She recoiled and her elbow caught the edge of the table. The cutlery rattled and the water glasses wobbled. She closed her eyes momentarily and hitched a breath. “Is that why you’re here? Did you finally decide to go through with this?”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
She studied me, and beneath the layers of distrust I saw hope. I saw happiness. I saw excitement. My gut twisted with the need to be the prince charming for once in my godforsaken life. Unfortunately for her, circumstances had already cast me as the villain, and I didn’t think that would change any time in the near future.
“Look, Carmela.” I planted my hands on the edge of the table. “I don’t want to marry you, I don’t want to date you, and I definitely don’t want to grow old with you.”
The corner of her lips curled upward, and she beamed with gullibility and innocence. “So that’s it? The deal is off. Both of us are free to do whatever we want?”
“If only that were the case.”
Her brows caved together. We were so close that only the flickering candle and waves of heat separated our faces. “Then why am I here?”
The waitress approached the table, her hands on her hips and an overly bright smile on her face. She looked vaguely familiar. “Hey, Kon,” she purred, her expression predatory. “Where have you been hiding yourself?”
Then it hit me, and I grimaced inwardly. This chick had sucked me off in the storage room the last time I came here for dinner with my dad a couple of months ago. From what I could remember, the night was a real shit show. I’d pounded back drink after drink while my dad ranted nonstop about the ways I had failed to meet his expectations, and how I never would meet his expectations. In other words, it was a typical night.
I pulled in more money than my dad and my influence in the Russian mafia was quickly eclipsing his, and yet he still wanted more, bleeding me dry every second I spent under his thumb. Instead of listening, I mercilessly flirted with the waitress, showing him without words he couldn’t control me.
I whispered crude pickup lines every time she delivered something to the table. I brushed my fingertips up her bare legs and down her arm. And in retrospect, I acted like a complete dickhead.
When I got up to go to the bathroom, she redirected me to a nearby closet and proceeded to give me one of the most forgettable blowjobs of my life, but that didn’t stop me from throwing it in my dad’s face. He flipped his shit. I smiled at the memory of his face when I returned to the table.
“Here and there,” I drawled, lifting the menu and for practical purposes dismissing her. I didn’t need the ghosts of stupid decisions thrown in my face tonight. Not when I needed Carmela to trust me.
The waitress didn’t get the hint. She inched closer and angled her body toward mine, her legs and plastic breasts sweeping against me. Her peppery, floral scent curled into my nose, and I ground my teeth together. She needed to back away before I flipped my shit.
“I haven’t seen you around since we—”
“We’re ready to order,” I interrupted.
Carmela’s curious stare fixed on the waitress whose name I couldn’t recall even if someone pressed a gun to my head. “We are?” Carmela said. “Huh. I kind of wanted to hear what—I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name…”
“Lindsey,” the waitress supplied, rolling her shoulders back. Her breasts looked like they’d explode out of her white collared shirt with one strenuous breath.
“…Lindsey had to say about the last time you ran into her,” Carmela finished.
“Lindsey,” I said, drawing out her name, “doesn’t have anything to say. She’s here to do her job and take our order. We’ll have the tasting menu with wine pairing.”
“That’s not happening,” Carmela cut in. “It’s seven courses. I don’t have time for that.”
Neither did I, but I in the interest of getting the waitress the hell away from me, I ordered the first item listed on the menu.
I turned to the waitress. “Why are you still here? I didn’t ask you to pull up a chair and join us.”
“Ugh. Whatever,” she huffed, whirling around and stomping to the kitchen.
“Well, that was interesting,” Carmela said. “Are you going to tell me what that was about?”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
There wasn’t. Lindsey was one more woman in a lengthy line of mistakes since my ex shit all over my life, leaving my personal life in shambles. The only upside of my ex’s departure was that I channeled my anger and resentment into making money, thinking I’d show my ex what she was missing.