Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29349 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“You…you shouldn’t… This is too much,” she whispers, but her fingers are already tracing the sparkling jewels and the delicate chain.
“You deserve it. You deserve everything, Rose. If you asked me for the devil’s own pitchfork, I’d get it for you, you have to believe that.”
“I…I do believe—”
“Mr. Volos, what a pleasure to see you again,” the maitre d’ says as the family before us is led to their table by a waiter. “Table for two, I assume?”
“Private room,” I tell him, not sure I can sit there with all these eyes on her. This was a bad idea. I should have cooked for her at home.
“I’m afraid the private room is currently occupied. I—”
“Unoccupy it.” I swear under my breath. There’s a man at a table in the corner, his girlfriend just got up to go to the bathroom and he’s looking our way. If I see his eyes so much as slide over Cassandra, I won’t be responsible for my actions. “Now,” I demand.
“I’m sorry sir, I can’t just—”
“Where’s Fred?”
“Mr. Dolce is busy right now,” the maitre d’ says through gritted teeth. “And he’ll tell you exactly the same thing. We’re willing to accommodate you but if you want the private room I’m afraid you do need to book in advance.”
“Listen here, you little…”
“Apollo! My oldest, dearest friend!” Frederico is suddenly there, just as I’m about to tear this guy’s balls off, laughing as he smiles around at the people at other tables. “Theo, I’ll take things from here.”
“Mr. Dolce, I was just explaining to—”
“I heard, I heard. Don’t worry, please just go back to your job, Theo. Apollo, it’s wonderful to see you. Will you follow me?”
I glare at Theo until he drops his gaze. The little punk is lucky that’s all I do. Then I turn to Fred. “Private room,” I say simply.
“Really, it’s fine, we can just…” Cassandra falls silent as I grip her tighter.
“Private room.”
Fred nods, still smiling. “Of course, anything for you. The usual private room would be yours under any other circumstances, but I have my office behind the kitchen and I’d be happy to get you set up in there. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at how comfortable we can make it. If that’s agreeable?”
“Fine,” I say, and follow him past the tables of people pretending to be having their own conversations. I don’t give a fuck about any of them, I just need to get her out of their sight.
As soon as we’re through the doors into the kitchen, it’s like I can finally breathe again. The staff are all occupied with their own things, and I guide Cassandra by the small of her back, right through past them and to the office where Fred’s previous “business partners” finally listened to sense and relinquished their claim on his business five years ago.
It’s not a large space, but as we enter one of the wait staff is just leaving, and an intimate round table has been placed in the center, with Fred’s desk moved off to the side. A candle has been lit in the middle of the table, and a single rose in a small vase.
“Please, sit and take a look through the menu. I’ll serve you myself tonight. I can personally recommend the wild mushroom risotto.”
Fred moves forward to pull Cassandra’s chair out for her, but I shoulder him out of the way and do it myself.
“We’ll have one of everything,” I say as I help her into her seat. “And a bottle of your best wine.”
Two hours later, I know more about Cassandra’s life, and she knows more about mine, than I expect either one of us intended to let slip. I’ve learned far more about her here than I did from breaking into her apartment a few days ago. That was clean, clinical. I took note of her shampoo and perfume, of course, so that I could make sure I had the same ones at home, but otherwise it was impersonal. A ridiculous number of little black dresses, all hung up in her wardrobe. No photographs of anyone in her life. No hobbies.
But now, apart from the stuff about the FBI, which obviously was completely absent, I think she’s being honest with me. I know that her dad was in the same line of work as her. I assume he was an agent, even though she made out like he was a florist. I know that flowers are pretty much her life, and I think that was the truth. There was a sadness in her eyes like she wishes it wasn’t all a lie. I didn’t like that, but it makes me hopeful that she isn’t just stringing me along, that there’s more here, that she wants what I want and just doesn’t know how to take it.