Page 127 of Arianna

I know I look older than my age today. Completely different from my usual look. I’m dressed in an elegant black Versace midi dress with lightweight material. It hugs my figure. The bust is gathered and collected at the center of my chest by a silver ring. It comes just below my knees, and I paired it with black leather high heels. My hair is bound in a sleek, high ponytail, with my bangs parted in the middle. On my ears are the diamond snowflakes earrings Sebastian gifted me and, on my finger, the matching ring. I am wearing light pink lipgloss along with eyeliner and mascara.

When I asked how I should dress, Sebastian said to go all out, and that is precisely what I did.

Chef Pietro notices my discomfort, yet he doesn’t release my hand, and before I can voice how he is making me feel, Sebastian steps in. “If you don’t remove your hands from my girl, tomorrow, you no longer exist, and neither will your restaurant, Pietro.” The ice, in Sebastian’s words, freezes the air. No one has ever stuck up for me like Sebastian.

No one has ever done what he has.

No one.

I lick my lips, not concerned at all by Sebastian’s threat. I try to wipe the smile off my face and can’t.

Chief Pietro raises his hands as if he meant no harm and looks sheepishly back at me before releasing my hand and turning back to guide us to our table.

Once inside the restaurant, I notice it is surrounded by clear glass, which allows us not only to see outside the restaurant, but civilians on the streets can see inside while people dine.

Besides the oddness of that, the restaurant is beautifully and lavishly decorated. The low lighting gives off a romantic and cozy vibe.

There are also fresh flowers and candlelight on every table, tasteful artwork on the walls, and linen tablecloths and napkins.

On the farthest corner, a young girl sits on a piano playing classical music to set the mood.

Magnifique offers a sophisticated, unique, and expensive experience paired with fine dining.

“Mr. Kenton, I meant no harm, and I hope my poor judgment does not affect our business relationship.” Chef Pietro says to Sebastian. I believe the man meant no harm. He just acted unprofessional, tacky, and sleazy.

“Send the waiter our way.” That is all Sebastian says before pushing my chair back and helping me to my seat. Chef Pietro mutters that someone will be with us shortly before disappearing back into the kitchen.

“I think we overreacted,” I tell him as I watch him pull a seat over instead of sitting in front of me, as most people are.

“He was being rude.”

“He was staring at my tits. Rude? Yes. However, is it causing him to lose his restaurant? No.” I blush when Sebastian’s eyes drop to my cleavage before slowly rising and meeting my gaze. His gaze doesn’t make me want to scrub my skin off. It makes me feel as if I am on fire. A fire that never hurts.

A serious look takes over his face. “I don’t like it.”

Lost in his stare, I ask. “You don’t like what?”

“Men looking at you as if they have a right. They don’t get to look at you.” He says, almost sounding like a brat. Something he is not. He is all man. “It makes me feel twitchy.”

“Twitchy?”

A vicious smile takes over. “Yes, twitchy. Murderous. It makes me want to rip their eyes out of their sockets with my bare hands.” He chuckles darkly. “Fuck, baby, and I hate messes.” His eyes, so blue at that moment they take my breath away, feel like they bore their way into my soul.

Baby.

The word coming from him makes lust spread through me and happiness blooms in my heart.

I don’t mind Sebastian’s possessive side because I, too, feel possessive of him.

I, too, feel twitchy when women stare at him for a little too long, like in this instant when a woman about Sebastian’s age approaches our table with a huge smile on her face. For him, of course. She has barely acknowledged me.

The woman keeps flirting with him despite my presence, annoying the hell out of me and feeding the green monster that lives inside of me.

The jealousy.

The only reason I am not sticking the knife in Sebastian’s hand right now is that he seems uninterested and unaffected by the woman’s advances. He orders, in perfect French, a bottle of their most expensive wine, the spiced duck for him and macaroni stuffed with black truffle for me.

Handing her back the menu, he dismisses her.

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