I’d made sure he ate today, but I’d forgotten to feed myself. A sandwich at noon, a protein bar at three. That was it.
He gestured toward the bread. “Go ahead.”
I tore off a piece, dipped it into the oil, careful not to make a mess as I brought it to my mouth. The bread was soft, warm, and just the right type of crisp on the crust. God, it tasted heavenly.
“You’ll like this,” he said quietly as he poured half a glass of the deep red wine before he poured his own. “It’s my favorite Bordeaux.”
I lifted the glass and hesitated. The wine was dark and elegant in the light, a lot like the man I sat across from. I sniffed it, buying time. What would he do if I declined? Should I? Could I? Was drinking with my boss a good idea? This wasn’t a date. This was the man who wrote my paychecks.
Would saying no make me seem ungrateful?
I took a small sip, the rich velvety flavor sliding down my throat as I closed my eyes. Something my sessions with Master had taught me was that when I shut out one sense, the others got stronger. Damn, that was good.
When I opened my eyes again, he was watching me.
“What’s going through that head of yours?” he asked, quiet enough, I wasn’t sure he meant to say it aloud.
I swallowed, my heart racing. “Just…trying to figure out the rules,” I admitted, the truth slipping out before I could stop myself.
His mouth curved into a smirk. “There aren’t any. Not tonight.”
He’d never smiled at me before, not really, but this was close. The faint lift of his mouth, the spark in his green eyes under the candlelight.
Before I could decide what to do with that, Hannah returned and set a small charcuterie plate between us.
“What can I get you tonight?”
“Two specials.” Then he glanced at me. “Unless you prefer something else?”
I shook my head. I hadn’t even seen a menu, but honestly, the sooner we ordered, the sooner I could go home and overanalyze this entire night in peace.
“Perfect,” he said, handing her the menus we never opened.
She smiled, jotting it down before slipping away toward the kitchen.
I reached for a slice of cheese—more for something to do than out of any real hunger. “You didn’t even ask what the special was.”
He looked up from his wine, expression unreadable. “I didn’t need to.”
“Trust issues much?” I muttered, mostly to myself.
His lips twitched, the faintest hint of amusement. “You’ll like it.”
That shouldn’t have sounded like a promise. But it did.
Chapter 18
Sebastian
This was the place I escaped to after my days at the prep school my dad insisted I attend.
The kind of school where every kid had a legacy and every parent had an agenda except me. By the final bell, I’d be suffocating in pressed uniforms and expectations.
So I’d take the city bus, the one that rattled down Third Avenue and dropped me a few blocks from here. I’d walk the rest of the way, tugging at my tie, peeling off the version of myself my father tried to mold.
At Bastian’s, I could breathe. I didn’t have to pretend to want to join my father in the world of banking. Or pretend to be the man he wanted me to be.
Sometimes I helped in the kitchen, refilling waters, bussing tables, slicing bread while my grandfather told the same stories I never got tired of hearing. Other days, I’d sit in the back corner, this very table, spreading out my homework as the dinner rush moved around me.
