Page 24 of Wishing Stone

“What are you smiling about?” Alexander asked as he took his seat across from me.

“I was thinking about how nervous I was in the hours leading up to that first date and then how it seemed to worsen in the days that followed. You were so intimidating, and it scared the hell out of me. Now that I know how everything played out, it was kind of silly for me to be so anxious. I have to wonder what would have happened if I wasn’t nervous but had given in to your temptations instead.”

A whisper of a smile played at his lips as he pulled a bottle of cabernet sauvignon from the ice bucket on the table and poured us each a glass.

“My temptations?” he questioned.

“Yeah. You were like the devil—always taunting me. What if I had gone home with you that night? Would you have pursued me as you did if we’d had sex right out of the gate?”

“First of all, I wouldn’t have brought you home that night. I certainly wanted to, but at that point, nobody came home with me until there was some level of trust built up. My lifestyle put me too much at risk, as I explained back then.” He paused and took a sip of wine. I did the same, savoring the bold flavor on my tongue as I waited for him to continue. “Secondly, I would have pursued you no matter what. You were like a drug to me. The minute I saw you, I had to have you no matter what the consequences were. And third, if I had decided I wanted to fuck you that night, I would have.”

His blunt words were as crude as they were alluring—and it was so damn hot. I loved it when he talked to me like that. The ache he’d created between my legs when we were upstairs in my closet had yet to go away, and his salacious remarks only seemed to intensify it.

Before I could respond, Vivian came into the room carrying a platter and two small plates.

“Here you go,” she announced. “Insalata caprese and antipasto italiano.”

I smiled at yet another thing that mirrored my night with Alexander four years ago.

“Thank you, Vivian,” I said. “I’m sure it will be just as good as Matteo’s.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Adding some cold cuts and cheese to a plate was the easy part. It took Alexander an hour to convince Matteo to give up his secret recipe for eggplantparmigiana.After all that trouble, I can only hope I did it justice.”

“I’m sure it will be fine, Vivian. Thank you,” Alexander told her.

After Vivian retreated to the kitchen, Alexander and I dove into the appetizers. We didn’t talk much but simply enjoyed each other’s company while eating. Occasionally, I could feel Alexander’s eyes, and I knew I was the focus of his dark, penetrating gaze without even looking. When I did look up, the flavorful mozzarella that I’d just popped into my mouth may as well have been cardboard. My breath hitched, and my heart began to race—a reaction Alexander could elicit with just one smoldering look. It was as if he were imagining himself undressing me, removing each article of clothing with careful precision. Then there were the little things—the lingering of his hand touching mine as he passed me the balsamic vinegar or the not-so-accidental brush of his foot against my leg under the table. All of it was designed to torture.

By the time the eggplant arrived, I had no interest in eating anything. All I wanted to do was lunge across the table, hike up my skirt, and ride him like there would be no tomorrow. However, the minute I speared a piece of the hot breaded vegetable and put it into my mouth, my stomach pitched. No matter how hard I tried, I could not bring myself to swallow the food. Just the mere idea of forcing it down made me want to vomit all over the table.

Shit. Add eggplant to the list of pregnancy food aversions.

Taking my napkin from my lap, I spit out the food as discreetly as I possibly could. This used to be one of my favorite dishes, and questions would surely be raised if I suddenly didn’t want to eat it.

Not for the first time this week, I contemplated telling Alexander about the baby right then and there, but thought better of it when I recalled the video conference call that I’d had with my OBGYN just the day before. She had reminded me that a healthy first trimester was crucial to development. Even though I may not be showing much on the outside, the baby’s major organs and systems were forming, and this was when the fetus was most vulnerable. At eleven weeks, I still had a week or two to go before the risks to the baby decreased significantly. Until then, it would be selfish of me to get Alexander’s hopes up. I had to protect him as much as I could.

So, instead of eating the eggplant, I focused on the penne pasta side dish. Thankfully, I could stomach that without a problem, but I knew it was only a matter of time before Alexander noticed I wasn’t eating the main dish.

I’ll need to hide the evidence.

Hide the evidence? What are you, a five-year-old?

Ugh.

Glancing at him through lowered lashes, I casually cut the eggplant into small pieces. Then, like a child who hid uneaten brussels sprouts from their mother, I tucked it between the folds of my napkin when Alexander wasn’t looking. It was ridiculous, as Vivian was sure to see it when she cleared the table. I tried to think of someplace to stash the eggplant, so she didn’t find it either, but I was coming up short of ideas. Stuffing an eggplant-filled napkin under my skirt or sweater was out of the question, as both were too fitted.

When Alexander’s fork began to scrape the bottom of the plate, I knew I was running out of time. Standing up abruptly, I began to clear our dishes, balancing my plate on top of the eggplant-filled napkin.

“I’m stuffed,” I announced, making sure to slow my words before continuing. I was a terrible liar, and one of my tells was to fidget or talk too fast. “I’m just going to bring my plate back to the kitchen. If you’re through, I can bring yours too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Vivian will clear the table,” he admonished.

“I’ve got it. I’m sure she has plenty to clean up in the kitchen.”

I took his empty plate and stacked it on mine, careful to keep the stuffed napkin under the plate stack. Then, without another word, I hurried from the table and away from Alexander’s surprised and questioning gaze.

Exiting the dining room, I hurriedly made my way down the long hallway leading to the kitchen. I was in such a rush to dispose of the uneaten food that I wasn’t paying attention. When I rounded the corner to the galley, I collided forcefully with Vivian.

“Oh!” we both said in unison.

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