She should’ve screamed no and then run out like her life depended on it.
But she didn’t.
“Sure.”
Maddox looked about as surprised as Orion was at her response. He recovered quickly.
“The Italian Chianti that’s not on the menu anymore but you keep for your favorite customer?” Maddox spoke to Maria with sweetness and reverence in his voice.
Orion was jealous.
Of an old Italian woman with kind eyes.
She winked at Maddox. “Of course.”
Then she swept the menus away, leaving Orion and Maddox alone with each other. Of course, they’d been alone with each other for the entire day, but this was different.
This was an Italian restaurant with soft lighting and a woman called Maria.
Orion fidgeted. Tried to stave off panic. Tried to stop herself from replaying this afternoon. These past ten years.
“April told me you’re turning into a regular Gordon Ramsay.”
Orion snapped her head up at Maddox’s voice. There was softness in it. Same with his eyes.
“What?”
He chuckled. The sound was slightly forced, but nice nonetheless. “April said you’re getting good at cooking.”
Orion paused as the information sunk in. Of course April told him about her. She lived with Maddox after all. A pang of annoyance hit her at April reporting back to Maddox like that.
“What’s your favorite thing to cook?” Maddox continued, as if he weren’t bothered by her silence.
She frowned at him, not trusting the question. Not trusting anything. “I like French cooking,” she said after a beat. “I’m working through the Mastering the Art of French Cooking.”
His eyes lit up. “Ah, Julia Child.”
Orion didn’t hide her surprise at Maddox knowing the author of the cookbook.
He shrugged. “I like movies. Julie and Julia is a great one if you haven’t seen it yet.”
She hadn’t. But she would put in on her list.
Orion waited for him to show her his true questions. The probing ones about her state of mind, to pick her apart until he found out she was planning on committing murder.
But none came.
Maddox continued to ask her about cooking, about books, about the lightest, smallest things in her life.
Like this was normal.
She played along.
For tonight, at least.
Orion was content.
She hadn’t felt like this, ever.
Her stomach was full of possibly some of the best food she’d ever eaten. Momma Maria wasn’t lying. She knew she had become something of a chef in her months of freedom. April had even coined Orion’s fare “orgasmic without having to bother with a man or a vibrator.” But, damn, she could only hope to one day make a lasagna that good.
Her thoughts felt delightfully light thanks to wine that softened the edges of everything and tasted great. She had found some comfort in a bottle a time or two since escaping, but she was far from a connoisseur. With the wine Maddox ordered, she learned there was a whole wide world out there she had yet to explore.
Maddox was driving the car. He hadn’t forced any conversation since they’d left the restaurant. He hadn’t pushed it when they were inside it either. It had flowed, easily, like the wine. About nothing important, and everything at the same time. When silence did lapse between them, it wasn’t awkward. He didn’t try to fight his way out of it. He felt more relaxed to her than he had since she saw him that day in the hospital.
The lights of the town rushed past them and Orion watched it all go by. She had gotten what she wanted. A taste of what life might’ve been like if things were different. A sharp, fresh plate of bruschetta. Fresh mozzarella drizzled in balsamic and olive oil. Stuffed zucchini flowers. That lasagna. Tiramisu that was creamy and sweet. Red wine that slid down her throat and warmed her skin.
It would’ve been nice to live such a life without all the baggage, all the evil and hatred, the darkness that simmered beneath the surface.
But her life was what it was.
Nothing nice. Nothing sweet. Nothing easy.
Maddox parked in the lot of her building. “I’ll walk you up,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt.
“You don’t need to do that,” Orion said quickly, desperately.
It would feel too much like a date then. It wasn’t. She wasn’t going to kiss him at the door, invite him in, even if small, foreign parts of her wanted that. She knew that sex was never going to be normal for her. Never right. Articles online had told her that eventually she would come to enjoy it, with the right person, but that seemed like a load of bullshit. The right person? Does such a thing even exist?
“Orion,” he said, voice firmer now. “It’s dark. You live in a good building, with good security, but I’m not taking chances with this shit.” Something changed about him then. He was no longer easy, willing to follow her lead. No, this was a man that was in charge, in control.