Page 69 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

That’s odd. I’ve drank almost every day since Marisha died.

But just like that, something in me has shifted.

“None for me,” I tell the waiter. “Esme?”

She flinches when I say her name. But then she glances at the waiter and shakes her head. “None for me, either.”

The waiter dips his head toward her and backs away, leaving us to the fragrant soup.

“Afraid it will loosen your tongue?” I ask.

She eyes me. “I don’t know what drug you stuck in my neck earlier,” she says. “I don’t want to mix it with anything.”

“Just a mild sedative. You can drink if you want to.”

“Your ‘mild sedative’ messed me up bad. I’m gonna pass on the bubbly, thanks very much.”

I shrug. If she doesn’t want to drink, I’m not going to push her.

I watch as Esme dips forward and breathes in the bisque as though she can’t stop herself any longer.

It’s probably been a while since she’s eaten. She must be starving.

Without waiting for permission, she plucks a spoon from the table and takes a sip of the soup.

I suppress a smile. Her tongue runs across her bottom lip and then her eyes rise to mine.

“Are you going to stare at me all night?” she asks. More like demands, really.

“Maybe.”

She rolls her eyes again and returns to the soup, pointedly ignoring me.

A few minutes later and her bowl is dry.

She reaches for a piece of the bread and sits back in her chair, gazing out at the open sky, still avoiding my eyes.

“Do you really live here?” she asks after a moment.

“As opposed to…?”

“You stole me from my house. Maybe you stole this house from someone else.”

I chuckle. “Yes, I really live here.”

“Hmph.” She looks around, chewing sloppily on her bread as if she knows that the rude table manners will piss me off. She’s right about that, but I let it pass.

I know she knows better. She’s just trying my patience.

I won’t let her get to me that easily.

“If I ask you a question, do you promise to be honest with me?” she asks suddenly.

“I suppose I can agree to that,” I say. “On one condition. One rule: no talking about the past.”

She frowns. “The past is kind of relevant.”

“Usually, when people say they have one condition, it’s not up for negotiation.”

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