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“Nuh-uh, no,” she snaps, wagging a finger at me. “You don’t get to do that. Your bedroom voice is not going to get you out of this.”
“I wouldn’t dare try to get out of this. I’m having far too much fun.”
Her full lips pout into a frown, which is only making things more entertaining for me. When Luna walked up to my table, flustered and nervous, she was intriguing. But now, all fight and fire and accidental confessions, she’s captivating.
She throws her napkin down on the table and flops back in her seat. Her legs are crossed. I trace the path of revealed skin from her knee to where her dress slit stops near her hip bone. I make a mental note to taste that spot later.
“I’m glad you’re having fun. But I’m not. Which might have something to do with being lied to all night.”
“I didn’t tell you my name. You should be thanking me for that. If I had, you would’ve gone to dinner with that mudak your friend tried setting you up with. Speaking of which: I’m not so sure she’s really your friend.”
“You think I should be grateful?” She snorts. “Yeah fucking right. Kayla may have terrible taste, but at least she isn’t a liar.”
She’s trying so hard to make me the villain here. It’s funny because, in almost every other area of my life, I am the villain. There’s evidence everywhere you look. Hell, just take that poor biker’s blood on the inside of my wrist if you need proof.
Not that she'll ever learn about any of that. Luna is a distraction for tonight and tonight alone. In the morning, she'll be nothing but a memory.
I lean forward. “You were having a good time with me.”
“That’s not a question.”
“It wasn’t meant to be. You were having a good time with me,” I repeat. “Whether I was here or not, you were going to be eating dinner with a stranger regardless.”
Her lips part. She wants to argue, but she can’t. She knows I’m right.
“The only difference between you eating with the asshole I just threw on the sidewalk or me is that, with me, you enjoyed yourself.” As the waitress walks past, I tap my glass to let her know I want a refill. “Am I wrong?”
“The difference is that I knew his name,” she snaps.
I hold out my hand. “I’m Yakov.”
She glares at my extended hand, but doesn’t take it. So I quickly grab her hand and curl her fingers against my lips.
Luna stops breathing. For a second, her eyes are wide and she just stares at me. When I finally pull my kiss away, she comes to enough to remember she’s mad at me and yanks her hand back.
“Now that that’s out of the way… am I wrong?”
“Wrong about what?” she asks, slightly dazed.
“Was I wrong in thinking you were having a good time with me?”
Luna is staring daggers into me, but it’s softened by the nervous twist of her lips. “No.”
“Then it’s settled. We’re finishing the date.”
Luna holds her stare for a few seconds before she blows a strand of hair off of her forehead. “Are you always this bossy?”
“Always. Professionally so.”
“You’re a boss?” She slides her bowl of stew closer and takes a bite. I’ve never seen someone eat resentfully before. Resentful, that is, until her full lips wrap around the spoon and she gets her first taste. Then her eyes flutter closed and I briefly lose my train of thought. The train derails completely when she lets out a soft moan. “Wow. This is good.”
“I told you.” I knew she’d like it. I just had no idea how much I’d like watching her like it.
“Of course you did.” She rolls her eyes, but she can’t help but smile. “You’re right about everything, or so you’d like me to think. I’m sure it helps in your line of work.”
“It helps in every line of work. I recommend it.”
She snorts. “What kind of boss are you?”
