For a moment, we both go quiet as we browse the menu, but I still feel her gaze flickering up to me occasionally.
Then, almost like she can’t help herself, Elena takes a breath. “Why are you doing this?”
I don’t flinch at the question. “Because I need to keep an eye on you.”
“And how does dinner accomplish that?”
“Simple. It keeps you fed and visible to me,” I say, meeting her gaze.
She studies me, and something unreadable moves through her eyes, almost like she’s trying to determine if my tending to her needs is more self-serving than anything else. “You could’ve just ordered in.”
“Yeah, I could’ve,” I agree.
“But you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Her eyes narrow again. “Why?”
When I don’t answer, she notices and scoffs with a shake of her head, finally dropping it. “Whatever.”
After ordering with the waitress, we wait in relative silence, and the food eventually arrives. Even if the quiet stretches, it isn’t sharp or hostile. In a way, it starts to feel almost normal, like Elena is falling into a rhythm with me that she doesn’t even notice yet.
It’s almost unsettling.
Then, halfway through the meal, Elena takes a sip of her drink and looks at me. “We need to talk.”
Raising a brow at that, caught off guard by her sudden conviction, I hold back the urge to chuckle at her audacity. “Do we?”
“Yes,” she says without hesitation, lifting her chin just enough to be noticeable. “I have expectations.”
I consider what that could mean, still taken aback, but I lean back in the booth and cross my arms. “This should be good.”
Elena shoots me a look. “I’m serious.”
“I can tell.”
She straightens her back, almost like assuming her usual poised posture. She’s the picture of control now, as if the Lukov genes have slid back into place again while she threads her fingers together against the table. “Regardless of whatever arrangement you think we’re in, there are things I won’t tolerate.”
Holding her gaze, I sigh to myself and gesture vaguely towards her. “Go on.”
“First, you don’t touch me without permission,” she says, straight to the point. “Not in private, and not in public either.”
“That’s already the case.”
She gives me a scrutinizing look. “Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Then stop looming every time we go somewhere,” she utters before pulling in another breath and continuing. “You also can’t threaten me just to get compliance, you don’t get to use my family against me, and you can’t lie to me.”
“That’s a tall order.”
Her eyes narrow again, silently scolding me to be serious. “Wyatt.”
The way she says my name, sharp but with more conviction than usual, catches me off guard. I sigh. “Fine. Within reason.”
She holds my gaze, likely gauging how truthful I’m being, then she relaxes her shoulders just a tad. “I also need clothes of my own and things to keep me occupied. I’m not sitting idly in your office all day waiting for you to be done.”
