“You do this often?” I asked, taking a sip of the wine. It was excellent. Dark cherry, cedar, and a peppery finish that lingered.
He stilled, the blade hovering just a hair above the cutting board. He looked at me then—a thorough, unhurried assessment that had more of a London gentleman’s scrutiny than a soldier's stare. “I don't make a habit of this, Juliette. And I certainly don'tcook for people who can't appreciate a proper sear. It’s a waste of good protein and a perfectly fine Malbec.”
The way he said my name made the whole service counter feel smaller. A ridiculous part of me wanted to ask which category I’d earned. The proper sear, the good protein, or the perfectly fine Malbec.
Without looking up, he added, “There was a pub in Oxfordshire where the landlady traded cooking lessons for heavy lifting. She was more disciplined than my CO.”
The carrots fell into even cuts. “I’ve narrowed down my hypothesis, by the way.”
I leaned against the counter. “To what.”
“The tattoo.” He glanced at me—a quick, assessing look. “International art thief? Assassin on sabbatical?”
“It’s much more dangerous than that.”
“Interesting choice for someone who doesn’t leave things to chance.”
“I was a defense attorney, Nick. Logic isn't just a preference. It’s the weapon.”
I took a step closer. Not enough to crowd him, but enough to shift the temperature. “I’d pay to see your face,” I said softly, “when you find out why I keep a monster on my spine.”
His eyes cut to the curves beneath the silk. Then back to mine.
“Humor me,” he said.
A clean strike.
“The day before my first criminal case,” I said. “I was twenty-four. Surrounded by partners who had already decided I was a pretty doll they could break.”
I took another sip of wine, holding his gaze over the rim of the glass.
“The dragon wasn't for them,” I added. “I didn't need them to see it. I just needed to know that while they were looking at mylegs and my fresh-out-of-law-school face, I was the one with the teeth.”
His focus locked. Not a softening—a sharpening. He stepped into my space. No hesitation.
His hand lifted and settled at the small of my back. His fingers grazed the silk exactly where the dragon’s tail coiled.
“I like that,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “The hidden teeth. It explains a lot.”
Heat pressed through the silk at my back. My breath caught. Once. I stayed.
“But why a dragon.”
I smiled faintly.
“Because I’m a fantasy nerd.”
His brow lifted.
He didn’t laugh.
Didn’t move.
Just watched me like he was recalibrating something.
“Dragons. Power, intelligence, protective tendencies.” I paused. “Strong personal branding.”
I met his gaze, his thumb circling along my spine.
