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The Storm signaled for a waiter, who appeared at his side in a blink. He had a couple of menus tucked under his arm, but my brunch partner didn’t bother asking for them.
“We’ll have the tasting menu,” he said. “Water for me.” He glanced across the table toward me. “What would you like to drink? The fresh-pressed juices here are excellent. But I won’t be offended if you’d prefer something stronger.”
Er, no, I thought I was much better off keeping as clear a head as possible for this conversation. “Orange juice sounds good,” I said to the waiter.
As the man zipped off, I couldn’t resist a dry remark. “I am capable of ordering for myself, you know, despite my feminine frailty.”
The Storm chuckled. “I’m sorry—I wasn’t trying to offend. I figured it was my duty to make sure you get the best possible impression of this place, considering my family owns the restaurant—and the rest of the complex as well. It’s a matter of pride.”
I picked up my fork and wagged it at him. “As long as you didn’t steer me wrong.”
“Oh, I think you’ll be happy once the food starts arriving. And if you’re not, you can smack me over the head with a menu and pick something else.”
His gray eyes twinkled with amusement. I wondered if he would actually let me get away with dismissing his food choices—or with smacking him.
I wasn’t going to let myself be charmed, but my posture had relaxed since I’d first sat down. This meeting was a far cry from yesterday’s stilted conversation with Mara Reilly. It was hard not to admire the casual ease of this guy’s banter.
Niko would have liked him. A pang shot through me as I thought of the men I’d left behind—the men I wished I was having brunch with instead, no matter how handsome or charming the Storm might be.
If he was planning on putting the moves on me, he’d be disappointed. My heart belonged to someone else. Three someones.
I just had to hope he’d take no for an answer without a fight.
Our drinks appeared in a flash, and I sipped my orange juice while I debated how to steer the conversation next. The burst of tangy sweetness over my tongue had my eyes widening.
Okay, this really was amazing stuff.
As I lowered the glass, the Storm aimed another smile at me, this one slyly knowing. Then his expression turned unexpectedly serious.
He cleared his throat. “You know, before we go any further, I should say—I’m not sure what your mother’s told you, but I got the impression— Let’s just put it as, if either of you were hoping that a more-than-friendly relationship would develop between us, you should know up front that I’m already taken.”
A laugh of relief tumbled from my mouth. I found myself grinning back at him. “Oh, good. Thank you for clearing that up. Because I am too. But I’m not sure my mother cares about that.”
I clamped my mouth shut, afraid I’d overshared with the honest remark, but the Storm’s next smile was soft with understanding. “I bet she’s putting a lot of pressure on you to meet her expectations, huh? Believe me, I know what that’s like. I’m just glad we’re on the same page.”
I exhaled in a rush. “Yeah. Me too.” I considered him more thoughtfully. Mom would still want to know where she stood with him—and for me to make a good impression. “I, ah, don’t mean to make things with her sound bad. She’s very good at what she does, and I know she mostly just wants me to follow in her footsteps just as well.”
That much was true, even if I was leaving out how little I agreed with her about my calling.
“From what I know about the Deadly Rose, I don’t have any trouble believing that,” the Storm remarked cryptically. “But it’s good to see she’s also raised you to have a mind of your own.”
Ha. That part wasn’t so much Mom’s doing as my one possible rebellion.
I shrugged, my smile going crooked. “I try.”
The waiter reappeared with two small plates that contained a meticulously carved appetizer—some fruit I couldn’t recognize in its current state, drizzled with spices. I dug my fork in and nearly swooned at the blend of flavors that laced my tongue.
My companion’s mouth stretched into a full grin. “I can see we won’t be needing the menu.”
I mock-glowered at him. “Be grateful for your head.”
Over the next few dishes, which were all equally delicious, it was easy to fall into a breezy back-and-forth as if we were acquaintances simply getting to know each other better. But I never completely let go of the tension coiled inside me, the constant awareness of how much influence the man across from me could wield.
It was still possible his charm was an act. That he was trying to lull me into complacency for some unpleasant goal.
Even if I wanted nothing to do with the criminal world, I had to keep up my role while I was here. And that meant I couldn’t show any cracks, any weaknesses.
The Storm took a bite of cheddar grits that had proved to be as soft and fluffy as a cloud and swallowed. “I hope I’ve made a good impression. It’s not often you get the heir to the Deadly Rose in your restaurant. What do you think?”
