His eyes line with mine, dark gaze lingering, like he meant to say something else.
But of course he didn’t. I’m only his assistant. Nothing more.
The chef offers a polite greeting, describes the seven-course meal, and pours us each a glass of wine, before slipping out of view. I’m almost tempted to have a taste, but I won’t. I’ll never go down that hill. It’s not worth it.
I lift my glass of ice water, taking a slow sip.
“Shame I don’t drink. Seems like it’s allowed on the job.” A teasing grin flashes over my lips.
His laugh is low and warm, feathering over me like a ghost. “That’s alright.” His fingers graze mine from across the table. “You’ll find there are other perks to working for me.”
“Perk. Is that what we’re calling it these days?”
His gaze pins me. “Life’s too short not to enjoy it, Ms. Monroe.”He draws his hand back, eyes distant for a beat. “We’re all a ticking time bomb, one way or another.”
The air shifts. It’s the way he says it, like he’s already seen his own death.
I shouldn’t care. But something unsettling takes root in my chest.
I start to wonder what his childhood was like. I know his mother died when he was very young and his father was a psychopath, but did his father ever love him? Did he feel an ounce of the affection I was never given as a child?
And why do I suddenly feel sad?
Fuck, Emilia. Stop it. Don’t humanize him. Focus on the important things. Like keeping your identity intact so he doesn’t chop you up into little pieces for his piggies to enjoy.
I wonder if I’ll ever meet them. I bet they’re cute.
A server approaches with the first course, interrupting my thoughts. When I pick up my fork and take a bite, Konstantin watches me intensely, like his life depends on it.
“It’s really good.”
He laughs, the sound like a mixture of whiskey and a slow-burning fire, warming me from the inside. “You sound surprised.”
I shrug. “I’m a simple girl. I’ve never done fancy.”
Because I couldn’t afford a simple meal growing up, let alone one like this.
“If you’d prefer something less ornate, I can make that happen next time.”
“Next time? You plan on taking me out for lunch on a regular basis?”
His mouth thins, but he doesn’t answer me as he starts to eat. Watching him, I wonder what he wants from me exactly.
Is this just about sex? Probably.
According to everything I’ve found on him, he’s never had a girlfriend. Not one. Which is strange, considering the women in hisworld wouldn’t bat an eye at what he does for a living.
As we finish our first course, the second is brought out.
I won’t lie, I could get used to this. When I pop a piece of tender steak into my mouth, I practically moan, and his features grow with satisfaction.
“I’m happy to see you enjoying yourself, Ms. Monroe.”
As I’m about to respond, a woman’s heels click against the stone terrace, blue eyes staring right at Konstantin, not trying to hide how much she likes him.
She’s tall. Elegant. Blonde. Exactly the kind of woman I’d picture him with.
You don’t stand a chance.
