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He opens his mouth to say something but seems to think better of it. “Fuck.” It’s the barest of whispers, but I still hear it. I train my eyes on Eris, and from the periphery, I see Daniil studying me closely. “Because… I’m trying something new here.”
“And that is?”
“Dinner. I want to take you for dinner.”
I sit up straighter and face him. “I’m sorry. What? Like a business function? I-need-to-be-seen-with-my-new-wife kind of thing?” Because honestly, we haven’t shared a meal since we moved in together. The only reason for us to go out would be for show. “What’s the dress code?”
“The dress code is whatever the hell you want it to be.” He shrugs, a smile playing on his lips. Gone is the stern mafia boss, and in his place is Daniil, the roguishly sexy man I met at the poker bar on our fateful first night. “It’s not a business event. I figure if you’re going to live in Brooklyn, you should try the best pizza the city has to offer.”
“Oh.” I sound like a moron, but this is so unexpected I don’t have the presence of mind to question his motivations. “Give me a few minutes to get changed.”
He nods. “And for the love of all that is holy please leave that animal in her crate.” But he surprises me by bending down and ruffling Eris’s fur, rubbing behind her ears as she wriggles all over him. Shit. Didn’t expect that.
“Aren’t you allergic to dogs?”
A huff of laughter passes between his lips. “Is that what Mikhail told you?”
“Yeah.”
He gives me the barest of smiles, his eyes roving over my face. “Yeah, I’m really fucking allergic.” With that he stands and leaves me to my increasingly turbulent thoughts.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
BIANCA
Daniil is driving,and I can’t stop stealing glances at him. This is the first time I’ve seen him behind the wheel of a car, and it shouldn’t be this sexy, should it? But the way he steers the Audi like it’s an extension of himself, maneuvering through the streets of Brooklyn with exacting control, looking like a cross between a movie star and a motorcycle gang member—no, like a movie starplayinga motorcycle gang member—is hot as hell. He’s dressed down in ripped jeans and a white T-shirt that hugs every hard plane of his torso, leaving his full arm sleeves on display.
I swallow hard, and look out the window, distracting myself from ogling Daniil by watching Brooklyn come alive at night. This place has such a different vibe than Miami, but I like it. More edge, less glitz and glamor, which suits me fine. Not like I’ll be here forever.
But this dinner is a step in the right direction. For whatever reason, he’s softened towards me, and I’m going to take full advantage of the chance to have him open up.
Beside me, Daniil clears his throat. Turning towards him, I catch him dragging his gaze down my body. “You look nice,” he says, adjusting his position on the buttery leather seat. But the way he’s looking at me doesn’t suggest thatniceis the most accurate word. More like smoking hot.
I suppress a smile as I wave my hands in front of me in a this-old-thing gesture. I’m wearing a sky-blue halter dress with the fitted top showing the perfect amount of cleavage while the defined waist gives way to a flared skirt with a slit on one side. It’s not over-the-top sexy, but it shows enough skin and flatters my hourglass figure.
A rush of warmth floods my veins as I carefully cross my left thigh over my right, so he can get a peek of smooth brown thigh. If this is my only chance to seduce my husband, I am going to make the best of it.
He cracks his neck and brings his focus back to the road ahead.
Score one for me!
Daniil pulls to the curb in front of a little restaurant tucked away on a nondescript street. This is no grand steak house or five-star Michelin eatery that I imagine he frequents. Then again, looking at him tonight, he seems like a regular guy. Minus his souped-up Audi with bulletproof windows, he looks like any other handsome young Brooklynite going about their evening.
Entering the restaurant, we’re whisked from the front door to a cozy table on the charming back patio. Fairy lights twinkle overhead, and red checkered tablecloths are draped beneath empty wine bottles that function as candleholders. While we’re the only ones on this patio tonight, which I know was Daniil’s doing, it still feels like a night out.
A waiter comes over to us, bearing water and wine, and Daniil says to him, “The usual, Sal.”
“You got it, kid.”
“Kid!” I scoff as Sal trudges towards the kitchen. “I take it you’re a regular here?”
“You could say that.” His lips turn up at the corners, and he adds, “I’ve been coming here for half of my life. It’s one of the few places where I can relax and not feel like the world is breathing down my neck.”
And yet, he brought me here. To his haven. I shouldn’t read into it, but I can’t help the rush of warmth that floods my system. I still don’t understand what’s going on here. He’s attracted to me, that much is clear, but weeks of ignoring me, and now an intimate dinner? Maybe I’m being paranoid, but why the change of heart?
“So… what gives?” I ask, taking a sip from my wineglass. “What are we doing here?”
He huffs a little laugh and runs his thumb over his bottom lip. “We’re having dinner.” His voice is low and sexy, like the purr of an engine, and my thighs clench together in response.
