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Instead, I turn to the door. “Greek sounds good.”
There’s a short pause before Evander takes my arm. “Right this way then.”
I let him guide me outside. It’s a cool, comfortable mid-summer night, and Evander walks with purpose like the city’s an ocean and he’s a shark parting the waters.
The restaurant is a couple blocks away, a little hole in the wall, and the staff greet Evander like he’s the pope coming for a visit. We get a great table up front near the windows and the owner himself comes out, a little man with dark hair and a big, warm smile. He practically kisses Evander’s ring before food arrives without us having to order.
“Are you always treated like this?” I ask in astonishment.
Evander sits back, still not smiling. “In certain places, yes, I am. Are you going to tell me whoheis yet?”
“Nope.” I start eating. It’s absolutely delicious. Kebabs, vegetables, hummus, Greek meatballs, spanakopita so flaky it falls apart like butter in my mouth. Evander barely touches the food and watches me with that cold, curious expression, until I can’t take him staring anymore. “What can I say to make you stop looking at me like I’m a zoo animal?”
“You can tell me that you have a place to sleep tonight.”
“Why would you—” I stop myself and clench my jaw. I have to take a breath before I go off on him again. I don’t like the way this man’s seeing straight through me. “I appreciate you bailing me out back at the hotel, and I appreciate you feeding me, but you’ve got something wrong.”
He raises an eyebrow, which is the most emotion I’ve seen from him so far. “What’s that?”
“I amnothelpless.” I glare at him and feel the flame of five years of living with Christopher burning in my chest.
Five years of bowing and scraping, cooking and cleaning, explaining away bruises and laughing off black eyes.
Five years of misery.
Five nightmarish years, ever since I was an eighteen-year-old kid.
Now I’m twenty-three, still a kid. I don’t know a thing about the world and I don’t have any useful skills, but I will not shackle myself to another man.
Not ever again.
Evander smiles. It’s a beautiful smile, and I’m taken aback. His face goes from dark and brooding to light and joyful in moments. It’s like someone turned a spotlight on his features. He strokes a thumb down his stubbled chin and laughs, shaking his head, leans forward, and plucks a piece of cheese from my plate.
“No, Camille, I don’t think I’d ever call youhelpless.”
“We only just met. You don’t know a thing about me, and you’re acting like I’m some homeless vagrant or something.”
“I’ve met many people like you in my time.” He waves a hand dismissively in the air which only makes me want to punch him in the teeth. “You are most certainly not the type to admit you need help. But if you can tell me where you’re sleeping tonight, I’ll pretend like none of this happened.”
“I already said thank you.” I glare at him, arms crossed, no longer hungry. Mostly because I already stuffed my face, but still. He’s pissing me off, and I don’t know where I’m sleeping, but that’s my problem to solve, not his.
“And yet you haven’t told me whoheis yet.”
I grind my jaw. This big bastard’s not letting it go. I could get up and walk away right now—I don’t think he’d stop me, not in such a crowded place—but where would I go? It’s dark and I’m on an unfamiliar street, and I don’t know if I can afford an Uber or a cab. Worse, I have no clue where I’d go if I could.
This is basically the most poorly planned escape ever.
But I didn’t have time. I saw my chance, and I took it without hesitating, because hesitating would’ve meant getting caught.
I lean back, studying him. “How about this? I graciously let you pay for this lovely meal, and you promise not to ask me about him again. Do we have a deal?”
Evander’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Let me get you a room at the Drake and we have a deal.”
I blink at him rapidly. Did this man just proposition me? But he didn’t saycome back to my room, he said,let me get you a room, like he’s offering to pay for a hotel for me, and only me.
“No, thank you. I thought you said you didn’t want a date? I’d rather just—”
“Keep running?” He pitched his voice lower, forcing me to lean in to hear him. “And where does that end? You still haven’t told me where you’re sleeping tonight. I suspect you have no plan beyond the next five minutes. And I wasn’t lying, I’m not interested in a date.”
