I took several beats to catch my breath while Xavier left to direct the butler where to put our drinks and two steaks that had been rushed over from the nearby restaurant.
“That’ll be fine, Martin,” Xavier was saying as he passed the man a tip.
The butler gave another funny bow-nod, then left. Then Xavier poured us both flutes of champagne before taking a seat on the sofa, food on the coffee table in front of him.
“Are you coming?” he asked when he realized I hadn’t moved from the window.
It was only because I still couldn’t quite feel my legs.
“Um. Yes.” I made my way to the sofa and eyed the meat there. “I didn’t order that, though.”
“No, I did. You don’t have to have it now. Steak is actually better at room temperature anyway. Most people don’t know that.”
I murmured something along the lines of “Nor did I” while I watched, fascinated, as he took a bite of his own filet. For such a large man, he was almost dainty with his fork. He sliced his bite off perfectly, then examined it for a few seconds, smelled it, then placed it in his mouth, where he held it still and then, at last, started to chew. Only after he had swallowed did he realize I was staring.
“Something interesting?”
I took a sip of the champagne. It was admittedly the best drink I’d probably ever had. “I, um, just haven’t ever seen anyone eat like that before.”
“This is a Wagyu filet, dry-aged a hundred and twenty days. The finest cut you can get.” He eyed me carefully, as if he were measuring me up the same way. “I take my time with things worth savoring.” He cocked his head, causing a spare black lock to fall over his forehead. “Or don’t you remember?”
I shivered and sat back farther into the couch as he cut another piece. And another. The way his eyes closed and mouth moved over each bite was almost erotic. Actually, no. It was erotic.
“All right,” he said once he had finished. He reached over to refill my champagne glass, which was empty. “I’ve answered some questions. And you’ve just watched me eat the rest of my dinner—quite uncomfortable being stared at. So now it’s my turn to ask a few more things.”
My stomach clenched, and I could feel my cheeks redden. “What, um, do you want to know?”
“Let’s see…” He drummed his fingers on his knee. “Something interesting. Something no one else knows.”
I swallowed. How about that I have a daughter? Oh, and that’s she’s yours.
“My favorite fruit is kiwi,” I offered lamely.
Xavier gave me a look that told me he thought it was an idiotic answer. “Come on. You can do better than that.”
You have no idea.
“I know. How about your number?”
“My phone number?”
He chuckled. “No, I already have that, thanks. I meant your number. You know. How many suitors has Francesca Zola had to chase out of her bed since last we met?”
I nearly choked. “You don’t think that’s kind of personal?”
Xavier snorted. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m just curious, is all. Isn’t that the point of this little game we started? To really get to know each other?”
“Maybe. But asking me about my sexual history isn’t really the same as you telling me your favorite color.”
This time, he laughed outright. It was more of a bark than a laugh, but it was still there.
“It’s not funny!” I screeched.
“Yes, it is.” But he stopped laughing anyway. I was almost willing to be the butt of a joke again if he would keep doing it. “Fine. You can go again. Something equally intrusive. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. No more favorite fruits.”
I tapped my lips for a moment, enjoying the way his eyes dilated slightly at the gesture. At least I wasn’t the only one feeling things. “All right. You want sex? I want love. Who is the greatest love of your life?”
Xavier shrugged. “That’s easy. No one.”