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CHAPTERNINE
Angelo
The room seemed to sway as I watched her walk in. Her dress clung to her figure tightly, revealing what the lab coats and jackets had hidden away. The top of her small dress was doing its best to hold back her perfectly shaped bust. Despite the bra that held them at bay, I could already imagine the works of art that lay underneath. Her waist was slim, accentuated by the dress, which secured her rounded hips. Maria Doyle was not just a pretty face; she had the body of a Persian queen. And she would put every other woman to shame, having curves in all the right places.
I sat in the far corner of the room, watching her as she walked in. She did not notice where I sat. I had put out most of the lights and allowed only a bit of dim lighting from some candles and the fireplace to illuminate the room, giving me a dazzling view of this spectacle of a woman.
Maria looked around the house in awe, and I smiled to myself. It was probably the first time she had been in a building this expensive. I watched as she ran a finger over the leather chairs and walked slowly through the room, drawing closer to me. A small part of me wanted to reach out and grab her, pull her onto my thighs and have her right there. But I had to show a bit of restraint. As much as I was drawn to the woman, I had to play my cards right. Otherwise, I would lose the game entirely.
She turned her head to the side, scanning the room again. This allowed me to admire more of her fiery red hair in the incandescent lights of the room. The beauty of her profile was plain, curving to the small details of her face. A breeze from the balcony blew into the room, carrying her perfume to my nose. I instantly felt a wave of intoxication flow over me. As I let out a deep breath, she turned and spotted me in my seat, jumping backward.
“Jesus Christ! Have you been sitting there the entire time?” Maria asked, startled.
I rose to my feet, still a little dazed from her beauty. “Yes. Sorry for not making my presence known earlier. I was just taking the time to admire you,” I said with a cheeky smile, loving how I made her feel uncomfortable with my gaze. I continued, wanting to show her how she looked in my eyes. “You look absolutely stunning, Maria.”
“Thank you,” Maria replied shyly. She squinted a bit to get a better look at me. “You look nice yourself, I suppose.”
I chuckled. “Well, I appreciate your kind words,” I teased. “Join me for dinner?” I had already started growing impatient. I wanted dinner to finish so that I could have her all by myself.
She nodded. “Where are we going?”
“Going?” I asked. “For dinner? Oh, no. I prepared a meal for us. Join me out on the balcony and you’ll see.”
Maria turned around to the balcony, surprise and worry etched into her face. I stopped myself from smiling as I realized her nose crinkled up a bit as she made the expression. I extended an open palm, offering to guide her to the balcony, and after what looked like a second of hesitation, she took my hand. I realized that she was trying to remain as calm as possible. She was probably still upset with what I had done. I began to wonder just how far I could push her, see at what point she would snap and give up the act.
I walked her out to the balcony, with the smell of the sea rising from afar. The sounds of cars driving could be heard faintly below us. I pulled back a chair and gestured for her to sit. As she did, her outer thigh brushed against my fingers ever so gently, sending a shiver up my spine. I could smell her hair as I pushed the chair closer to the table, the thoughts of running my hand through the lush red mass being the only thing that filled my mind. I pulled a napkin and placed it down on her thighs before I walked around to the table.
I removed the cloche from the first dish and grabbed a small plate for her, laying down some smoked salmon, prawn salad and dill on her plate. I added a wedge of lemon to the plate and poured her a small glass of champagne. Placing it down in front of her, I returned to serve the same for myself and got to work on some cocktails. As I dished out the food, I noticed that she was watching me. I smiled to myself, allowing her to take as much of me in as she wanted. If she could see that I was a normal person just like she was, then maybe she would open up to me.
“How about a Bloody Mary?” I said with a smile as I grabbed my fork to eat.
“Before that, well… Look, I know you are rich and all, but this is like two strips of salmon, and...What? Some grass from your garden? I don’t know about you, but I eat a lot more than this. How about we just order pizza?” Maria asked with a smile, and I knew she was testing my limits and trying to offend me.
I held back a laugh, “But this is just the appetizer. The main course is yet to come.”
“Oh,” She replied, watching me bring together her drink. “Bloody Mary, huh?”
“You know a lot of people believe that the Mary being referred to is the mother of Christ; however, it’s actually a Tudor of the sixteenth century. She was a woman who was, in every right, quite bloody,” I began.
“Great, a history lesson over dinner. Would you mind if we change the topic from blood to something else?” Maria said, laughing a bit to break the ice while still slightly pushing me. I could tell she was trying to restrain herself from being rude, but some of that emotion still slipped through. I liked that passion, though. She paused and took another bite with her fork. “Okay, this is actually really good. Kiss the cook from me after the meal because this is truly amazing.” She moaned softly, and I could very much want to hear that sound on another occasion.
“Well, I cannot kiss myself, but I won’t stop you from trying,” I replied with a smile.
Maria looked up in disbelief. “You made this?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Well, it’s not bad, I meant to say. What about the rest of it? Did you make that?” She asked, motioning to the rest of the food still covered on the table.
“I made everything that we will be eating tonight. I cooked it all myself. I had a bit of help with the main course, but don’t tell anyone,” I said with a mischievous smile.
She laughed, “So you’re a chef then? Or maybe you worked in a kitchen at some point in your life?”
“Bingo. I used to clean up dishes in a soup kitchen downtown on 96thwhen I was a boy,” I replied, taking a sip of my champagne. “How do you like the wine?”
“Verychampagne-y, thanks,” said Maria. “So, we know where you learned to clean dishes… Where did you learn to cook?”
“From my father,” I replied, licking lemon off my lips as I stared at her.
