Page 4 of After the Chase

That’s only because he'd spent the entire journey with his hand on my thigh, fingers tracing patterns that were simultaneously soothing and arousing, and I'd been too wound up to think about food. But I don't say that.

Our waiter appears, the guy from earlier, he is a young and handsome guy, with dark curls and an easy smile. My hands start to fidget in my lap, because this guy has no idea who Noah is and what he is capable of. He sets down water glasses withpracticed grace, his movements confident as he has performed this move hundreds of times.

"Good evening, signori," he says, his English lightly accented and charming.

"Welcome to Osteria della Luna. My name is Luca, and I'll be taking care of you tonight." His eyes linger on me for just a moment too long, his smile widening. "You have chosen the most romantic table. The view is spectacular, no?"

"It's beautiful," I say, because it would be rude not to respond.

"Like you, signore." Luca's smile is playful, flirtatious. "You are on your honeymoon, perhaps?"

I feel Noah's attention sharpen like a blade being drawn. I’m not sure how Luca thinks this is appropriate considering my husband is right here.

"Yes," Noah says, his voice perfectly pleasant, perfectly empty. "We're married."

"Ah, congratulations!" Luca doesn't seem to notice the danger, which either makes him dumb or another psychopath. "Then you must try our special tasting menu. Seven courses, each paired with wine. Very romantic. I will take excellent care of you both." But his eyes are still on me, warm and appreciative.

"That sounds perfect," I say quickly, trying to defuse whatever is building in the air between us. "We'll have that."

"Wonderful choice." Luca writes something on his pad, then looks up at me again. "And may I say, your husband is very lucky. You have beautiful blue eyes."

The temperature drops ten degrees, and I feel like I have stepped inside the movie Inception, where everything pauses around us. If only this was a dream I could awake from.

"Thank you," Noah says, his smile not reaching his eyes. "I'm very aware of how lucky I am."

Luca finally seems to sense something, his smile faltering slightly as he looks at Noah.

"I'll... I'll bring your first course shortly,” he says, before retreating, and I watch him go with my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Noah," I say quietly.

"He touched your hand when he set down your water glass." Noah's fingers drum once against the table, the only sign of anything resembling emotion. "Did you notice?"

I hadn't because I’m too aware of Noah.

"It was nothing," I say, trying to play off the situation.

"It wasn't nothing." His eyes are fixed on me, dark and empty like a demon that’s been woken from the dead. "He's interested in you. He made that very fucking clear."

"He's just being friendly. It's his job, he flirts with everyone for tips. It’s not a big deal."

"It's not his job to tell my husband he has beautiful eyes." Noah's voice is perfectly even but frosty.

Throughout dinner, Luca returns to our table multiple times, refilling water glasses that are still half-full, asking if the food is satisfactory, recommending desserts with his hand resting on the back of my chair, his body angled toward me in a way that excludes Noah entirely.

I try to be polite but distant, but Luca is persistent, his charm unwavering, and his attention focused solely on me as if Noah doesn't exist.

And Noah…Noah is perfectly still, like a stone statue. He eats his food with disinterest, responding to Luca's questions with monosyllabic courtesy, his face an empty mask. But I know him. I know what’s coming, so why don’t I stop it?

We finish dinner in relative silence. Noah pays the bill with cash, tips generously, and guides me out of the restaurant with his hand at the small of my back.

I think back to Prague, there was a bartender who slipped me his phone number. I didn't even realize it was in my pocket until Noah found it that night. Three days later, the bartender was found in the Vltava River. Accidental drowning, they said.

I knew better. Wrote about it in my private journal, detailing the timeline, the method, the total absence of remorse in Noah's eyes when I mentioned the news report.

He'd simply kissed my forehead and said, "You're safe now."

And I'd feltgrateful.