Page 27 of The Cask

“I’m not laughing at you,” I assured him. “I’m laughing at the notes you’re hitting.”

“Wowwwwwww!” He dragged the word out before he burst out laughing. “That’s it. Now you have to sing.”

“I refuse!”

We laughed and joked our way to the best Italian restaurant in the city of Richmond.

“Alessandro’s!” I exclaimed.

“Does that mean you approve?”

I nodded. “I do. It’s a very nice choice.”

After getting the ticket from the valet, Omari met me on the passenger side.

“Ms. Montresor,” he whispered, offering his arm.

I slipped my arm into his. “Mr. Fortune.”

We headed inside and were immediately taken to the patio. The table closest to the fireplace had a reserved sign on it.

“This is your table,” the hostess informed us, picking up the sign and replacing it with menus. “Your waiter will be with you momentarily.”

Omari pulled out my chair before answering. “Thank you.” He refocused his attention on me. “Let me take your jacket.”

I smiled as he helped me out of it. I imagined how his face looked as he saw the full sheerness of the back and how it emphasized my ass. It was made to draw attention to it. I wanted to drawhisattention to it.

He made an appreciative noise. “This dress just keeps getting better and better, I see.”

“This old thing,” I replied coyly as he scooted my chair in.

He hung my jacket on the back of his chair and then he took his seat across from me. “Have you ever been here before?”

“I have,” I told him, picking up the menu. “And I already know what I want.”

“What do you want?”

“Spaghetti carbonara. Unless you’ve had it in Italy, you won’t find a better spaghetti carbonara anywhere.” I placed the menu to the side. “It’s the best,” I gushed.

He smiled, putting his menu to the side. “You sold me.”

“You seem more relaxed than when I saw you earlier. Did everything work out with your meeting?”

It wasn’t the smoothest way to work the question in, but I’d been excitedly waiting for the answer to that question for hours.

Omari’s expression remained the same, but the light in his eyes dimmed a bit. “It didn’t work out. I won’t have the cigars I want for the opening.”

Phase two, success!

I frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I sighed.

“Thanks, but you have nothing to be sorry for. I have enough. I just don’t have exactly what I want. But it’ll all work out.”

Nodding supportively, I kept a straight face. “It’ll all work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.”

Exactly the way it’s supposed to.

A waiter approached us. “Ciao!”

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