Page 35 of Siren's Game

"You're shrugging me on like a backpack," I chuckle and shift my arm, feeling her tense under it as it tugs her closer against me. "Relax."

"I'll relax after I've had those noisy people take my picture," she grits out and snakes her arm around my waist. "Now, where is that security team of yours?"

I nod towards the black car that has parked two spots behind mine. Immediately, the doors open and four huge and buff guys in suits jump out, all of them wearing sunglasses and earpieces to communicate.

Slowly, I feel her starting to relax under my touch, and from the corner of my eyes, I see her plastering a smile onto her lips.

If you didn't know, you'd have no idea how bad her mood was until just now. Admittedly, her ability to conceal her emotions probably would have made her a wonderful actress.

I nod at Sven, the tallest of the security guys and head of our little security team, and off we go.

Just as I thought, as soon as we round the corner to the restaurant, someone immediately shouts our names and a horde of paparazzi storms our way.

Undeterred by security, they try to reach us and push microphones or cameras into our faces while screaming into our ears and blinding us with the lights of their camera flashes.

Instinctively, I pull Kayla a bit closer to me as we walk, both of us directing our eyes to the ground.

It's really nice to walk with her. I can’t help but notice again that she keeps up with me easily.

My exes were way smaller. Apart from the awkward arm angle, I would have never been able to walk this quickly with them, but walking with Kayla is easy, as natural as breathing.

Loud voices mix until I can't make out any distinct voice anymore. All I hear is shouting and our names.

Our security team members are champions, pushing them out of our way. We don’t have to slow down one bit until we finally reach the restaurant.

"Japanese?" Kayla asks and tilts her head, looking up at the façade.

"Yes. The best one around," I tell her and hold the door open so she can walk in ahead of me. The screaming seems to subside as soon as the door falls closed behind us. Or this building has amazing soundproofing.

I help Kayla shrug off her jacket, and then carry it along with mine to the table that the host leads us to. Once there, I drape them over the free chair right next to me.

"I hope you like ramen?" I ask as I sit down, placing my phone on the table with the screen facing down, because it feels weird in the pocket of these particular jeans when I sit down. I noticed in the car, and I’d rather have it on the table.

"I do," she answers and nods, an approving hum coming from her throat. "It's been forever since I last had some."

"Same. The last time must have been on a press tour in Tokyo." I accept the menu our waiter hands us and order myself a lemonade. I wish I could have a beer or some sake, but since I'll be driving her home after our dinner, that's absolutely not happening.

She, however, orders herself an alcoholic drink, her eyes lighting up as they dart over the card until she finally chooses a whiskey highball. Interesting.

Once the waiter is gone, my phone starts buzzing and blinking. I turn it quickly to glance at the display, then roll my eyes and unlock it, only to put it on do not disturb.

"Sorry, that was my mom." I push it to the far side of the table before I change my mind and just put it down on the empty chair after all. "She's asking how the flowers are doing. A sneaky strategy to spy on our date, I assume." It’s one of her tactics. She’d ask an innocent enough question like this and then dive right into the uncomfortable questions once it’s answered. I’m not falling for that this time.

"They’re still alright," Kayla assures me quickly, shooting the waiter a grateful smile when he returns with our drinks. "They're so pretty. And at least they give my apartment some color and make it look a little less boring. So, your mother has a flower shop?"

The question could be interpreted condescendingly, but her voice signals that she's genuinely interested.

"Yes. She opened it when I was five and started going to school so she wouldn’t worry about me whenever I was out of her sight."

"That's so sweet! And you mentioned your dad is a CEO?" I nod. "How did the two of them meet?"

"A nightclub," I tell her, chuckling when her eyes grow wide. "Trust me, that's all I ever wanted to know."

"Yeah, that’s understandable," she says and takes a sip of her drink, her face contorting into a grimace. “Oof. Yep, there’s definitely whiskey.”

I grin and reach for my own drink. "How about your parents?" I ask her before I take a sip and her face strains, for just the barest of seconds, before she regains control over her expression. "Are you close to them?"

"Not really," she says without elaborating and clears her throat. A wiser man would take the hint, but that’s not an adjective I’d describe myself with.

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