Inside the bag is a tube of Urban Decay lipstick. It’s redder than the one I had on, but it’ll work. I fake glare at him. “You tricked me into ruining my makeup just to save the day, didn’t you?”
“Perhaps. But you look just as beautiful barefaced.” Eli holds up his phone, the camera focused on me. “Here is your magic mirror.”
I reapply my lipstick and pretend not to notice the way Eli stares hungrily at me, pretend it doesn’t make heat pool between my legs. When my lips are as glossy as they were before, I put the gold cap back on the tube. “Are we still going on our date?”
My voice comes out all silky, as though I’m teasing Eli. His dark brows shoot up and for a second, I think he’s going to pull me into his arms and kiss me again. Instead, he pushes open the limo door. “You’re too tempting for your own good, Miss Whitehall. Hold on to your new purse and let’s go.”
I step out of the limo and see a tiny restaurant dotted with fairy lights. The wide windows show a dozen beautiful people eating pasta in a warmly lit interior. The sight makes my insides shift. This place could have been pulled directly from my childhood fantasies of owning a restaurant.
Eli slides a hand around my waist. “Do you know where we are?”
I shake my head.
“I thought maybe you would, being such a gourmand. This is Argyle.”
I gasp. “My stepmom came here!”
Eli scowls. “Your stepmother is another topic we will avoid this evening.”
I nod. I don’t want to talk about her either.
A young host almost chokes at the sight of Eli. “Mr. Morelli, welcome, welcome. Please follow me to your table.”
He leads us to the dining room where the scent of roasting pork makes my mouth water. The wooden tables are even more cramped from inside the restaurant. Is it difficult for big people to eat without hitting everyone around them with their elbows? Adriano couldn’t do it. But to my surprise, we don’t stop at one of the tiny tables, but continue up a flight of narrow stairs into a separate room. It’s almost as large as the dining hall below but there’s just one table, laid for two.
Eli removes his jacket as the host pulls out my chair. I hover awkwardly, unsure what’s happening. Just beyond the room is a balcony covered in winding green vines and white roses, like something out of Romeo and Juliet.
“Sit, January,” Eli urges. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Um, sure?”
I take my chair as Eli sits across from me and turns to the waiter. “Please bring a bottle of Sangiovese Fresco.”
“Very good, Mr. Morelli.”
The host rushes away and Eli’s gaze finds mine. “Alone again,bella.”
With his dark hair shining in the candlelight, he reminds me of a panther, sleek and pretty. He looks like you could curl up into his side and cuddle him, but if you did, he’d eat you. I need to remember that.
“How come there’s no one else here?” I ask.
“Because I reserved a private dining room.”
I’ve never eaten in a private dining room. “Are we…? Do we order downstairs? Is there a menu?”
“No. At Argyle, you eat what they bring you. You don’t have to do anything but sit and look pretty.”
The host returns with the bottle of wine and a wooden board of warm bread and salted butter. He unfolds my napkin and lays it across my lap, and I feel Eli watching him closely. What would he do if the host touched my legs? Slap him? Demand that I come and sit in his lap instead? It seems like something he would do.
I think of the time he made me give him a blow job while he smoked a cigar, and the memory makes me shiver. After all I’ve been through, I shouldn’t be so attracted to danger and meanness, but it’s all I can think about. To distract myself, I sip my wine. It’s rich and dark and perfectly suited to the evening.
“Now,” Eli says when the host leaves again. “Tell me about your friends.”
I frown. “What friends?”
“Your bridesmaids, your cousins, your friends from school. Any of them. All of them.”
“W-why?”
