Page 28 of Forcibly Sold to the Bratva
“For you too?” I ask, my brows hitting my hairline. I’ve been on dates before, but the men I’ve been with hardly allowed me to order for myself, let alone them.
“Yes,” he says in earnest. “You’ve got good taste. We can share.”
I find my neck heat at the simmering look he’s giving me, at what he implies, at how easily I compare this night to previous nights. There’s something intimate about this gesture, ordering for him, agreeing to share… but for some reason, it feels comfortable and natural.
“How about…” I suggest, a little afraid of being shot down. “We order some sushi, guacamole, and chips to start with, and for mains, we can do the fish tacos?”
I watch for a hint of disapproval, but he smiles and motions at someone behind me. I hadn’t even realized that there was staff in the distance. This place feels so very private. The waiter takes a minute to reach us, coming over from a distance where he stands at attention, and Ilariy places the order without even questioning it.
When the waiter leaves with our order, Ilariy leans forward and pours some more wine.
“Did you enjoy the hotel today?” he asks with keen interest. “I know it wasn’t as good as the last one.” He frowns like he’s willing to burn this place down if I say I didn’t have fun.
“It was wonderful,” I speak honestly and begin to tell him about the three different pools I went to, the massage I got, and everything in between.
He listens attentively, his eyes unwavering, and I find it easy to speak without stopping, not once doubting if he’s truly keen.
He hands on to every word. The food soon comes, and we dig in.
“Mm,” I say, closing my eyes as I bite into the guacamole. “I swear they use magic avocados here.”
When I open my eyes, I find Ilariy staring at my mouth. Quickly, I swallow and reach for my champagne. I’m already feeling a little drunk, but it’s so very bubbly and fresh and delicious.
“How was your day, by the way?” I ask, passing him the sushi. “How was your…meeting?”
A flash of nervousness crosses his face, and I realize we can’t avoid the conversation forever. But for some reason, he isn’t as keen on talking as he is on listening.
“Ilariy…” I sigh. “You promised you’d give me answers.”
“I promised we’d talk,” he says.
“Don’t be like that,” I say, feeling annoyed. “How was the meeting?”
“It went fine. We had to broker a deal. We did that.”
“What…deal?”
“We exchange some of our resources,” he offers.
“What resources? Like nuclear weapons?” I joke and he laughs.
“What’s it to you? Can’t you just enjoy the evening?”
“You don’t want to answer questions about your business,” I ask, sitting up straighter now. “That’s fine. But tell me why we had to leave the hotel last night.”
“Oh look,” Ilariy’s eyes suddenly blast open, and I hear movement behind me. “The tacos are here!”
The minute the plates are set down, he reaches over and puts one on mine.
“Eat, eat,” he says like an order, already digging in. “Before they get cold.”
I can’t argue with that, and the first bite in itself is an explosion of flavors, textures.
“Oh my god,” I moan, biting into the crispy tacos, the cold salsa, the warm fish.
“Good?” Ilariy watches my reaction with those gorgeous, simmering eyes, looking pleased with how happy I am.
“The best,” I admit, then quickly add, “But food won’t distract me forever. Who were those men yesterday? And what did you mean when you said the hotel was compromised?”
