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She glances at her glass of water, then at me. “But I want to drink wine.”
“You’re not yet twenty-one, so no wine for you.”
“But in Italy, the legal drinking age is eighteen,” she protests.
“We’re not in Italy. We’re in the U.S. and the legal drinking age is twenty-one.”
She pouts. “But I wanna drink wine.”
“And I wanna bend you over the table and fuck you right now, but I’m not going to, so I guess we’re even.”
She gapes at me again. I can’t stop the chuckle that wells up. “Doesn’t take much to shock you.”
“Ha!” She tosses her hair. “Enjoy it while you can. I’m a fast learner.” She takes a sip of water from her glass, then sets it back on the table. "Thank you, by the way.”
"For what?" I raise the glass of wine and sniff its bouquet.
"For the books earlier, then for defending me from the paparazzi. And now, this." She waves a hand in the air. "It would be a lot better if I knew what you wanted from me, but I guess I can’t have everything, huh?"
She looks, and I hold her gaze. "I’m not sure what I want from you, either. I was really pissed at you—not so much for this scar…" I gesture to my forehead. "Although admittedly, that did alter the course of my career. But hey, being a villain in Hollywood is not so bad, I’m finding out."
"I’m so sorry, Declan."
I wave my hand. "It’s not your fault your brother sent those guys after me. I should have anticipated the encounter ending like that. I was angrier that you implied to him that I'd forced you."
She swallows. "I didn’t know what else to say. Diego… His anger was not pretty. He’d have punished me, and I was scared."
"I understand that now."
"You do?" Her gaze widens.
"You were fourteen, a kid. And while seeing you again reignited a need for revenge, which I admit, was on my mind when I first asked you to join me in LA, I quickly realized the error in my thinking."
"So, you… forgive me?"
I tap my fingers on the table. "Let’s just say, I don’t blame you anymore for what happened."
"Okay."
"Okay."
"So, is this a truce?" She holds up her glass of water
"It’s a… beginning of our friendship."
"Friendship?" Her forehead furrows.
"Friends. You and me." I clink my glass with hers, then take a sip of the wine. "Not bad." For the most expensive wine on the menu.
“Can I take a sip, please? I’ve never tasted wine before.”
“Never?”
She shakes her head.
“Hmm. Since this is an evening of firsts for you—” I slide my glass across the table. “A taste won’t hurt I suppose.”
She snatches up the glass takes a sip then coughs, "Ugh, it tastes like vinegar."
