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After handing me the cork, he sits, not across from me, but right next to me.
“Why do men always look so sexy when they talk about wine?” I ask, sniffing the cork myself. “I know it smells nice, but what else should I be expecting?”
His big and powerful hand gently takes the cork from mine and brings it close to my nose. I close my eyes, take another good whiff, and shrug.
“It still smells the same.”
He chuckles. “The smell reflects the taste. If it smells like rust, burns your nostrils, anything like that, something is wrong.”
“And how do I confirm the taste is like the smell?” I ask, cringing inside when my attempt to sound smart just ends up being a dumb question.
He takes my empty glass and pours some of the wine into it. It has a beautiful golden tint and smells like oranges and honey.
“Now, take in the aroma of the wine itself.” I swirl the glass and bring it to my nose. He continues, “Notice its color.”
“Golden. Like an Oscar award,” I laugh.
While pouring some wine for himself, he laughs too, and says, “Apt comparison. Now it’s time to taste it.”
He brings the glass to his lips, and I mimic his gesture — this wine is the most delicious liquid that has passed down my throat, almost an orgasm in the form of fermented grape juice.
My delight must show on my face because he smiles while looking at me with triumph.
“My God; this wine is amazing!” I say, looking at what’s left in my glass. “Where did you learn this much about wine?”
He shrugs. “Curiosity. And there are classes for it.”
“Nice!” I nod. “But with that Southern accent of yours, I had you pegged for a bourbon connoisseur.”
Looking at me deadpan, deeply into my eyes, he winks and says, “Bourbon doesn’t impress the ladies as much.”
I fall into a giggling fit, and see him smile again, reserved and collected, and mysterious and oh! That smile makes my heart do somersaults.
“Tell me…” I pull on the collar of his shirt, my body begging for a kiss, but finding him oblivious to my needs. “Tell me a little bit about you.”
His hand falls over mine and squeezes it gently, making my heart melt like butter.
“There isn’t much to say,” he says, strumming the skin of my hand like a sweet flute. “This…Friend’s brotherof yours… we work in the same industry.”
“Oh…” I fan myself. “Another billionaire?”
He bobs his head around, smiling with modesty. “You can say that.”
I look at him, and he looks at me with adoration, but I’m still unsure how to feel about him or what his intentions are. He’s hard to read.
Taking another one of my dumb moments of boldness, I launch myself into his arms and kiss him with all I have.
However, he doesn’t respond to it at all.
Instead, he gently pushes me back into my seat, and looks at me like a father figure. His lips move silently, as if rehearsing words to say, but with no sound.
“Did I do something wrong?” I recoil into my insignificance, wrapping my arms around my body and keeping my eyes low.
“You did nothing wrong, sweetheart.” He keeps on smiling his mysterious smile. “I would just prefer to wait for another day for it to happen. I don’t even know your name yet!”
Once again, he chuckles. I shake my head, realizing he has a point, and I feel like a fool. “I don’t know your name either.”
He opens his mouth to say it, but Bella’s voice chimes in instead:
