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He shakes his head but smiles and slices through a piece to place it on his tongue. “Tender and delicious.”
“You would like the taste of blood.”
“The hairdresser will fix your hair tomorrow afternoon.”
“My hair’s fine.”
“It’s literally crooked.”
“What happened?” I ask, gesturing to the bruised knuckles of his hand with a nod of my head.
He glances at it. “Nothing.”
“Was it your business meeting? The thing you were in such a rush to get to?”
“You’re feeling better after your nap,” he says instead of answering my question. “Refreshed and contrary.”
“I’m feeling better after seeing Liam, and I’ll always be contrary when it comes to you.”
“Lucky me.”
It’s quiet, and I look around at the other diners, at the couples on dates. Smiling, chatting, drinking their drinks.
“What are we doing, Damian?”
“What do you mean?”
“Here. What are we doing here?”
“I told you, we have papers to sign.”
“This. My cousin. Dinner. You attempting not to be a complete jerk.”
“We’ll be together for the foreseeable future. Do you prefer I keep you locked up in a cage?”
“You brought me to get me out of the house and away from your father.”
“That’s a happy coincidence My reasons are more selfish.”
I remember what he said this morning at breakfast. That we’d finish what he started last night. The thought sends a flutter of emotion I’d like to label as anxiety through me but that’s not what it is.
It’s anticipation.
He grins.
I’m a freaking open book.
“Eat,” he says when I put my fork down.
Looking up, I consider him. As easily as he seems to read me, I can’t make out heads or tails with him.
“Why do you want me?” I finally ask.
“Pardon?”
“What you said earlier.” I lower my lashes, shifting my gaze sideways when I continue so I don’t have to look at him. “Finishing what we started.”
“Ah.”
“I can’t imagine you’re hard up for women.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“No.”
He chuckles. “No, I’m not hard up.”
“Then why?”
He studies me as he finishes his meal and, after wiping his mouth, sits back and raises a finger for another drink.
Once the waiter delivers it and leaves, we resume our conversation. “I’ll answer your question if you promise to answer mine.”
“What’s your question?”
“Agree?”
“I have to hear your question first.”
“Is that more important than an honest answer to yours?”
“Does that mean you’ll be honest?”
“I don’t lie, Cristina. Do you agree to answer my question?”
“Fine. I agree.”
He leans in close, and I have a feeling I’m going to regret asking. “It’s all very simple actually. There’s something about you that I can’t quite put my finger on. Something that makes me want you. That makes me wonder what you’ll feel like when I sink my cock inside you.”
My throat goes dry, and I can’t look at him. I turn my gaze all around the room, sure everyone just heard that, but they all seem to be going on with their conversations. Their lives.
It takes me a full minute to compose myself and file away what he said somewhere I hope to never have to see it again.
When I finally look back up at him, he’s still watching me.
“You asked, remember.”
I pick up my glass to busy myself.
“Ready for your question?” he asks.
I don’t answer him. Instead, I take a sip of my drink.
“Why are you still a virgin?” he asks.
I nearly choke on that mouthful. “What?”
He laughs outright at my expense.
“I take back what I said earlier, Damian. You’re still a jerk.” I search for the waiter, raise my hand like Damian did when I catch his eye, but I’m ignored.
The instant Damian casually raises his, though, the waiter rushes over like he can’t get there fast enough, and within minutes, I have a new drink.
“It’s a man’s world,” Damian says when he sees my look of irritation.
He’s fucking with me. He wants to get a rise out of me.
I swallow a big sip. The vodka makes me reckless, and I want to wipe that smug grin off his face. I want to punch it off, actually.
“Don’t you mean your father’s world?” I ask, watching his reaction closely. “Or maybe your brother’s?”
His jaw tightens, and my grin widens because Liam told me a few things earlier.
“I know a little something about you, Damian Di Santo. I know what your family deals in. I know Benedict Di Santo was head of your family until he had his stroke. And I know your brother was meant to be his successor. He was the chosen one. Not you. You were never meant to be in the position you’re in. So, whose world do you mean exactly?”
He studies me for an endless, dark moment.
“Is this what you and your cousin got up to? Maybe I need to rethink future visits.”
I open my mouth to argue but something in his eyes warns me not to.
When he stands, the muted conversations of the other diners fade away entirely. It’s as if he and I are the only two left in the restaurant, the world. He steps to my side of the table, looming over me.
