Sara-Kate rolled her eyes, reaching to open the door. “Oh my God, Mari, he’s five minutes early. That’s a huge green flag.”
Before I could say anything or possibly fling myself off the balcony, Sara-Kate threw open the door. Alaric stood casually, one hand in his suit jacket pocket, the other holding a large bouquet of dark red roses, white lilies, and anemones. My mouth went dry as I took him in. His long dark hair was pulled back in its usual bun at the nape of his neck, not a hair out of place. He was wearing what looked like an expensive, dark gray suit with a deep emerald green tie that brought out the already vibrant green of his eyes. And his eyes hungrily took me in as I stood there, mute.
“Well, I’m off.” Sara-Kate awkwardly finally spoke after Alaric and I just stood there for who knows how long, just staring at each other like idiots. “Have fun, you two.”
“Come in.” I finally found my voice, moving to the side so Alaric’s tall build could walk in.
He cleared his throat, not moving, his grip on the bouquet becoming so tight I could see the white of his knuckles. “You’re beautiful, Mari. Truly.”
I blushed. “Thanks. You clean up nicely too. Come on in so we can put those in some water.”
He looked confused for a moment, and it took me nodding my head to the too large bouquet in his hands for him to even remember he was holding them.
“Oh, right?” he chuckled, walking into the apartment. “These are for your aunt. A sort of apology for the other night.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Smart man.”
“I can be sometimes.” He chuckled, stepping through the entryway.
“Sometimes,” I repeated, rolling my eyes as I led him into the apartment.
We walked into the living room where Tiffany was still poring over her renovation plans. She looked up, eyebrows raised in surprise to see Alaric and the flowers. She stood quickly, holding her hand out.
“I’m Tiffany Pollard. It’s nice to finally meet you, Alaric.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” His deep British voice was all charm and allure as he reached out to shake her hand. “And these are for you. An apologyfor keeping Mari out so late the other night and a thank you for a second chance at a first impression.”
Tiffany’s cheeks flushed as she took the bouquet, clearing her throat. “Well, that is very sweet of you. I know you two have reservations, but I look forward to talking more at brunch on Sunday.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Alaric beamed, his bright smile almost blinding me. He turned to me, offering his arm. “Ready to go, Mari?”
I took it tentatively. “Yep.”
We walked back towards the front door where my jacket was hanging in the hall closet. Alaric helped me into my jacket, his fingers skimming the golden death mark lightly, his brow furrowed in worry for a moment.
We were silent as we rode the elevator down and even as we got into Alaric’s car, his driver waiting out front with the engine running. My stomach was in a million knots, my pulse thrumming in time with the ring that seemed to almost glow. I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets, willing myself to calm down. Thiswasn’ta date. Not even close.
But it sure as hell felt like one as soon as we walked into the restaurant. It was dark and intimate in the small Italian restaurant, just across the street from Central Park, not far from where I had seen the Bosnian man. I pushed those thoughts aside as the maître d’ led us to our table for two in a quiet corner. The table was lit with candles and already had complicated table settings with utensils that I had no idea what to do with. I felt my stomach flip as I took in the multiple glasses and the tiny forks and spoons.
The maître d’ walked away, leaving us with the menus. I opened mine immediately, desperate for something to keep myself occupied. But I immediately closed the menu when I saw the prices. The cheapest thing was $50. I was way over my head.
“You know what you want?” Alaric asked, looking over the top of his menu as he noticed I slammed mine shut and placed it on the table.
“Um, I’m not that hungry so I’ll just get a Coke or something,” I mumbled, pulling at my skirt.
Alaric chuckled, clearly finding my discomfort funny.Asshole.
The waiter assigned to our table appeared ready to take our order. Just as I was about to order my solitary coke, Alaric jumped in.
“We will both love a bottle of sparkling water, and then we’ll start with the calamari appetizer followed by two chicken and mushroom truffle risottos.” He ordered, exuding all confidence and aplomb, handing the waiter both our menus.
“Very good.” The waiter nodded, turning to put our orders in.
“I didn’t order that,” I accused, irritated that he would just order for me.
“It’s excellent. You’ll love it,” he replied, taking a sip of the tap water that was already sitting at the table. “You’re going to need protein and something warm in you.”
I sighed as I looked around the restaurant, taking in the intricate stone architecture, my gaze focusing on a mural of the Tuscan countryside.
