CHAPTER 6 #2
Damián lifts the silver cover, revealing a delicious-looking artisanal pepperoni pizza. His face lights up.
“You like?” I ask.
“I like it a lot.” Damián takes the pizza plate off the tray, walks to the middle of the living room, and places it right on the floor.
“Dami, we are in a luxury suite at the Waldorf.” I point to the gigantic glass dining table a few feet away. “There’s a perfectly good table right there.”
“The best way to eat pizza is on the floor,” he declares, patting the carpet next to him. “Grab our drinks and sit down, baby-boo.”
I roll my eyes but grab our sodas and settle cross-legged next to him. I take a bite of my slice and groan. “Oh, my God. It’s been ages since I’ve had pizza this good.”
“Your choice in food was great. I’ve been craving pizza for a week now.”
“Really? I’ve been craving pie, but room service doesn’t seem to have any.”
“I know the best place for pies,” Damián says after eating a mouthful of crust. “Want to come with me on Friday?”
“I can’t. I’m meeting someone,” I say, but the moment the words leave my mouth, Damián’s smile falls, and his jaw tenses.
I blink, suddenly second-guessing myself.
Oh, crap… Was I supposed to tell Harknett my plans first?
“I can go out, right? I thought I was supposed to follow my normal routine and act natural, but if it’s a security risk, I can cancel—”
“Who is this ‘someone’?” Damián interrupts.
“What?”
“You said you’re meeting someone. Who?”
“I’m… meeting Zara. I haven’t seen her in three weeks, and she’ll probably stab me if I keep saying I’m busy.”
Damián’s eyes search my face for a few seconds, although I am unclear on what he’s looking to find. “You’re going out with Zara?”
“Yes.”
“Just Zara?”
“Just her.”
Damián lets out a long breath, his shoulders relax, his smile comes back, and he looks… relieved?
I mean, I guess it makes sense he is relieved, since Harknett already cleared Zara, and he knows she’s not a threat.
“Then it’s settled. I’ll see her on Friday.” I smile and bite a big chunk of my delicious pizza slice.
“Well…” Damián wipes his hands on a napkin and scratches at his stubble. “She can come eat pie with us… If she wants to… Of course.”
“What?” I gasp, inhaling a crumb of pizza crust straight into my windpipe, and start coughing.
Damián drops his napkin and smacks me a few times on the back, helping me breathe. “Come on, Ollie, you can’t die on my watch. No one would ever hire us again if our informant died while eating pizza.”
I wheeze, clutching my chest as the coughing stops.
“You want to meet my best friend?”
“I do.” Damián shrugs unbothered, reaching for his soda as if he didn’t just invite himself on my outing. “I mean, I feel like I should. It would be weird if we’re doing all these boyfriend things for a month and I don’t even know your best friend.”
“Ajá…”
“It would look suspicious.”
“Suspicious?” I ask.
“Very suspicious.” He nods solemnly.
I am completely lost on what the hell is actually going on inside his head. I narrow my eyes at him, and he winks at me.
Fine, I give up trying to figure him out.
“Okay. I’ll ask her.”
“Great,” he says, and takes another bite of pizza, chewing super slow as he stares at me expectantly.
“Oh… you meant… ask her right now?”
“Yeah.”
Oh shit…
If I text her about Damián and she says yes… won’t that be an admission of how I’ve been talking to her about him?
Damn… that’s embarrassing.
“I mean…” I shift awkwardly on the floor. “I would have to actually tell her about you first.”
“Tell her. I’ll wait.”
I let out a long breath, wipe the grease off my fingers with a napkin, and pull my phone out of the pocket of my bathrobe. I open Zara’s chat and type…
OLIVER: Hey, I know we had plans on Friday, but Dami wants to meet you.
I hit send and toss the phone onto the carpet. “There. Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” He grins.
I’m about to reach for my soda when my phone vibrates.
Then it vibrates again… and again.
Damián’s smile widens, his eyes drop to the screen that’s lighting up on the floor, then back up to study my face.
“I’ll check.” I snatch the phone up, silently praying Zara has an ounce of chill.
She doesn’t.
ZARA: OMMGGG!!!!!
ZARA: I’m meeting Sex God!! FUCK YES.
ZARA: I’m so in!
Dear God…
I immediately angle the screen away from Damián so he can’t read the absolute lack of shame radiating from my best friend.
