out, so all I can do is nod.

With two long strides, he’s in front of me, grabbing onto my shoulders. It’s so firm yet gentle, as if he’s worried he’ll break me, but at the same time, like if he doesn’t hold tight enough, I’ll disappear.

“Is it really you?” he whispers, eyes searching mine.

“Is it really you?” I return the question.

A laugh slips past his lips, and he pulls me into his chest, no longer concerned about breaking me. Instead, it switches to borderline suffocating as if he’s trying to mould my body to his in an attempt to make me a part of him forever. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much.”

“Sorry, here are your menus.” The server’s voice cuts the moment, and I jump back. I thank them, but watch as Antonio glares at them.

“We should probably have a seat,” I say.

I don’t know why, but I feel so awkward in his presence all of a sudden. He must sense it, too, because he just nods and takes a seat opposite of me at the table. My stomach flips as I look at him. He’s really here. Joy floods through me, but anger simmers deep down, thinking about why he left in the first place.

Silence settles around us as I pick up the menu and scan it. I’m merely staring absent-mindedly, because all my brain can focus on is the way I can see Antonio staring at me from my peripheral vision. “Are you going to look at the menu or just keep staring at me all night?”

“I already know what I want. It’s not on the menu,” he says plainly. I stare up at him flabbergasted while he sits there, completely unfazed.

“So, what can I get you two?” the serve returns, completely oblivious to everything going on right now.

I freeze, not having looked at anything on the menu yet.

“She’ll have an Aperol Spritz, and I’ll take a double whiskey, single block of ice,” Antonio orders without missing a beat, and the server leaves again.

“How is this possible?” I finally ask when they’re gone.

“I should be asking you that,” he fires back, and I can’t tell if he’s upset with me or not. Guilt leeches into me and briefly covers the anger I’m feeling, and I want the floor to open up and swallow me.

“Pierre came to get me in Paris, and then brought Noelle and I here to stay with his friend.”

“Which friend?” Antonio asks, his brows furrowed.

“Her name’s Kaia.”

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