"It's barely ten. Stay." I caught the waiter's attention. "Grappa. Two glasses."
"I've had enough to drink."
"One more won't hurt. Unless you don't trust yourself around me when you're relaxed?" I smiled slightly. "Is that it, Emilio? You're afraid of what you might do if you let your guard down?"
"I'm afraid of what you might do."
"I would never do anything you didn't want me to do." I accepted the grappa from the waiter and slid one glass to Emilio. "But I think we both know that's not actually what you're afraid of. You're afraid you'll want me to do things you know you shouldn't want."
He picked up the grappa and downed it in one swallow instead of sipping. "You're very sure of yourself."
"I'm very good at reading people. It's a necessary skill in my world." I sipped my own grappa slowly. "You've been hard since the oysters. Trying to hide it, but I noticed. The way you shifted in your seat. The way you crossed your legs. All very subtle, but I pay attention to details."
Color flooded his face. "Jesus Christ."
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Attraction is involuntary. What we do about it is choice." I set down my glass. "I'd like to take you somewhere private. Not for sex—you're not ready for that yet. But somewhere we can talk without an audience. Somewhere you can stop performing and just be honest about what you want."
"And where is that?"
"My penthouse. Ten minutes from here. We'll talk. Have another drink. See where the conversation goes." I leaned forward. "No pressure. No expectations. Just two people getting to know each other without pretense."
"That's a terrible idea."
"Probably. But you're going to say yes anyway. Come home with me, Emilio. Let me show you what it's like to stop running from what you want."
He should have refused. Should have insisted on going home alone, maintaining boundaries, all the things his professional ethics demanded. I could see him running through the arguments, weighing the risks.
But I could also see the moment he decided to say yes.
"Just talking," he said finally. "Nothing else."
"Just talking," I agreed, lying smoothly.
We both knew where this was heading. The only question was how long he'd pretend otherwise.
Thomas was waiting with the car when we exited the restaurant. Emilio hesitated before getting in, one last chance to change his mind and choose safety over curiosity.
He got in.
I slid into the seat beside him, close enough that our thighs touched. He didn't move away. Progress.
The drive to my penthouse took eight minutes. Emilio spent them staring out the window, hands clasped in his lap, breathingtoo carefully. Building up courage or talking himself out of what came next. Possibly both.
"Relax," I said quietly. "I meant what I said. No pressure. No expectations."
"You say that, but everything about this has expectations built into it." He finally looked at me. "You bought me an expensive dinner. You're taking me to your home. You've been touching me all evening in ways that are deliberately intimate. This isn't just talking."
"You're right. It's seduction. I'm seducing you." I touched his face, just my fingertips against his jaw. Watched his eyes close briefly. "But seduction only works if both parties want it. Do you want this, Emilio?"
"I don't know." His voice was barely audible. "I should say no. Should get out of this car and go home and pretend tonight never happened."
"But you won't."
"No. I won't." He opened his eyes. "Because you're right. I want to see where this goes. Even if it destroys me."
"I won't destroy you." I traced his lower lip with my thumb. Felt him tremble. "I'm going to build you into something better than what you are now. Stronger. More confident. Exactly what you were meant to be."
"That sounds like destruction with better marketing."
