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“I’m a little thirsty. Can I have some water?” she asks.
I nod, gesturing for a waiter to come forward. I inform him that the lady requires a cup of water before we order, and the waiter moves away, returning with a cup on a tray. He places it in front of Bianca but must have exerted too much force because some of it spills out of it and onto the table. Bianca lets out a shrill.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she yells, patting down at the front of her dress that barely got any water on it. “This is Dolce and Gabbana.”
I watch the scene quietly as the man fumbles out an apology. Another waiter arrives and apologizes as well before leading the first one away. I wait until they’re gone before speaking.
“Ugh, imbecile,” she mutters.
“It was just a mistake, the guy’s human. He should be afforded some respect.”
Bianca blinks, her expression almost comical. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I overreacted,” she says.
I frown at her quick acquiescence. When the waiter returns, she even apologizes. The apology is anything but sincere; it’s pretty clear she only did it to appeal to me.
“You should pick the wine,” she says, gesturing at the menu in front of me.
I shake my head. “You can pick.”
“No. I’d rather you picked.”
I clear my throat to shake off my irritation, reaching for the menu to order us the wine and subsequently the food we have. The entire evening is dull. Our topic of conversation flows from our families to her life growing up, which would be nice to talk about if she didn’t make her life sound perfect. As the third child of five, she’s always had everything she’s ever wanted. Her father dotes on all his kids. She’s also one of two daughters and she makes sure to stress on the fact that her father would do anything for her. Conversation also touches on some fashion shows she’s attended and the celebrity friends she has.
Bianca is perfectly compliant, obedient. On some level, I understand that it’s exactly the kind of behavior some men would like in their partner. But I grow even more uncomfortable over the evening.
It’s like she’s a robot. What’s even more frustrating is that I know she has more bite than she’s letting on. There’s intelligence hidden behind those brown eyes. She’s playing a role, and I’m not sure how to tell her to quit it. So I say nothing.
Once we’re done with the food, I lead her to her car. There’s a driver in front.
“Thank you for the meal, Roman. I enjoyed myself,” she informs me.
Really? Because I nearly died of boredom.
I keep that to myself. The thought of the marriage I’ve agreed to rings in my ears.
“I did as well. It’s always nice to spend time with you.”
When she smiles, I consider the night done. I open the back door to help her into the car but she turns to me, expression hesitant.
“Aren’t you going to give me a kiss to end the night?” she prompts.
The request catches me off guard but I don’t show it. I offer her a small smile of my own, leaning downward and placing a small kiss on her lips. The kiss is perfunctory at best. I feel nothing at the press of her lips against mine. No heat, no emotion. I haven’t felt anything with a woman in a year. Not since Elena.
When I pull back, Bianca’s looking at me like I hung the moon.
“Good night, Roman,” she breathes.
I nod, and once she’s seated inside the car, I shut the door. It isn’t until the car is out of sight that I let out a soft exhale. It’s not just about Bianca or our eventual marriage. Lately, I’ve found myself craving more. I’m just not sure what exactly that is. My duties as Don are going well. Business is thriving and my family’s finally in a good place. Everything is fine, and I’m fucking bored.
I’ve never been great at sitting still. And right now, it feels like my life has stagnated. I crave more action, more excitement. More something. I just don’t know what.
When my phone dings with a text as I’m on my way to my car, I realize it’s always good to be careful what you wish for. Because Elena Legan’s name flashes across my screen, and her text is four simple words—straight to the point.
We need to talk.
I pause, thinking about what she could possibly have to say to me. It takes a few seconds but I text back a reply.
When.
