"Why not?" she challenges. "Because you're curious," I say, watching her carefully.
"About what?" she asks, though I can see the flicker of interest in her eyes.
"About me," I say simply.
She laughs. The sound bitter, sharp and humorless. "You think very highly of yourself."
"I think realistically," I correct.
"Yeah, he's Kookoo," she mutters. By the time the main course is finished and the waiter clears our plates, her entirebody language screams discomfort. Her face is practically a warning sign.
She snaps. "Mr. Ivanovich," she says, her voice smooth but edged with a warning that would send weaker men stumbling back. "I am one second away from breaking this wine bottle over your head. If I didn't know you'd catch my hand before it even got close, I would've done it already. So please, get on with whatever the hell this is supposed to be, or I'm going home."
I sigh, unable to help the small smile that crosses my face. God, she's fiery. "My, you hate my presence that much? I'm hurt."
She growls like a cornered animal.
I hold my hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. Message received." I signal to the waiter. The man comes over promptly, setting the file on the table beside her. She lights up. That spark in her eyes, the sheer anticipation... It almost makes me feel bad. Almost. As she reaches for it, I snatch it away. Her head snaps up.
"What. What. What again?" she hisses, loudly. Loud enough that a few diners turn to glance in our direction.
I lean back slowly, one brow raised, and take a slow sip of my wine. She's going to kill me. And yet, I can't help but grin.
"You promised," she says harshly. "You said you'd give me the file. Why are you changing your mind now?" twirling the edge of my wine glass between my fingers.
"I didn't go through all the trouble of betraying someone I was using, and now having to find a brand-new government puppet, for free. You've got to give me something in return."
She folds her arms. "You forget I don't have money."
I laugh softly, shaking my head. "Who's talking about money?" I lean in, catching her gaze. "Stop talking about money, angel. That's one thing I'd never take from you."
She scoffs at the nickname. "So, what do you want then?" I gesture to the waiter again. He returns with another box, beautifully wrapped. I slide it across the table to her.
"What's this?" she asks, suspiciously.
"Open it." She hesitates, then unwraps it carefully. Inside is a deep blue silk dress, elegant and expensive. Her eyes widen slightly. "There's an event coming up," I say. "In two weeks. I want you to come with me. As my date."
She stares at the dress, then at me. "You're bribing me with clothes now?"
"I'm inviting you," I correct. "The dress is a gift. Whether you come or not is up to you." I pause. "But I'd very much like you there."
She runs her fingers over the fabric, expression unreadable. "And if I say no?"
"Then I'll be disappointed," I say simply. "But you'll still keep the dress. And the file."
She narrows her eyes. "You're giving me the file either way?"
"No." I smirk. "Not quite yet." She glares at me. "A kiss," I say.
She blinks. "Just a kiss?"
I nod slowly. "Yeah. Just a kiss." She stands up from her chair, saunters over, and gives me the lightest brush of her lips on my cheek.
I look up at her, unamused.
"What was that?" I ask, already knowing the game she's playing.
"A kiss," she says smugly. "You didn't say what kind."
