It’s a corner booth with a view of the whole restaurant on one side, and of Manhattan on the other.
“‘Reserved for you’?” Sima mouths as Marcello plucks two menus for us. “As in, it’salwaysavailable? In case you get peckish on short notice?”
I raise an eyebrow. Sima takes it for an answer and whistles quietly. “Wow. Maybe Iwillhave the caviar.”
“You heard the lady,” I tell Marcello once he returns. “Two rounds of seafood appetizers and a bottle of your finest white. What’s the pasta of the day?”
“Linguine allo scoglio,” he says, kissing the tips of his fingers for flair. “With clams fresh off the water.”
“Perfect.”
Once he’s gone, Sima eyes me curiously. “Did you just order for me?”
“Is that a problem?”
“I’m… not sure,” she admits, brow wrinkled in confusion. “I always thought I’d hate it if a guy did that.”
“And did you?”
She opens her mouth, but doesn’t reply right away. “I…” She clears her throat, looking anywhere but my face. A delicious flush colors her cheeks. “I guess I’m a fan of linguini. So you get off scot-free—this time.”
“I see.” Suddenly, pasta is the last thing I want. “Then you won’t mind this, either.”
I pull out her chair. She stares like it’s the first time this has ever happened to her. Which I suppose it is, considering last night’s confession that I’m her first.
Her first.The more I think about it, the hungrier it makes me feel.
She’s about to accept my gesture and sit down, when?—
“Petyr.” A male voice. Not as warm as Marcello’s but still cordial. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Thought you’d be on your honeymoon.”
I turn and see who spoke to me. “Serge.” I tilt my head slightly in greeting. “Duty calls, even to newlyweds.”
“Don’t I know that.” He fixes his gaze on Sima. “Apologies for missing the wedding. Like you said, duty often doesn’t care about one’s calendar.”
“Then allow me to introduce you to my wife…”Sima,I almost say before catching myself. “… Sammi.”
But when I look for Sima at my side, I find her halfway hidden behind me. Not overtly enough that Serge notices, but enough thatInotice.
“A pleasure,” he says gallantly, with a slight bow at the waist.
Sima nods. “L-Likewise.”
“I’ll let you get back to your dinner.” He smiles politely at us both. “Enjoy your night.”
Once he’s gone, I turn to Sima with a skeptical face. “What was that?”
“What?” she blurts defensively. “I’m not a people’s person. I get shy.” She crosses her arms. “Is that so hard to believe?”
Yes,I think but don’t say. Instead, I pull out her chair fully and let her settle in.
Serge Markov,pakhanof the Markov Bratva. I’m not aware of any ties between them and the Danilos, though. Sima was probably just spooked by him being Bratva at all.
Because she knows what he is. She definitely knows.
Our appetizers arrive. Sima bites into a caviar bruschetta and makes a face like she’s finally getting that orgasm I denied her an hour ago. “Oh. My.God. I am never going back to burgers.”
I bring a slice of sea bass carpaccio to my lips and smirk. “If you’re still hungry, we can stop by Burger King after.”
