Page 47 of Lilies from Hell

“Why would you like someone who doesn’t like you? It doesn’t make sense.” As if I hadn’t been there myself before.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s something that runs in the family.” I look at her, stifling a laugh.

“What would you like to drink?” asks the waiter as he approaches our table with a smile that could well be perfect.

“A very cold bottle of white wine, please.”

“That guy over there hasn’t stopped staring at us since we got here,” she whispers with a sly smile after a long pause.

“Who?”

“The one two tables to our right. Be discreet,” she warns when he sees my intentions.

I turn around, trying to catch a glimpse of the man, until I finally find him. He is wearing a black cap and has his head down, seemingly typing something on his cell phone. Then the same waiter approaches with the bottle of wine and two glasses before I can add anything else.

“Do you know what you’re going to order?”

“I’ll have the wagyu sirloin with potatoes.”

“Same for me,” Grace replies with her gaze still on the man a few meters away from us.

“Perfect, thank you,” he says before leaving.

“And that idiot keeps staring the whole damn time, doesn’t he have anything better to do?” she hisses under her breath.

“Maybe he likes you.” I raise both eyebrows.

“Thanks, but no thanks. Besides, I like tanned guys,” she says, glancing sideways at Lance. I shake my head with an amused smile.

The minutes pass with laughter and small talk until our food arrives, and we both pay more attention to our conversation than to the food on our plates.

“I’m starting to think pretty badly of that guy,” Grace whispers.

“Why?”

“He could be an infiltrator planning to take us down at any moment. Or working for the police.”

“It sounds a little crazy, but it’s also quite likely,” I say with a frown before glancing quickly at the man in question.

He is now drinking what looks like a glass of water. He hasn’t ordered anything to eat, and in a place like this, I doubt they’d let you stay without ordering anything other than a glass of water.

“It is, that’s why I’m worried.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, but we have to watch our backs,” she says, glancing sideways at the man with her eyes slightly narrowed.

When he suddenly drops his fork, the noise makes me almost choke on my glass of wine.

“He stood up!” she whispers, causing me to look in that direction. “I think he’s going to the restroom.”

“And you want us to hold him there and interrogate him?” I say in a playful tone.

“Just wait here for me.”

She then gets up, grabs her purse, and quickly heads to the restroom. It takes Grace no more than five minutes to return with a wallet and a cell phone in her hands.

“We have to go. Now,” she blurts out, stuffing the two items into her purse.