Page 49 of Take Me Under

He studied me for a moment, his gaze intense and probing. “Yes, they can.”

The air between us was heavy, charged with words left unspoken. He was a puzzle, each piece more abstract than thelast, and I couldn’t tell if I was any closer to solving him or just getting more confused by the strategy.

“You intrigue me, Serena. You have this aura about you that I can’t explain. It makes me want to know more about you. Tell me about your upbringing. Your family, your childhood.”

The request caught me off guard. But something in the way he asked made me want to share.

“I can’t say my life was very interesting, but it wasn’t boring. My family moved around quite a bit when I was young,” I told him, tracing the rim of my water glass with my fingertip. “My father’s work took us to different countries. I don’t think we ever stayed anywhere for more than a couple of years.”

Before I could delve deeper into my childhood tales, Matteo returned with a bottle of the wine. His timing felt both fortuitous and frustrating.

“Here we are. TheOrnellaiaCabernet Sauvignon,” he announced with a theatrical flourish, showcasing the bottle like a prized possession. He proceeded to expertly uncork the wine, filling our glasses with a practiced hand. The rich aroma of blackberries and oak hit my senses.

“Thank you,” I said after he placed a glass in front of me.

“Prego.” Setting the bottle down, he began to describe the evening's specials. “We have a delightful risottoai funghithat's been prepared with freshly foraged porcini mushrooms.”

Anton leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips as he listened to Matteo’s description of the specials. Occasionally his gaze would shift to me, a silent question dancing in the depths of his dark eyes.

“Why don't you surprise us, Matteo?” Anton said finally, his voice smooth and confident. “I’ve never gone wrong with your recommendations. What do you say, Serena? Do you trust Matteo to choose for us?”

Trust.

I seemed to be doing a lot of that when it came to Anton.

I smiled and shrugged before I could overthink it. It was only food, after all.

“Sure.”

Matteo’s eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and pride at being entrusted with our meal selection. He gave us a quick nod before leaving us alone once more.

I glanced at Anton. He’d said he wanted to know more about me, but I wondered how much he already knew. He was a man who thrived on control, on knowing more than anyone else in the room. And yet, as he raised his glass to mine, there was something in his eyes that told me he was just as curious about me as I was about him. I could see it in the way he watched me, his gaze holding steady as if he were trying to read every thought in my mind.

The air between us crackled with inexplicable anticipation as he studied me with an intensity that made my heart flutter. Light from the flickering fire painted his features with sort of a mesmerizing allure, accentuating the depth of his onyx eyes and the sharp angles of his jawline. The silence between us was pregnant with silent words, each moment stretching taut like a finely tuned string.

“You were telling me about your upbringing. You’d said that you moved around a lot,” Anton finally said, settling back in his chair as he returned to our previous conversation.

A small sigh escaped me as I thought back to my childhood of constant change and disruption.

“Oh, yes. There was always a dig or another great discovery to make,” I replied, my tone both weary and derisive. I didn’t want to talk about the frustration and loneliness that came with always having to start over.

“You didn’t enjoy it?” Anton asked, his dark eyes probing.

I shrugged, trying to brush off the topic.

“Not many kids like being uprooted from their friends time and time again,” I said dryly. I took a sip of the red wine,savoring the velvety richness. “But it was a long time ago. When I look back, I had a good life—even if it wasn’t ideal. What about you? Where did you grow up?”

“Now that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

A guarded look crossed his features.

“My childhood is not something I choose to discuss,” he said firmly.

“But mine is?” I couldn't help feeling a twinge of annoyance at the double standard.

“I’m just trying to get to know you better, princess. I think it’s only fair to want to know who I’ll be giving money to.”

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