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“Have you tried the quail here?” she asks, her blue eyes round.
“No, is it good?”
“Todiefor,” she gushes before turning to Oscar and ordering it.
“I’ll take the same,” I say to Oscar, grateful for her advice.
“And I’ll have the spiced antelope,” Pyotr finishes, collecting our menus and handing them over.
“Spiced antelope?” I ask in shock. I really should have looked at the menu. It’s starting to sound like this restaurant specializes in rare meat.
“I’ll let you have some,” Pyotr offers, his gaze mildly amused.
Warmth creeps up my neck at the way his gray eyes assess me. “Thanks.”
“So, your family is from Chicago?” Dani asks, retrieving my attention.
“Mm, yes,” I agree, swallowing my sip of drink. “Were you born in New York?”
“Oh, yeah. My family has been here for over a century. My father says that’s why he understands the beating heart of the city so well.” Dani rolls her eyes.
“What does your father do?”
“Oh, he’s the state attorney general,” Dani says nonchalantly, waving off the question as if it doesn’t matter in the slightest.
Meanwhile, my eyes nearly bug out of my head.The attorney general’s daughter hanging out with one of the heirs to New York’s criminal underworld?That hardly seems plausible. I glance at Pyotr for help on this one and only receive an amused chuckle.
“And he doesn’t mind that you spend time with…?” I hesitate; not sure if Dani understands who exactly Pyotr is. I don’t want to be the one to burst that bubble.
Dani shoos the question away with a wave of her fingers. “What my father doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, Pyotr is an old friend of Ben’s. That’s good enough for me.”
I glance toward Pyotr to find his eyes on me, as they have been a lot today. He hasn’t said much since Dani’s arrival, but he seems intrigued by my line of questioning.
“So, what’s your favorite piece of artwork?” Dani asks, redirecting the conversation abruptly.
“You want me to pick just one?” I ask incredulously. I release a huff, vocalizing the impossibility of the task she’s given me. “I mean, there are so many incredible pieces done with so many different mediums. How can I even compare Van Gogh to Escher or Bernini to Georgia O’Keeffe?”
“Okay then, favoritecharcoaldrawing,” Dani clarifies.
I think for a long moment. “Probably Michelangelo’sThe Damned Soul,” I say finally.
“I’ve never even heard of that one,” Dani says, leaning in, intrigued.
I describe it in detail, talking about the haunted expression captured on the man’s face, his eyes.
Dani’s never-ending stream of questions, all astute and engaging, focuses entirely around art. I get lost in the world of paintings and drawings and photography with her, falling into deep conversation.
We barely come up for air when the food arrives. Though I do have to take a moment to fully savor how divine the quail dish tastes. Pyotr listens politely through the whole meal, seeming to pay close attention, though he hardly gets a word in edgewise.
I love every minute of it, amazed that I could meet such a like soul so far from my home. Dani bubbles with creative thought and enthusiasm, and though she’s a few years younger than me, I sense we could become fast friends.
And every time I glance at Pyotr, fully expecting him to have grown bored of the evening, he surprises me. He appears perfectly at ease with our art chatter. Almost…happythat I’ve hit it off so well with Dani. And his thoughtful gray eyes linger on me a startling amount. Every time I get lost in a passionate monologue about this artist or that technique, I find him watching me with open interest.
By the end of dinner, Dani and I exchange phone numbers before hugging our goodbyes. And I’m almost sad to see her go. But she does with a promise to contact me soon and see me the next time I come to New York.
“Well,” Pyotr says after we watch Dani slide into the back seat of her Uber. “It’s a nice night. How would you feel about walking back home?”
I glance around the unfamiliar area, amazed that we could be within walking distance. But he’s not wrong. The air is perfectly mild with a nice cool breeze that’s not too cold.
