Page 43 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
My hairs bristle when he runs his index finger down my arm.
“Umm… a side salad is fine.” My voice trembles from his close proximity.
“She will have the 16-ounce steak with a baked potato and a side salad.” Isaac hands her back my menu. “I’ll have the same.”
“I’m still full from lunch. That’s why I ordered a salad.”
He arches his perfect brow. “The half a club sandwich and few slices of pear you ate at lunch weren’t adequate enough to skip dinner.”
My heart rate doubles.I may not have seen him all day, but he’s clearly been watching me.
“I can’t afford two hundred dollars for a piece of steak.” My cheeks heat in embarrassment.
His lips form into his panty-clenching smirk before he leans in intimately close to my neck. My thighs shake when his breath flutters along my neckline.
“How fast can you run in those heels?”
When my confused eyes dart to his, he winks before continuing, “We either run before the bill arrives or wash dishes with Roberto for the next week.”
He gestures his head to a gentleman sauntering his way back into the restaurant from a side alley. Roberto’s white waiter’s apron barely covers his vast waistline and is covered with food and red wine stains.
“I’ll be sure to kick off these bad boys before our dessert arrives.” I click my black pump heels together. “Hold on, how do you know his name is Roberto?”
He drapes his arm behind the back of my chair. “This is pretty. Did you do something different?” He tugs on the strands of hair cascading down my back, completely ignoring my question.
I smile while nodding. “Harlow curled the ends.”
My grin enlarges over the fact he noticed the humblest change in my hairstyle. Isaac’s eyes rake over my fitted, white wrap dress before lifting to my face. His gaze is hungry. It isn’t a hunger for food.
“You look beautiful.”
His voice causes a shiver to run through my body.
“Thank you,” I reply breathlessly.
For the next two hours, I enjoy splendid food, wine, and even better company. Isaac has been the frankest I’ve ever seen him. From the stories he shared, I can easily perceive his fondness for his younger brother, Nick, and his excitement about becoming an uncle for the first time is also paramount. I feel privileged I’ve experienced a side of him not many people witness, and I’ve quickly become trapped in his incredible allure.
Isaac chuckles when I lean down and unbuckle the latch on my shoes when the waiter hands us the dessert menu. My heart leaps when he orders both of our dessert selections in fluent Italian. I’m impressed with his impeccable pronunciation and how effortlessly the words roll off his tongue.
“My nonna was Italian. She taught me to speak Italian fluently by the time I was eight,” he responds to my curious glance.
“Are you close to your nonna?” I reach for my freshly filled wine glass.
“No, she passed away five years ago.” He removes the wine glass from my hand and places it back on the table.
“I’m sorry,” I sympathize as my gaze darts back to my full glass of red wine.
“You’ve already had three glasses.”
“Yes, and I told you I don’t have a problem with my drinking.”
“You don’t have a problem, but I do.”
I cock my brow, requesting further information.
“I don’t converse with drunk women.”
He swivels his body, leaning in more intimately. I remain quiet, baffled by his statement.
