Sweaty grass scent? Not that there’s any grass in the city to accentuate that smell. If anything, I’ll smell like fossil fuels and pollution. Either way, I have to collect myself before I see him. Charm is key. Whatever it takes, I must be charming.
I walk through the front doors as I check my phone to see that Romeo texted me the location of our table— front room, far right, by the window.Shit, I hope he didn’t see my stomping earlier.My brother used to say my power-walking looked like an elephant on a trampoline. I feel the flush of embarrassment rise to my cheeks, but I ignore it as I cross to the first room on the right. It's dimly lit, with candles at every table and white brick walls with beautiful paintings of the ocean covering every inch.
I notice a figure standing up in the corner, recognize it as Romeo, and take one last breath to give me confidence. His hand extends to mine, and I let out every ounce of air left in my lungs as he guides me to my seat. I smile deeply, not breaking eye contact as I do. It's a focus that takes persistence because his face is entirely too perfect.
I don’t think I’ll get used to looking at him, and I’ve been with a fair share of highly sought-after men. None of them compare to him, though, and I think he knows it. We sit down, and I look at his hand, still holding mine. It's blatantly obvious that this tingling sensation I’m now feeling spread through my body is coming directly from that touch.
Before I can stop him or pull my hand away, he lifts it to his lips. The heat of his breath lingers on my skin for only a second, but I feel my reality shifting out of focus. I’m perplexed by it, completely caught off guard by the power he wields. It’s all charm, of course; nonetheless, I’m impressed.
When his lips touch my skin, I want to pull away. The electricity is so strong I think we could be dangerous for one another. Hence, the second he lifts his eyes, I pull away. I feel the heat radiate through my cheeks, making my stomach tie in knots and my mind forget everything that makes sense.
This is the worst kind of feeling because I know it’s purely chemical. There is nothing to this but lust. That, and I’m a good actress. It's why they chose me for this role— apart from my good looks and charm. I look down at my lap to hide the redness I know is heating my cheeks.
“So interesting,” his warm voice, like chai, quietly remarks. He really sounds like he’s in awe, even though I know he’s fucked countless women.
“What?” I grin at the thought that I could truly have captured his attention. Even if it is just for now, I need it to gain his trust. I lean in, look him right in those sharp green eyes again, perfectly narrowed to me.
“You’re the only thing I’ve ever looked upon that is without flaw.”
You know, he had me.Until now, he really had me thinking that this was going to go smoothly, then he conjures this throwaway line like I’m that easy. I scoff at his attempt.
“What?” He seems just as amused as me, but he wouldn’t if he knew why I was amused. I just have to know how many times this line has worked for him, so I ask.
He seems immediately embarrassed, and I think it’s because I’ve caught him in the act of bullshitting. He laughs, carving lines on the wood table with the tip of his finger.
“You’re the first.” He finally breaks, and now I know he’s lying.
I bite my lip and flirtatiously quip, “Oh, I doubt that very much, Romeo.”
“I promise you, Lydia. A woman like you doesn’t deserve to be lied to, even if it does make the man telling the truth look embarrassingly smitten.”
He talks a big game. I can’t deny that. And it probably works for other girls, but they’re not me.
They haven’t had to endure the endless rounds of men delivering half-assed, sappy soliloquies of fake affection only to be let down by every word. Occasionally, it’s because they’re killed before they can make good on it, but usually it’s just because they’re a disappointment, one and all. No one is as they appear, and I’m positive that every line Romeo throws at me will be found out.
One way or another, he’s lying. I know it. Anyway, it’s just like Kias said— the San Giovannis only want control.
“How loquacious of you.” I flash him a seductive smirk with just the right amount of innocence.
“How am I loquacious?” He continues to grin, so I know I’m winning.
“You talk a lot of bullshit.” I lift my chin, and he brings his hand to his chest drastically, like he’s been shot. I roll my eyes and fall back against the booth. He follows me, which is a tell-tale sign that he’s comfortable. Mimicking my actions is the first sign of trust. Whether he knows it or not, I’m playing him like a fiddle.
When the waiter comes, he lets me order first, so I choose the most expensive mixed drink on the menu— my personal favorite— Salvatore’s Legacy. It’s a go-to, and honestly, I don’t care how expensive it is tonight. There is no way I’m paying. I can tell by the way he takes the lead that he’s the type to pay on dates— pay on the first date, at least.
“You know I’m paying?” he asks.
I make sure to soak my meaningless answer in charm. “Yes, but I can pay for us if—“
“No, no.” He cuts me off like clockwork. I realize at this point that I’m not supposed to know anything about him, so I know for a fact that I have to pretend I’m a little surprised. I raise my brows, intending to ask him how he’s acquired such fortune as a struggling model in the big city.
“What?” He asks with a grin before I can say anything. He’s totally into me. Even if he doesn’t know it, I know this look too well. This may be far easier than I thought.
“You must be very well-off. I mean, if you can afford this type of dining…”
“And you must be very smart to assume I could afford it,” he shoots back quickly.
“Mmm. Maybe, but you do look the part.” I pout my lips suggestively.