Page 40 of Wounded Angel

“What do you think I should get?” Xava asks while her eyes roam the menu.

“Mmm, that’s a bad question to ask me. Everything here is amazing. If you want, we can get a few dishes and split them all?”

“I think that would be a great idea.” Xava smiles and takes a sip of her water.

A couple of minutes later, our waitress comes back with a bottle of chilled wine, opens it, and pours our drinks. “Do the two of you know what you’d like?” our waitress asks us.

“Yes, we’re going to get an order of thetzatziki, eggplant salad,saganakifried cheese, steamed mussels with garlic and wine,choritikipizza, stuffed tomatoes with pepper rice, and sea bream.”

“Okay, a small feast. Is it your first time here?” The waitress looks over to Xava.

She nods. “Yes.”

“That’s what I thought. You’re going to love everything he ordered for you, I promise. They’re all so good. It’s almost a shame I work here. I go home and never want to eat anything my husband fixes. I guess I’m spoiled. Anyway, I’ll put this order in for you and will be back shortly. Until then, is there anything else I can get for you?”

I look at Xava briefly, and she doesn’t give me any indication she needs anything else. “No, I think we’re good. Thank you,” I tell the waitress. She walks off, and I take my first sip of the chilled white wine. It will go perfectly with the food we’ve ordered.

“I do want to apologize for taking you to the charity event. If I ever thought my father was going to act that way, I never would have taken you.”

Xava arches a brow and laughs. “You have nothing to apologize for. You weren’t the one acting out of line. Your father and that woman take the cake for that.”

Still, I feel foolish for not thinking he’d try to pull something off like that. “I appreciate it, but I know my father. I should have known. He’s been pressuring me to choose a Greek woman lately.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” Xava’s sarcasm is adorable.

“My father is old school. He believes things should be done as they were done to him many years ago, taking away mine and my brother’s freedom in the process.”

“Do you want to be married to a Greek woman, or that one specifically?” It’s a little hard for me to read Xava right now. I’m not sure if she’s upset or if she’s only curious.

“No. The person I want to be with is you. There’s no other woman who calls my attention like you do. I know we’ve only seen each other a few times over the past month, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to see more of you. We connect very well. We have since that very first night.”

Xava licks her bottom lip and smiles sweetly. “I want that too. Everything you’re saying is accurate for me, too, and I’m so glad you feel the same way. I… I was a little bit worried you would grow bored of me or not want the same thing as I do.”

I shake my head. “That could never happen.”

“In a perfect world, it never would.” There’s a sense of uncertainty in her words. She’s been thrown around so much her entire life that I wonder if she has a problem understanding what’s real and what isn’t. For a woman who’s had the rug pulled out from under her many times, I think she’s doing exceptionally well.

“Then you’re lucky we’re in a perfect world. Don’t let anyone tell you anything differently.”

Xava and I spend the next three hours enjoying our food and wine, having a great conversation, and getting to know one another better than we already did. There’s nothing that ceases to amaze me about her. Every time we connect this way, I’m blown away by the heart she has. I was a bit worried that she wouldn’t be able to stick up for herself after knowing what kind of good heart she had. Luckily, I have witnessed firsthand that she’s completely capable of sticking up and defending herself.

Rolando and my driver take us back to my place and make themselves scarce. I make it a point to take Xava around my home, showing her the different rooms and areas so she knows where everything is and that she’s free to spend time wherever she chooses. I even showed her the outdoor seating area that’s covered, only a few feet away from my infinity pool.

“I didn’t know you were such an art fan,” Xava says out of nowhere.

“Hmm?”

Xava motions toward the paintings I have in the covered area. “I’ve seen paintings and sculptures throughout your home.”

“I guess I do like art. It’s not like I’m someone who has an appreciation of certain styles. If I see something and I like it, I buy it. Simple, but a lot of art collectors would be aggravated with me for lack of not appreciating the true beauty and dedication.” I add a flare at the end, making it a bit theatrical, and Xava laughs.

“My sister isn’t like that. She wants to sell to dealers and collectors, but I think she’s the kind of artist who cares about her artwork meaning something to someone, resonating with them, stuff like that.”

“That is exactly why I buy art. If it doesn’t make me feel something, or if I don’t like it, I don’t buy it.”

Xava and I keep going through the rest of the property and eventually make our way back upstairs after she yawns. I figure she has to be tired, but as I shut the door to my bedroom and turn around, I realize she must not be too exhausted.

A few moments ago, she was in her silky tight dress, and now it’s crumpled up in a pile on the floor. “I thought you were sleepy?”

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