She rolls them.
"Seriously?" She gestures at the vacant tables. "The entire place?"
I cross the room, my hand finding the curve of her waist like it belongs there. Like it's always belonged there.
"What bothers you, solnyshko?"
"We can exist in the same space as other people, Dmitri." She tilts her head back to meet my gaze. "Normal couples do it all the time. They sit in restaurants surrounded by strangers and somehow manage to have conversations without dying."
"What's the point?"
"The point is?—"
"You're the only one who matters." I pull her closer. "Everyone else is noise. Distraction. I haven't seen you in three days. I need you just for my eyes right now."
She laughs.
I love this sound.
"You're ridiculous." She pushes against my chest, and I let her create distance between us. "And I'm starving. Feed me before I start gnawing on the furniture."
I guide her to the table I selected. Center of the room. Best view of the koi pond through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Two glasses of water already poured.
She slides into her seat with the grace of someone born to occupy spaces like this. I take the chair across from her, close enough that our knees brush under the table.
A server appears instantly, placing leather-bound menus before us. Vittoria reaches for hers, but I catch her wrist.
"Order for me."
Her eyebrows rise. "What?"
"You know this place. You love it. Order for both of us."
"You don't even know what you like here."
"I know I like watching you taking care of me." I release her wrist, letting my fingers trail across her palm. "Show me what's good."
She opens the menu, scanning the options like a general surveying a battlefield.
"Do you have any allergies I should know about?"
"None."
"Texture preferences? Things you won't eat?"
"I'll eat anything you put in front of me."
Her lips curve. "Dangerous promise."
"I'm a dangerous man."
She ignores me, turning her attention fully to the menu. I watch her face as she reads. The slight furrow between her brows when she considers an option. The way she bites her lower lip when she's thinking. The small nod she gives herself when she makes a decision.
The server returns.
Vittoria doesn't look up from the menu. "We'll start with the omakase appetizer selection. Then the black cod with miso. Two portions, different preparations if the chef is willing. The wagyu tataki, medium rare. Uni with quail egg. The lobster tempura, and..." She pauses, glancing at me. "Do you like spice?"
"Yes."
