Page 84 of Toxic Kiss

“For the lady,” the waiter says, handing me the wine list.

“I won’t need this, but thank you.”

“Oh, of course. May I recommend appetizers?”

“Yes, please,” Father answers.

I dare a glance at Cyrus as the waiter lists off the five items available. His eyes are filled with a warning that confuses me. Then again, as well as I know him—I’ll probably never understand Cyrus Vale completely.

“Have you made your decision, miss?” The waiter stares at me expectantly.

I smile, but before I can answer, Cyrus cuts in smoothly.

“She’ll have lobster risotto and the house Sauvignon Blanc. I’ll have the same but with water.”

The waiter blinks, clearly confused.

“Very well.”

I narrow my eyes at Cyrus.

He shrugs, unapologetic. “You always order it.”

“How would you even know that?”

He shrugs and smirks. What the hell does that mean?

“I don’t want a drink,” I say in frustration.

He shakes his head at me and leans in close while Anita and my father order.

“I know you are only doing that because of me.” His voice is low, intimate, the kind that slips under your skin and stays there. “Don’t act different around me.” Cy runs his fingers down my bare arm, goosebumps chasing the sensation. “I’m good. I promise. I hang around the band, remember?”

“Okay. I still want to know how you know about the lobster risotto.”

His eyes sparkle with a mischievousness that only he can pull off. “That is my little secret.”

“Or you’re a closet stalker.”

“Maybe I am,” he says and I look away as the earlier heat returns to my stomach. Damn him.

The waiter returns moments later with our drink order and appetizers. Cyrus never takes his eyes off me as I sip my wine.

“So…Haven.” Anita starts.

Great round two is in coming.

“How’s that handsome fiancé of yours? What is his name? Chandler? Chuck?”

“Charles,” I say flatly.

“Yes, that’s it. Charles.” She waves her drink around like she doesn’t really care. “I cannot wait to meet him. He sounds like the perfect catch. A fancy lawyer from a super-rich family. Bravo. I just can’t imagine him being thrilled that you’re spending your nights on a tour bus with a bunch of half-dressed rock stars.”

I want to grab my fork and stab her. Cyrus stiffens, his jaw flexing. Leave it to Anita to toss the ticking time bomb.

“He trusts me. That tends to happen in relationships that aren’t built on blackmail, Botox, and greed,” I say, with a smirk.

My father groans and gives me a stern look. But it doesn’t affect me anymore when it comes to Anita.