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"I don't have a favorite food. I eat anything that’s placed in front of me."
Just as quickly, I imagine him as a young teen on the streets of Tuscany. He was probably mistreated and had to scrounge for food. No wonder he's so loyal to the Montavios.
"And yours?" he asks without looking at me.
"Chocolate, obviously."
I take another bite of chicken.
"Obviously," he says thoughtfully. "Why is it obvious?"
"Because women who like pain like chocolate. Don't you know that?"
I just made that up, but it sounds good.
"Guess I do now. Chocolate. Any particular type?"
"I would've said Swiss until Marialena introduced me to Italian chocolate. So now, I have to admit that you guys make pretty damn good chocolate."
"Milk? Dark? Nuts, caramel?"
"Just chocolate. I don’t discriminate."
"Fair enough. Do you listen to music?"
"Lots of different kinds. I put on playlists and hit shuffle. You?"
He shrugs. “I like hard rock."
Predictable.
"Do you like to read?” This feels weirdly like a first date.
"I like to read… people," he answers mysteriously. Now he does look into my eyes, and that unfamiliar flush covers my cheeks again. He does. He's not lying.
"I'm a YouTube girl, myself," I say, quickly choking down a glass of wine because that sounded kind of stupid.
"You watch YouTube instead of read?"
"Yes. I don't have the attention span for a book."
He twirls pasta on a fork. “You would if I read them to you."
I stare at him. He wants to read to me?
"What do you like to read? And do you like physical or eBooks?"
He looks sternly at me. "You broke the rules, Quinn."
The slight admonition sends a shiver down my spine.
“What rule did I break?”
“You asked two questions to my one."
"Ohh,” I say playfully. “So my new husband has a sense of justice."
The room chills when he gives me a look that reminds me that I met him because of his sense of justice. “You have no idea.”