“Well?” Damián asks, leaning in slightly. “What does she say?”
“She seems… hesitant.”
The phone buzzes again in my palm.
ZARA: I’m so excited!!! Can you make out with him in front of me?
I close my eyes for a split second, praying for patience… or for a sinkhole to open up and swallow the Waldorf whole.
“Very hesitant.” I smile and type a reply.
OLIVER: Tone it down, Z, or I swear I’ll hire a lookalike to go in your place.
ZARA: Ok, I’ll be boring and act as if I’ve never heard of him.
OLIVER: Promise?
ZARA: Promise.
I’m about to lock the phone when another text comes in.
ZARA: But…. I demand at least one kiss in front of me. If not, the deal is off.
OLIVER: Fine, you fucking Rumpelstiltskin.
ZARA: Yay!!!!!
I lock the phone and shove it face-down onto the carpet, safely out of sight. I look back up at Damián and let out a defeated sigh. “…She’s in.”
“Great!”
I pick up my pizza and take a bite of the crust. “Yeah… great.”
— ¤ —
On Friday afternoon, I walk beside Damián toward the famous Chapters & Crumbs. He’s told me so much about this bakery that I feel like I already know the place inside and out.
“Are we sure we can come here?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder. “Isn’t this connected to… you know?”
“This is the best bakery in New York. They average nine hundred sales a day, and I come here often by myself since it’s the only place I can safely leave messages for… you know. Finni also knows I am an art dealer,” Damián replies with a comforting smile. “So relax, no one will suspect a thing.”
But I’m so conflicted.
I am absolutely dying to go inside, meet the famous Finni, and finally try the food, but Damián doesn’t understand how Rafael’s mind works. He is deeply paranoid, and I don’t want to put anyone in this bakery in danger just because we wanted pie.
“If you are hesitant, we’ll just give the shadows some of the pastries,” Damián says, as if he’s reading my mind. “Once they taste the food, they’ll completely understand why we dragged them all the way out here.”
“Can we do that?”
“Sure. I’ll handle it.” Damián stops just outside the entrance and offers me his hand. “Ready?”
I look down at his outstretched hand, take a deep breath, and lace my fingers tightly through his.
“Let’s do this.”
The moment we walk in, I completely understand why the Harknetts are obsessed with this place. The bakery is cozy, whimsical, and the exact polar opposite of my houses. There are thousands of books, cozy nooks, and candles everywhere.
It’s so freaking magical that I haven’t even tried the food, and I am already obsessed with this place.
“This bakery is lovely.”
“Right? Best pie in New York,” Damián says, steering me toward a corner booth. “But now, I’m introducing you to the second-best thing here.”
I turn around, expecting to see the owner or a friend, but instead, I see the cutest, fluffiest white cat I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Oh, my God!” I gasp. “Who is this baby creature of my heart?”
“Sarumeown, meet Oliver. Ollie, meet Sarumeown… He’s my favorite of all the cats.”
“Sarumeown? That is the coolest freaking name.”
“And he knows it.”
I reach out to pet the furball just as the front doorbell chimes.
“Ollie?!”
Both Damián and I turn around to see Zara walking in with her golden curly hair messed up by the wind draft, and an outfit that looks like she just left a fashion show to come here.
“Hi.” I wave, unsure of what to do. I’ve never introduced her to a man I was seeing before… much less a man I am fake-seeing.
“So, this is the sexy man—” she says, and I glare at her. “—that I know nothing about.”
Damn you, traitor.
“Damián,” I say, gesturing between them. “This is my ex-best friend, Zara. Zara… this is Damián.”
“A pleasure.” Damián reaches out to shake her hand.
“Oh, I like him,” Zara says to me, without breaking eye contact with him. “He’s got manners.”
Okay, that’s a nice thing to say.
“Big, hot, manners—”
“Okay, let’s go order something,” I say quickly, cutting her off.
“Actually, I already ordered for all of us,” Damián explains, guiding us to a secluded, cozy nook with a Reserved sign on the table.
“You did? When?”
Damián rests his head against mine, leaning down to whisper right next to my ear. “Yesterday, when I told Finni to book us a table.”
My skin shivers at the feeling of his warm breath fanning over my neck.
“Why don’t you guys sit down, and I’ll go get the food for the shadows,” Damián offers.