She blinked up at him as they ascended the stairs toward an ornately carved mahogany double door. “Why should it?”
“Because you’re out with a man who allegedly needs that much protection. Not a comforting thought, I’m sure.”
That was what he’d thought had dismayed her?
Not that she could fault his inaccuracy. She’d given him no reason to think she’d be disturbed at the thought of his death. But she was, jarringly so.
“When we try to make him lay off, Richard tells us we’re lucky he posts guards at that distance. It’s pointless arguing with him when his only alternative is 24/7 surveillance much closer up.”
“He has a good reason for his vigilance,” she murmured. “You’re too high-profile. You’re as recognizable as any Hollywood celebrity, and much more influential. There must be many people whose lives would be easier with you out of the way.”
She fought not to clutch his arm in reflex protection as two doormen opened the doors for them. She hoped he’d tell her that she watched too many action movies, that paranoid prophylactic measures were merely part of his partner’s job.
As if diagnosing her anxiety right this time, his gaze gentled. “As you so keenly observed before, I never make enemies. I also make sure it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep me around and healthy. I’m in no danger whatsoever.”
“Really?”
His smile broke out again, brightening her mood at once after the sharp dip it had taken. “Really.”
Believing him, she exhaled her pent-up breath. “But the valet is your man. You wouldn’t trust someone you haven’t picked and vetted yourself with that car of yours.”
His eyes glowed, though with what she couldn’t diagnose. Whatever it was, a girl could get addicted to it, could get lost in it, and be lost without it.
“That’s the mind I wanted working on my projects.”
“An hour ago you considered that that mind jumps to rash and unsubstantiated assumptions.”
“Only when it comes to my motives. We did agree I invert your thought process. How about you try to keep it upright from now on?”
“I don’t do it on purpose, you know. But I’ll try for the duration of lunch. Should be easier when I’m busy eating.”
He swept an arm forward to usher her inside. “Then by all means, let’s eat.”
The restaurant he’d chosen turned out to be a place she hadn’t known existed in the city she’d lived in for the past eight years. Inside a building she’d passed a hundred times before.
On the outside, it looked like any other upscale building in LA. On the inside, it made any other grand place she’d ever been inside look shabby. It wasn’t only the old-world, aristocratic luxury, but the very atmosphere radiated mystery and exclusivity. She kept expecting to see James Bond and his gallery of villains walking through the hyper-real setting.
But then, next to the god who led her deeper into his domain, every other larger-than-life character, real or fictional, would fade to nothing.
As they made their way deeper into what had to be a club of some sort, everyone in their path, each clearly hailing from a world of extreme breeding and wealth, exclaimed reverential greetings. Some actually bowed.
And she’d thought the Italian clan she belonged to by birth, who’d recently burst into her existence, was the epitome of elitism. But Antonio’s affluence, not to mention the awe he commanded, far surpassed the Accardis.
Not that wealth or power were of any interest to her. Her family’s or his. The only reason she was debating entering her father’s world was so she would have the family she’d never had. As for Antonio, the trappings of fame and fortune actually detracted from the far more impressive man cloaked in them.
With a hand on the small of her back, he led her into a ballroom-sized room with only one table for two in the center, exquisitely set in silk, silver and crystal. Her mind boggled at what it took to empty such a place and reserve it exclusively, at such short notice. If he didn’t keep it perpetually reserved for himself, that was.
He’d just sat down opposite her when her phone vibrated with a loud buzz in her purse. Still jangling from Antonio’s gossamer touches as he’d seated her, she almost jumped.
His hand rose in pure graciousness, permitting her to take the call, but his eyes remained fixed on her, letting her know he’d give her no privacy.
Getting the phone out, she fumbled it in unsteady hands, mumbled her chagrin at him, and herself, under her breath. It came out louder than she’d intended, since it elicited a blinding flash of his teeth.
She reeled in her runaway reactions, groaning as she saw the caller ID. Not the best time to talk to the other man who caused her emotional upheavals.