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“Thank you,” I say when Catarina places my glass next to my plate, once again filling my nostrils with her enticing floral scent.
“You’re welcome.” She sits at the only other place setting, placing her directly across from me. I’m sure she thought putting the table between us was a good idea, but now I have an unobstructed view of her beautiful face and every emotion that is bound to cross it throughout the meal. It’s a win for me.
Don’t intimidate her, you fool.
I heed my inner voice and keep my eyes off my stunning fiancée as I serve her a scoop of pasta primavera before serving myself. Then, I hold out the plate of bread. “Would you like one?”
“Yes, thank you.” She grabs a piece and sets it on her plate, then unfolds her linen napkin and places it on her lap.
I turn my attention to my plate and take a bite. Minutes of companionable silence pass, allowing some of her earlier nerves to dissipate, before I attempt to make conversation.
“So, tell me. Is Bella Donna working on any new pieces lately?” I mention her artistic alias. It still baffles me that I’ve found myself engaged to the woman behind the stunning sculptures I admire, but I had no idea until a few short weeks ago.
Catarina swallows a bite of food before answering, “Unfortunately, no. I’ve been preoccupied with commissions and haven’t had time to design anything for fun.”
“What are the commissions?”
She tells me about the pieces she’s working on and what stage of creation they’re at. Swans and princess carriages don’t seem like my cup of tea, but I have no doubt the sculptures will be stunning. I’ve yet to see a Bella Donna piece that didn’t impress me with its attention to detail and vibrant colors and designs.
She pushes a piece of bowtie pasta across her plate. “If I’m being honest, I’m not inspired by the commission requests I’ve received lately.”
“Then don’t accept them.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“The art world is cutthroat and has a short memory. Until I have enough pieces to display in another show, commissions are the only way to keep my name alive.”
“But how will you be able to create enough pieces for another show if all your time is spent working on custom pieces?”
She sighs. “I know you’re right. It’s just hard. I don’t want to lose relevance, but I know I need to stop accepting commissions.” I watch as she eats her food, wondering if I should voice my next thought. I’m not one to restrain myself, but I tell myself to hold off. At least until dinner is finished.
The conversation remains light as we finish our meal. When Catarina finishes her wine, I go to the kitchen to retrieve the bottle and pour us fresh glasses.
“Thank you.” Catarina gives me a soft smile that makes the organ in my chest tighten. “Dinner was wonderful.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“Where did you learn to cook?” She sips her wine as she watches me. I silently thank the alcohol for helping put my reserved fiancée at ease. I always enjoy her company, but it’s always easier when she lets her guard down. Even if it’s just a little bit.
“My grandfather’s housekeeper doubled as his cook when I was growing up,” I answer, leaning back in my chair and swirling the wine in my glass as memories of my upbringing rush to the front of my mind. “She let me help her cook whenever I wandered into the kitchen.”
“That sounds nice.”
Catarina’s gaze softens. “It was.” I sip the wine. “Do you cook?”
“A little, but I’m not very good.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
She chuckles. “I’ll cook next time and let you see for yourself.”
Smiling, I say, “I’d like that. I’ll refrain from firing our cook until I gauge your skills.”
She snorts. “If you were expecting me to take on the role of a domestic wife who cooks and cleans, I can guarantee you’ll be disappointed.”
It’s my turn to chuckle. “Trust me, I have no such expectation. The only traditional task I hope you’ll be agreeable to is having children one day. But don’t worry, I remember our deal. I’ll wait five years.” I wink, and it takes everything I have not to laugh when I see how red her face is. Her modesty is charming but also surprising. Especially considering we’ve already slept together.
