Page 42 of Thief of Hearts

When she left he leaned across the table toward me. “I have a confession.”

I couldn’t begin to imagine what he had to confess. With him it could be just about anything.

“And an apology. Now, in my defense, it would have offended my god if I hadn’t done it because he is a fervent lover of all beautiful things. But earlier . . . I looked.”

“I know,” I said.

After a brief pause he said, “And I’m still alive to tell the tale?”

My mouth twitched. “The rules say I’m not allowed to kill a fellow competitor.”

He grinned at me, which caused my own smile to break free.

I knew that I should confess and apologize as well. “I looked, too. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I told you last night that you could.” He shifted in his chair. “Did you like what you saw?”

“Very much.” I had said that far too enthusiastically.

His eyes smoldered in the low light and I feared that whatever he proposed in the next twenty seconds I was going to immediately agree to.

The server returned with wine, thankfully interrupting the moment. I grabbed my glass and sipped, grateful for an excuse to be doing something else with my mouth besides admitting to things that I shouldn’t.

The wine was excruciatingly sweet and delicious, so I had to set it back down. I had never held my alcohol well and this would be the worst situation in which to lose my inhibitions.

He let out a soft sigh after he took a drink. “I do enjoy tasting sweet things.”

My pulse throbbed so hard in my wrist I was afraid it would burst free. “No one has ever described me as sweet.”

“Who said I was talking about you?” he teased, but I had understood his meaning.

“Then who were you talking about? What kind of woman do you normally . . .” Taste seemed like the wrong word to use. “Spend time with?”

“Hetaerae.”

That seemed about right. I couldn’t even pretend to be surprised.

“It’s easy,” he continued. “They’re mostly interested in what pretty trinkets I’ll bring them.”

“Yes, well, they have to secure their future somehow for when men deem them no longer young enough or pretty enough to spend the night with.”

“That is a fair point,” he conceded.

“And hetaerae aren’t the only ones who like pretty trinkets. Maybe that’s the whole reason I’m competing.”

“The main prize isn’t a trinket. It’s something that can change your life.”

Good. That was exactly what I wanted it to do.

The server came with our food. She placed the plates down in front of us. “Roasted lavraki seasoned with fresh thyme and olive oil.”

It sounded rather simplistic—I had been expecting something more exciting. And I was concerned about the freshness of the fish, considering that we were so far from the ocean.

My knife sank through the fish easily, and when I put a bite into my mouth . . .

Sheer bliss.

The flavor was delicate and buttery with a hint of sweetness. I closed my eyes to savor the taste for a moment longer.