He rose, then held her chair with one hand, the other hovering by her elbow as she turned, using the table as a crutch to take a step before sinking down into her chair.
He glanced at the sideboard. “Shall I open the wine?”
“Yes, please.”
With admirable efficiency, he opened the bottle, bringing the bucket over to the table so once he’d poured them each a glass, he tucked the wine back into the ice and sat across from her.
“Can I ask how you hurt your leg? I’m not sure if that’s a question too personal for me to ask my admiral.”
“Considering my unintentionally sexual punishment question…” She shook her head in only-partially pretended embarrassment. “I think it’s reasonable.”
His grin flashed, teeth white against the dark beard. “What happened to your leg?”
“I got caught on something in the garden,” she said carefully. “Fractured my leg, and I had some deep cuts too.”
He winced sympathetically as he took a sip of wine. One brow was slightly raised, inviting her to go on. He was clearly curious about the specifics, but when she didn’t volunteer more information, he didn’t press.
Nikolett smoothed her palms along her thighs, wondering where the food was, because it would be nice to have something to do with her hands. A quick glance at the door proved she couldn’t will someone to interrupt.
Time to be direct and get down to business.
“Did the vice admiral tell you this meeting was to discuss a trinity marriage?”
“Implied. As I said, I also thought I might have been in need of punishment.” He grinned as she laughed softly. “But the fact it was dinner led me to think it might be less formal, and since I’m not yet in a trinity…” He shrugged.
“A reasonable assumption.”
“Am I correct?”
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Have you selected a trinity for me?” His gaze slid away from her, glancing around the room.
“No,” Nikolett said simply, freshly self-conscious about the overly romantic atmosphere.
The door opened and Maxim and Grigoris entered, Grigoris with a tray on his shoulder. Grigoris had slicked back his hair and wore thick-framed glasses. Those plus keeping his head bentand changing his walk was enough to have her double-checking it was him. Apparently Grigoris was undercover as their server.
Grigoris unfolded a tray stand with one hand and set down the tray.
“Good evening, Admiral, Mr. Petrescu. Tonight we start with prawns on a carrot, basil, mint, ginger, and micro herb salad.” Maxim set the small salad plates down with precise efficiency. Two beautifully grilled prawns rested on top of a bed of bright salad.
“Thank you,” she murmured, as if this were a totally normal evening, and she wasn’t shocked to her core by how beautiful the meal was. She had no idea Maxim was this talented.
If she didn’t desperately need him as a harco, she would have released him from his position and made sure he got interviews at all the best restaurants.
Maxim inclined his head to both of them before he and Grigoris retreated.
For the first time, Laszlo looked unsure. Maybe he thought that this was how she ate every night—surrounded by candlelight and fresh flowers, with a chef delivering her meals.
“Tell me about your conservation work,” Nikolett said as she picked up a fork.
In between bites, Laszlo described the Eastern Carpathian Mountains. He was unexpectedly poetic in the way he spoke about primeval forests full of bears and lynx. When he went on to talk about the damage done by unregulated and illegal industries, his eyes flashed, once more reminding her of a wolf.
“Have you ever been to the Eastern Carpathians?” Laszlo asked after Maxim brought in the second course—Sterlet with fennel, mangold, and smoked butter.
She had been to the Eastern Carpathians once to visit an artist who made beautiful religious pieces. It was a story she didn’t want to share with Laszlo. It was a story she didn’t sharewith anyone. Most of the stories from before she went to college weren’t things she shared.
“Are sterlet endangered?” She pointed to the fish on her plate. “My…chef is very conscientious, but might not always have the most up-to-date information.”
