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CHAPTER35
Antonio had never been so nervous in his life as he was when he stood outside his hotel, waiting for Katie to show up. They’d agreed to meet here, then go to dinner together. He’d made reservations at a quiet little Italian restaurant around the corner. Afterward, she could leave or stay. He tried not to have any expectations, but he wanted things.
When a town car pulled up and she got out of the back, he was reminded of why it was bad to want things. She had gone back to her pampered life of privilege, and he could never give her those things. Even if he had been given a rather substantial stipend for completing the job, it still didn’t compare to what she was used to.
He hid those thoughts behind a smile as she walked toward him, dressed casually, yet nice. She’d dressed up a pair of slacks with heels and a wraparound blouse with strategic cutouts that made his mouth water.
He clenched his hands into fists to keep from grabbing her face and crashing their lips together. From grabbing her around her thighs and picking her up and grinding his erection into her hot core. From stripping her with his teeth, biting her along the way.
He refrained from showing her how badly he wanted her, and it hurt to do.
She was an understated sexy that oozed class and money and he was so out of his league.
Well, that wasn’t what tonight was about anyway. He had to remind himself that he was starting over with her. He had to earn back the trust that had been obliterated during her confinement. If he couldn’t get that, he was going to have to say goodbye to the best thing that ever happened to him.
“Hungry?” he asked as he put his hand on her back to steer her down the street.
“Not really.” She grimaced before giving him a half-hearted smile. There wasn’t any panic in her eyes, so he wasn’t triggering anything with her, which he’d been afraid of. But still, there wasn’t any warmth or softness either, not like before. “It’s nerves, I’m sure.”
“Why are you nervous? It’s just dinner.”
She shrugged, looking at the pavement in front of her. “I know. But we have some things to talk about.” A steel rod straightened her spine, and he saw the determination in the posture. She had things to say.
He would listen to every word.
“I picked a place that looked pretty quiet. Asked for a booth in the back. We should have all the privacy to say what you need to say.”
He hoped she would say a lot. As much as they’d been through, he still didn’t know if she hated him or not. He supposed she didn’t since she’d agreed to dinner with him, but her letters had gone back and forth. She hadn’t been particularly warm during her visit to the ranch, and he was utterly clueless about what to expect.
Suddenly, he was nervous too.
In the restaurant, they sat at the table in the corner he’d requested, where it was quiet and dimly lit. There was enough space between them she should feel safe, but they were close enough they could talk privately.
He watched Katie open her napkin and spread it across her lap before arranging the silverware next to the bread plate so that everything was exactly evenly spaced.
Antonio let her have her moment of OCD, knowing it was a way to cope with nerves. When she looked up at him expectantly, he broke the silence.
“So, how are things going with you?”
It sounded lame, trite. But he was honestly curious how she was coping with the aftermath.
“I’m okay. Getting through everything. It was horrific, but I have a good life and am moving on.” She smiled at him as she spoke, but it didn’t reach her eyes. They were cold and vague. Distant.
“You don’t have to do that.” He gritted out the words, frustrated with himself as much as her. He wanted this to be easier, like they had been.
“Do what?” Her eyes had the look of someone feigning innocence, but true innocence wasn’t there. She knew exactly the mask she was putting up.
Just then, the waiter walked up to the table.
“Are you guys ready to order?”
She shook her head, muttering something about antipasto. He ordered the lasagna, suddenly not hungry either, but knowing he would want something to do with his hands.
As soon as the waiter walked away with the menus they hadn’t looked at, he gripped the table and leaned forward.
“You’re hiding. Don’t hide from me.”
“How can I hide from you? You have to know exactly what I’m going through. You caused it.” Fire sparked in her face, and a triumphant smile lit his. He squashed it, but not before she got to see it.
