“Restaurant’s getting ready to close.”
“Kind of early, isn’t it?” she said, puzzled. It was just starting to get dark.
“We’re near a vamp area.”
“Ahh. That’s right, I forgot.” Lone humans and low-level magic-bloods tended to disappear from vamp areas at night. Rent near vamp areas was super cheap, although the price of garlic was through the roof. It also explained why an Italian restaurant would have set up shop in this neighborhood; a meal here would guarantee a person a safe walk home, at least.
He put down his spoon. “You haven’t had dessert. I own this building, and I have an apartment upstairs where I crash sometimes. Come upstairs, and if you want to leave afterwards, I will escort you home myself.”
“That’s a terrible idea,” she grumbled – and she kept repeating that to herself as she let him lead her by the hand out of the restaurant, and up a flight of stairs by the side of the building
Chapter Eleven
Dominic’s apartment took up the entire floor above the restaurant. The furniture was black leather and rich cherrywood. There were framed watercolors of Nevada landscapes on the walls. She recognized some of them; they were by a well-known local artist. The bookshelf against the wall was beautifully arranged, with hardcover art and photography books, and bronze sculptures of wolves.
She never would have guessed that his apartment would look so warm and homey. She’d pictured something sterile and straight out of a catalog. What else didn’t she know about him?
“You support the arts,” she murmured, pausing to look at a watercolor, admiring the luscious jewel tones of a desert sunset.
As he shed his suit jacket, he gave her a wry smile, with an oddly wistful undertone. Now what was that all about? “Does that get me points?”
“It doesn’t detract any,” she said grudgingly.
“Wow. Tough room.” He took off his tie and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, but he didn’t move closer to her – yet.
“More wine?” he said, as he headed to the kitchen. She followed him in. The kitchen was decorated in bright reds, yellows and blues, in a modern art deco style, and there were even more paintings on the walls in there. Absentmindedly, she stroked a drooping basil plant, letting her earth energy flow into it, and it sprang back to life.
“I’m fine, thanks. Oh, and thank you for an amazing dinner. I loved that restaurant,” she said. “I’m curious, though. Your pack owns a restaurant at the Arena. Why didn’t you take me there?”
“I thought it was too flashy for you. I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”
“That’s surprisingly thoughtful of you.”
“I’m full of surprises. Some of them are even good ones. Like this tira misu.” He pulled open the refrigerator door.
Zoey was sure that she was too full for dessert, but when he served her up a plate of the creamy chocolate confection, she suddenly found room.
He only had one rule: he had to feed it to her. She should have said no, but then she wouldn’t get any tira misu. And she really wanted the tira misu.
He moved the kitchen chairs so he was sitting next to her, and spoon fed her bite after bite of the meltingly sweet dessert until the bowl was empty.
“Seconds?” he offered.
“You know what I want more than dessert? Information. About you.”
He frowned, setting down the fork in her empty bowl. “What kind of things did you want to know?” he said.
“Why are you so reluctant to share anything about yourself with me?”
Dominic stood up, grabbing her empty bowl, and carried it to the sink before he answered.
“I’m a private kind of person.”
“Why would you think I’d want to share my life with someone who won’t share anything of himself with me? You know all about me, and I know nothing about you. It hardly seems fair.”
His lip curled up in that cruel smile of his. “I never fight fair.”
Usually, she found that smile terrifying and sexy in equal measure. Right now, she found it infuriating. She shoved back her chair and stood up abruptly, her eyes flashing with anger.
