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The explosion of yummy flavor almost makes me moan in pleasure. It’s like someone took the best qualities of chicken and fish and mixed them together.
He watches me intently.
“It’s good,” I say as soon as I can speak again. “I never exactly liked frogs, face to face that is, and wouldn’t pet one, but I guess I can eat them.”
And they’re not as gross as snail eggs, that’s for sure.
He nods. “I wouldn’t pet a sea urchin, but they are delicious.”
“Makes sense. Next time, I might just get an order of these.”
“You should. Also, if you like French-inspired cuisine, you might enjoy the fare at my parents’ restaurant. Speaking of…” He rubs the stubble on his chin. “Remember that party my brother invited you to?”
“The 1000 Devils’ anniversary?”
“That’s the one. It’s tonight, and my family has been pestering me to go.”
I blink. “So go. They’re your family.”
His gaze is intent on my face. “Would you join me? My brother did want you there, remember?”
“I think he wanted me to bring you, not the other way around.” I sneak a worried glance at the more dubious items on his plate.
“The food will be much less exotic than here,” he says, discerning my concern. “The most unusual thing on my parents’ menu is probably caviar. Regular black caviar, that is—and you don’t have to eat it.”
Is he asking me out on a date?
No. His brother invited me first.
Still. This sounds fancy. And it’s Vlad who’s now pushing me to go.
His lips curve into another wicked smile. “How about we make another deal? I will go only if you go with me.”
“Hey. That’s not fair. That’s like some weird emotional blackmail.”
He cocks his head. “You’re not the only one who can play hardball.”
“But… tonight?” I frantically glance down at my work outfit. “I don’t have anything fancy to wear.”
“How about I get you something?”
“I’m not sure—”
“If you don’t like the clothes, you can opt not to go.”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose. “You’re pushy.”
His eyes gleam. “I go for what I want.”
My throat suddenly feels dry, so I sip my water.
“Come on,” he says. “Yes or no?”
“Maybe,” I say, figuring I can always flake because of the outfit. “Now, can we please talk about something else?”
He looks satisfied, smug even. I guess he’s decided I’m going. “Well… there was an interesting computational problem today. Want to hear about it?”
Huh. Does he know about my interest in transferring to the development department? Could be. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on the same mailing list as the rest of them—and could’ve seen Sandra’s email about my ambitions.
