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CHAPTER7
Emma
I’ll give him just one chance. It’s only one night. I can handle this.
As I climb out of the car, I pull my coat tighter around me. It’s so cold. He shuts the door behind me, still holding my hand and pulling me close to him.
He wraps his arm around my waist, and I lean into him. I can feel his warmth through my jacket.
I’m so fucked. Nothing he admits will ward me away. I already know it. Even as I asked him if he’d ever killed before, I was already making excuses for him. My heart stopped beating, and my body felt cold. I wanted him to deny it, even though I already knew the truth.
I was ruined the day he took me home five years ago. That day changed me forever. I’ve never stopped wanting him, even knowing the person he truly is.
“So this is your place?” I ask him in a whisper as we walk up the snow-dusted path.
“I only own fifty-one percent, and I don’t really do the work. I’m more of a financial investor,” he answers as he opens the door. I’m instantly hit with a wave of warmth, the faint sounds of chatter surrounding us as the door closes and we’re finally inside.
His restaurant is beautiful. I’ve never been here before, and it’s definitely new. I love carbs and every Italian dish I’ve ever met. I want to ask him how this all happened, when it was built. But I don’t want to question him if it means prying into…theotherbusiness. I grip my wristlet and gently clear my throat, taking in the luxurious atmosphere.
The deep mahogany floors and matching trim contrast with the cream-colored walls. Round café style tables fill the center of the room that’s bordered by booths. The tables are all covered with deep red linen tablecloths, with a candle and one white rose in the center of each. Ornate wrought iron chandeliers hang from the exposed beam ceiling.
It looks so much bigger inside than it did from the outside.
He nods at the maître d', who obviously recognizes Derek, and then continues to lead me back, not stopping for a moment. His hand is splayed on my lower back as he walks us to a corner booth in the rear of the restaurant, away from everyone else.
I’m trying to calm down, but it suddenly hits me that this is more intimate, more serious than anything we’ve ever done.
This is a date. Like a real live date. My skin pricks, and anxiety flows through my blood as if just realizing what this is.
A public date. Not a secret. My heart beats a little faster as I peek up at him from the corner of my eye, a violent blush lighting my cheeks on fire.
Derek Wade is…taking me on a first date. My heart flips, and I nervously tuck a bit of hair behind my ear, turning away from him.
“It’s quiet back here,” I say timidly as he slides into the middle of the curved booth, facing the crowd. I sit down at the end of the black leather bench, but he motions for me to sit next to him, not across from him.
“I won’t bite.”
Somehow my cheeks flame even hotter, and I do as he says. I slide around the circular table, and he pulls me in close. I stare at my hands in my lap, my fingers twisting around each other. I just need to calm down.
Soft classical music spills from the speakers above us and being so far in the back, it’s slightly darker here, cozier.
He only wants to feed me.
The thought makes me roll my eyes, but at least it puts me at ease.
“I like the privacy,” Derek says, breaking the silence. I don’t have a moment to respond.
“Good evening Mr. Wade, my name is Peter and I’ll be your waiter for the evening,” a young man says as he approaches the table. He gives me a small, polite smile as he places a bread basket in front of us before turning his attention to Derek.
The waiter has a bit of an accent, and it takes me a moment to realize he called Derek, “Mr. Wade.” He can’t be any older than twenty. I’d be shocked if he is. He pulls out his pad and a pen to take our orders. His stubble is spotty. He’s definitely still just a kid.
“Could you bring us a bottle of Montoya Cabernet? Scampi for our appetizer, but don’t wait on our entrees to bring it out. And we’ll split the penne and the risotto.” Derek looks across the table at me, handing the menus on the table to the young waiter. “You’re gonna love it.” He smiles a sweet, reassuring grin as he adds, “Trust me.”
God help me, I do trust him.
“Of course, Mr. Wade. I’ll be right back with your wine,” Peter says as he bows his head and turns toward the kitchen.
I finally look up at Derek, and I’m shaken up by how at ease he seems. I still can’t get over the fact that he owns this place. That he took me here. I didn’t expect this. Ever. No man has ever held a candle to Derek, but I hadn’t ever pictured him back in my life. Now I don’t know how to handle this.
