Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Theo parked the Range Rover, and then we entered the restaurant. We were given the same table as last time, and just like last time, no one came over until he motioned for them to.
He ordered a scotch and let me order whatever I wanted.
“I’ll take the Bordeaux—Barsetti Vineyards.”
The waiter walked away.
He sat with one arm resting on the table, his shirt tight on his muscular arm. It was a cold winter night, so I’d worn my coat, but he was so muscular that he was probably hot, even when the temperature was in the forties.
He looked out the window for a moment, and when he caught my stare, he shifted his gaze to me.
“Why do the waiters wait for you to signal to them?”
“Because this is my restaurant.”
“Oh…” Good thing I’d only given compliments. “Do you like to cook?”
“I don’t know shit about food. I just bought a couple places to wash my money…among other things.”
I wondered what those other things were. “I’m glad we came back so I could try something else.”
The waiter returned with the drinks. He poured me a glass of wine and left the bottle behind.
“You like their wine?” He glanced at the bottle between us.
“I love it. Why?”
“Do you know the Barsetti Family?”
“No. Do you?”
“I know Crow. He’s the one who started the winery. Bought it to wash his money.”
“Whatever the reason he bought it, I love it.” I picked up the glass and took a drink.
“I like that about you.”
“That I like wine?”
“That you know my world.”
“I wouldn’t say I know it…” Just seen it indirectly, at dinners and galas, late nights with Bolton’s men.
“But you’re aware of it—and unafraid of it.”
I had no reason to be afraid of it. Bolton’s immoral work never affected my life. He hid his trail well, so it never came back to me. He had several different names, so our marriage license was tied to one of those aliases. Our properties had been bought under other names and identities. I wasn’t sure how he kept track of all of it. “What do most women think when you tell them?”
“I don’t.”
“Then how do you meet them?”
“I pay them.” He grabbed his scotch and took a drink.
“You sleep with prostitutes?”
“Escorts. There’s a big difference.”
“There is?”
“An escort is an exceptionally beautiful woman who charges a fortune for her time. Her livelihood is dependent on her health—so they’re clean. It’s one of the things you’re paying for.”
I wasn’t sure if I should be concerned that he openly paid for sex…or respect his honesty about it.
“That bothers you.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“I can tell it does. But I’m not going to lie about it.”
“Are those the only kinds of women you sleep with?”
“No. I meet women when I’m out. In a bar. At an event. Wherever.”
“And it doesn’t bother them that you pay for sex?”
He stared at me across the table, not showing his annoyance even though he must have felt it. “Those are one-night fucks. Not much talking going on. I always wear a condom, so where my dick has been before them is none of their concern.”
I continued to stare at him, picturing him throwing a wad of bills at a woman in a hotel room. “So, you don’t have relationships?”
His answer was immediate. “No.”
“When was the last time you were in one?”
He grabbed his glass and took another drink. “This feels like an interrogation.”
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I just…want to know you more.” Neither one of us had expected to spend so much time together, so all the basic and inconsequential information had already been discovered. That left the important stuff, the deep stuff.
“Have long have you been married?”
“I said I didn’t want to talk about him.”
“And I didn’t ask about him.”
I knew if I wanted him to answer my question, I had to answer his. He was a master of conversation, controlling the temperature because he was the thermostat. “Two years. We’ve been together for three.”
He didn’t react. Didn’t voice the thought that was probably in his head—that you shouldn’t want an open marriage after just two years of matrimony. Whatever he thought, he kept it to himself. “I was in a relationship ten years ago.” He gestured to the waiter who’d been standing on the other side of the room waiting for the signal. Theo clearly wanted to change the subject because he looked at his menu. “Chicken marsala.”
I hadn’t looked at the menu, but I found something at a quick glance. “I’ll do the cheese ravioli with red sauce.”
The waiter took the menus and walked away.
I didn’t press Theo on the topic. It had red tape all over it. “I can tell you don’t want to talk about it, so I won’t pry. But if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.”