Page 60 of Revenge & Truth

Without saying a word, Ivy walked up to my side that had a large cutout showing from just under my bust to my hip. Pulling out what I thought was a bobby pin from her hair, she sliced right through the inch of fabric holding my breasts where they should be. With that one simple cut, the whole dress instantly fell off.

“Anything a man doesn’t have to work for makes it cheap,” Ivy stated.

Thankfully, we had the store to ourselves, having paid for two hours of private shopping. Otherwise, I’d have been standing on this fucking platform wearing only a smile in front of all the shoppers.

“Cute, Ivy, real cute.” I sighed, stepping down and heading to my dressing room. “Well, that was the last dress I had to try on, so off to the next destination?”

“I didn’t get a chance to eat, so I think we should stop for a late lunch. A little wine, yummy food, and a break from shopping might do us both some good before the next stop,” Ivy suggested.

Realizing I’d only had the muffin to eat today, it sounded like a smart plan. “Sure, did you have a restaurant in mind?”

“There’s this little bistro around the corner that makes amazing salads, pasta, and flatbreads,” she offered. “They might also have the best happy hour when it comes to wine in the whole city.”

Once more, fully clothed but for the underwear that Braxton ruined, I rejoined her. “Well, I’m sold, and now that we’re talking about food, I am ravenously hungry.”

Ivy smiled brightly and seemed to relax a little as if she might have been worried I was upset with her. Reaching out, I caught her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for making me get out of the house and do something fun. Like I told you before, I don’t have much luck with female friends. I want you to know I respect you a hell of a lot more for being honest with me than lying just because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” Ivy murmured as she dropped her eyes, trying to hide the emotion in them, but I saw how she teared up. I didn’t comment as she cleared her throat and sniffled softly before regaining her composure. “Now, let’s go stuff our faces and drink some damn good wine.”

“Hell yeah,” I cheered as we left the store.

Ivy wasn’t kidding when she said the restaurant was around the corner, which meant we left the car where it was. The bistro looked like it had once been a greenhouse with all the plants that filled the space. Every table and chair were mismatched, giving it a rather artsy vibe but still had a classy edge. They brought us to a table near the back of the restaurant, which I thought was a little odd since it was quite busy and the patio had more open seating. Choosing not to question the matter, I took my seat and started to look over the giant wine list.

“Are you telling me all of these are part of happy hour?” I asked in amazement.

“Told you.” Ivy chuckled. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I had a small bit of business to deal with today. He’ll be popping by the table to collect something from me.”

I waved off her worry, fully invested in this hunt for the right wine. Unfortunately, I’d spent time around people who liked liquor more than wine, so I was still learning what I liked. There were a few types of wine I knew to stay away from, not at all interested in drinking something that made me feel like swallowing cotton balls. When the waitress returned, I asked for a suggestion between two wines I’d been looking at to go with my meal.

“I’d highly recommend the malbec, ma’am,” she shared, staring off at a man near the entrance. “It’s one of the most popular options, and everyone tells me it pairs nicely with our menu.”

Frowning, I looked at Ivy, who was trying to hide her grin by taking a sip of water. “That’s good to know, but I was trying to decide between the St. Laurent and the Syrah.”

The waitress blushed, bringing her focus back to us. “I’m so sorry, you did say that. Ah… the St. Laurent is new for us, and I haven’t had a chance to try it. However, the Chester Grove Syrah is one of my favorites.”

“Syrahs are a dime a dozen in places like this. Hardly anyone carries a St. Laurent, so I strongly suggest you try it while you can,” a man with a slight accent said, startling me.

Looking as if he’d just walked off his yacht, he wore a white shirt with a blazer and a fucking ascot like he’d stepped out of the seventies. His thick, dark brown hair hung to his shoulders with an effortless air to it that kind of made me hate him a little. Interestingly enough, even though this stranger was talking to me, he only had eyes for Ivy. Not that I could blame him—the woman was fucking stunning, even in the casual outfit she had on today.

The waitress’ eyes were huge as she gawked at the stranger. It made me think this might be what distracted her in the first place. Not wanting to be rude but knowing it would take something drastic, I snapped my fingers, startling her. “Hi there. I think I will take the gentleman’s recommendation and go for the St. Laurent. I would also like the grilled Caesar wrap with a side salad.”

Ivy gave her order, and our surprise guest waved her off without ordering anything, but first grabbed a bread roll from the basket on the table.

“I’ll get your orders put in and be back with the wine,” she mumbled, making a note and backing away only to knock into a person sitting behind her. With a hasty apology, the mortified girl ran back into the kitchen, her face beet red.

Resting my chin on my hand, I looked up at the fella. “Tell me, does that happen to you often?”

“I wouldn’t say often, but on occasion I’ve been known to cause a commotion,” he admitted, taking the third chair at our table.

“No, please join us. I’m delighted when a stranger decides to crash our girls’ lunch,” I said, hoping my words were dripping with enough sarcasm for him to get the hint.

The bastard had the balls to flash me a million-dollar smile and take my water glass to drink out of. “Thank you for the offer. It rather goes against everything I’ve heard about you.”

That had me sitting bolt upright and on high alert. “It seems rather unfair that you apparently know who I am, but I don’t have the faintest fuck who you are.”

“Domenico De Santis… pleasure to meet you, Astin Caprioni. Allow me to also share my condolences on your father’s passing. I know how hard it is to lose a parent,” he said, offering his hand to me.

Just when I was beginning to think there weren’t many people left in the world who could surprise me, Ivy-goddamn-Foxxx did exactly that. Grasping the man’s hand, I gave it a firm shake, and to my surprise, neither of us tried to use it as a power play. “Well, this is certainly an unexpected encounter.”