I place my hand gently on his, giving it a soft squeeze. It feels like a bold move on my part, but I want to show him that I’m here for him, without pressuring him. He responds to my gesture, his thumb gently brushing over my hand. The tension between us is back immediately, if it ever left. It feels like he’s not just caressing my hand, and I bite my lip, looking down at our hands, dreaming of his touch on other parts of my body.
I snap back to reality when the waiter arrives with a new dish. Dessert is served, and the moment is broken. For a second, I feel a hint of annoyance at the interruption, but as I look at the colorful plate of sweets in front of me, I decide it’s almost as delicious as Andreas. A scoop of basil ice cream, a pistachio brownie, a limoncello mousse, something I have no idea what it is but looks divine, alongside fresh fruit and a few thick drops of raspberry coulis—it looks heavenly.
“A fan of desserts, Nora? I’ll have to remember that,” Andreas says, as if he caught me red-handed, his amused gaze on me once again.
“Absolutely! In fact, I’m the president of the fan club.”
I take my first bite and decide to savor this very slowly. I can’t help myself and challenge Andreas by letting out an innocent moan as the ice cream melts on my tongue. My eyes are closed, but I feel him watching me. This sensation is entirely new to me—me, the seductress, holding all the power. I can’t recall the last time I had this kind of effect on a man. I feel sexy and desirable, wanted, and special. I open my eyes and see Andreas looking at me with hunger in his gaze, his dessert untouched.
“If you’re going to eat every bite like that, Nora, I’ll ask for the bill right now and carry you over my shoulder to my place,” he says dead serious, his voice low and rough, rasping over my skin.
Oh, God. I choke on the ice cream; he’s so blunt. I cough a few times to clear my throat. Now I look a little less sexy, fantastic. Well done, Nora. I wonder how many women Andreas has looked at with that desiring gaze or carried over his shoulder to his bed. He makes me feel special, but I’m not naive enough to think I’m the only one. In fact, if my suspicion is correct, Andreas has had a lot of women. That thought sends a cold shiver down my spine. Earlier in the evening, he dodged my question about how many dates he’s brought here, and somewhere deep down, I’d rather avoid this topic altogether. But our dinner won’t last much longer, and I want to know where I stand.
“Do you do that often? Carry women over your shoulder to your place?” I look serious, hoping he senses this question isn’t meant as a joke. I want to know what kind of man he is.
“There have been women, but never at my place and never for long. I don’t do the whole house, garden, picket fence thing, and most women eventually want that. Either that or they’re after my money,” he snaps bitterly.
I can’t say I’m really surprised by his statement. It perfectly matches my first impression of Andreas. Still, I can’t deny that it stings to hear it now. After spending the whole evening talking and connecting, it felt like there might be more between us than just the physical. Although I’m disappointed and hurt when it comes to love, I’m someone who ultimately wants that house, garden, picket fence life. Maybe it’s not meant for me, but I still want it.
I’m immediately brought back down to earth. I can’t let myself get carried away or hope for a fairy tale. If a man like Andreas wants something from me, it’s nothing more than sex. I try to take it as a compliment rather than an insult, but it’s not easy. I’m tempted to ask why he’s even out with me if he’s not into commitment. Who does he think I am? A willing plaything? My body might ache for his, but I won’t give it away so easily. I consider myself worth more than a one-night stand, but since I’m still not entirely sure of my own feelings toward Andreas, I decide not to ask. Anna advised me not to get my hopes up and to approach this with the same hedonistic mindset as Andreas, just enjoying the moment. I don’t know why, but maybe I just don’t believe him, so I choose not to confront him, and retract my claws.
“Did you just buy the house, picket fence and all, just for yourself then?” I ask sweetly enough.
“Something like that, I guess.” He’s clearly agitated and uncomfortable.
“Why do you think family happiness is off the table for you? Why couldn’t it be?”
“Are you sure a family is the definition of happiness, Nora?” he snaps at me.
I bite back. “I think so, yes. Being with someone you love, starting a family together, that seems like the ultimate happiness in life. I’m not saying it’s the only path to happiness or that you can’t be happy in other ways, because you certainly can, but if you ask me, that’s what I ultimately want in life. If I come across it, I won’t let it go.”
With my romantic monologue, I’ve probably reduced the chances of a hot night with Andreas to zero, but I don’t care. This is who I am and what I ultimately want. His eyes burn with anger. His hands grip his silverware tightly, and yet I don’t see his attack coming.
“How can you be so naive in life after everything you’ve been through? Parents who never gave you that family happiness, a lover who cheated on you, and yet you still believe in fairy tales?” he sneers.
Excuse me? I don’t know what I’m hearing. I’m in shock and spontaneously drop the dessert spoon from my hand. It clatters onto my plate, splattering raspberry coulis onto my new white blouse. I curse and push my chair back, reflexively grabbing for the napkin, but in doing so, the spoon falls to the floor completely. I feel the eyes of the entire restaurant on me. If I weren’t so angry at Andreas, I’d be embarrassed right now. The waiter is quick to offer me a new spoon and pick up the dirty one. I thank him and slide my chair back. I try to come up with a witty retort, but my thoughts are all over the place.
“I’m sorry, Nora, that wasn’t fair of me. I let myself…”
“Stop, Andreas, you said what you said. You know, if I’m naive, then you’re a coward! You’re ignoring all my questions again and deflecting everything back to me. You’re such a hypocrite. I don’t know what you’ve been through to be so cold, but leave my past out of it. I’m not going to apologize for my belief in love and happiness. And where the hell did you get all that information about me?” With that last sentence, I hit the highest pitch of the evening.
“I’m sorry, Nora, truly. You have every right to believe in love and happiness, I wish I could too. That came from a place of frustration and anger. I had no right to take it out on you. I hope you can forgive me?” he says remorsefully.
“Where did you get that information, Andreas?” I’m starting to lose my patience.
“I have all my business partners screened before I work with them. I needed to know if I could trust you.”
Now I’m his business partner again. Nice try.
“You needed to know if you could trust me? The irony, Andreas. To know if I’m a good real estate agent, you don’t need to dig into my childhood or love life! What else do you know about me? And how on earth did you find out about that? No one knows about that!” I try to lower my voice to avoid making a scene in the restaurant, but I’m not particularly successful, and a few irritated but curious glances are directed my way.
“Eric, my head of security, does all the research. He’s good, Nora, he finds every trace online. And sometimes you just put two and two together. I assumed David had cheated on you. He didn’t deserve you, Nora.” I can’t believe my ears.
“And you do?” I scoff.
As attractive as Andreas is, seducing a woman is another thing entirely, and right now, he’s failing spectacularly.
“No, I don’t either.” I see regret in his eyes and tiny beads of sweat on his forehead as he fidgets with his napkin and rearranges everything on the table. “Not at all,” he mutters again.
