Chapter Three #2
Would she snap her hand back…or let me pull her across the separation between us and into my lap?
As Claire set her menu down with a soft sigh, her attention shifted toward the host stand.
I felt my breath catch in my throat. Her eyes, a deep and mesmerizing green flecked with gold that danced in the candlelight, met mine for a fleeting moment.
In that brief exchange, time seemed to dissolve into an infinite pause.
The sensation was profoundly disorienting.
It was as if the world had narrowed to nothing but her presence.
I clenched my fists under the table once more, fighting to maintain my composure as my breath came in shallow, measured pulls.
A soft gasp escaped my lips, a reaction I could not entirely mask.
Quickly, I lifted the menu to my face, using it as a shield to conceal my involuntary reaction.
My mind raced, grappling with the intense emotions flooding through me.
I closed my eyes briefly, forcing a controlled breath through my nose, trying to regain my focus.
Oh, Claire. The things I would do to you. The things I would do for you.
If you had any idea, you would run away this very second.
But that cannot happen.
No.
I continued to watch her with intense scrutiny, noting the way her manicured fingers lightly traced the menu as it sat in front of her.
There was a subtle tension about her, a vulnerability that intrigued me, drawing me further into the web of her presence.
I could sense her mounting nervousness and a faint hint of fear, worsened by Antonio’s absence.
I knew that the longer he stayed away, the more those emotions would compound.
Would she recognize me the way I recognized her?
I cleared my throat, my voice smooth and composed despite the tumult within. I kept my eyes fixed firmly on the menu, avoiding direct eye contact as I spoke. “I recommend the merlot.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her head snap toward me.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
I raised my chin, meeting her gaze directly for the first time. There was an electric charge in the air between us, a tension that seemed to pulse with every beat of my heart.
“If you are looking for a wine.” I paused as her jaw dropped ever so slightly. “I recommend the merlot.” The corner of my lip curled up into a smirk as she blushed.
Claire hesitated, her eyes darting back to her menu as she attempted to compose herself, “Oh…the merlot. I’m sorry, I was a bit distracted,” she admitted, as she looked toward the host stand once more.
She picked up her phone from the table as she chewed on her bottom lip, checking for messages, I assumed.
I remained in my seat, a dark satisfaction settling over me. The game had begun, and I was ready to play.
“Have you been here before?” I questioned. My voice was nonchalant, but my eyes were keenly observant as I took in every part of her while she was distracted.
Claire’s response was a light, hesitant laugh. “Here? No, first time.”
“Well, welcome,” I said as a warm smile settled across my lips. My eyes, however, betrayed a more intense focus, the kind that could pierce through the superficial veneer of conversation.
Her gaze flickered nervously to the menu in her hands, a gesture that spoke volumes about her discomfort. She politely picked up the conversation where it had left off. “What about you?”
“Often,” I replied, leaning back slightly and letting my smile widen. “I do a bit of business here, so I am somewhat of a fixture.” My tone was easy, but underneath, I was acutely aware of every shift in her demeanor.
Just then, the waitress approached my table, her presence a brief but welcome distraction.
Before she could utter a word, I cut in, “I would like the merlot and whatever dish is the chef’s special.
” I kept my voice clipped and efficient, designed to brush her off before she could say anything that might reveal too much about me.
I need to keep Claire in the dark, for now.
The waitress nodded and took a few paces to the table next to mine, turning her attention to Claire. “For you, Miss?” she asked.
Claire paused before she offered her response through a strained smile. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be meeting someone here, but he seems to be running late. Let me just get a merlot for now.”
Claire’s eyes darted anxiously toward the entrance in a silent plea for Antonio that went unanswered. I clenched my jaw, willing myself to stay focused. I had to get her to forget about Antonio, or at least to give up on waiting for him.
I needed her full, complete attention.
Focus, Claire. Right here. No one else.
As the waitress walked away, Claire turned back to me, her forced smile betraying her as it cracked under her nervousness. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually talk to strangers.”
I offered her a reassuring smile, though my mind was anything but at ease. “Neither do I. But you looked like you could use a little company while you wait.”
Claire chuckled softly, her gaze lingering on the empty chair across from her. “I suppose I could. I’m Claire, by the way.”
A grin crept across my lips, my voice low and deep as I replied, “Pleasure to meet you, Claire.”
In that moment, as I met her eyes once more, I could not help but be met with a complex myriad of emotions. I did not know Claire Bailey as a woman, but I knew who she was supposed to be for me—what her purpose was for me and what my purpose was for her.
“So, you told the waitress you are meeting someone here?” I questioned, letting my voice glide smoothly over the words.
Claire’s fingers moved gracefully to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yes. I work for a wine distributor in New York. I’m supposed to be meeting with the winery manager, but he’s playing hard to get.” She laughed softly; a hint of irritation laced into the amusement.
A smirk played on my lips as I tried to soothe her. “That does happen from time to time in a popular place such as this, I suppose.”
The waitress returned, setting down two glasses of merlot, one in front of me and the other in front of Claire.
Claire took a sip as her eyes lit up with pleasure. “Wow, that’s excellent. Great recommendation!” She smiled at me, a fleeting moment of connection before her gaze dropped back to her wine.
My presence made her nervous; that much was obvious. The question was whether I made her nervous as a threat or a pleasure.
Smiling back, my eyes crinkled with warmth, but beneath the surface of my calm demeanor, a storm of intrigue raged.
The intensity of her presence was almost unbearable; each second with her pulled me deeper into a vortex of desire.
I wanted nothing more than to escape the crowded restaurant with her and to indulge in the pleasure of her proximity.
“Any other plans for your visit?” I asked, my eyes shifting to the painting of an Italian countryside on the wall.
Claire swallowed another sip of wine, her lips glistening as she spoke. “Not really. It’s a quick trip. I’m supposed to fly home tomorrow. If I don’t get to meet this man, the whole trip may have been in vain.”
“I doubt it,” I murmured, watching her intently. “Something wonderful might still come from your visit. Have you seen the beach yet?” I lifted my glass, savoring the smooth richness of the wine as it filled my mouth.
“No,” she replied, her voice tinged with regret. “I don’t think I’ll have time.”
“That is unfortunate.” My voice was almost a whisper. “You really should. There is something about it that may surprise you.”
The waitress glided back to our table as she set down the day’s special: a heaping plate of gnocchi, elegantly bathed in a rich butter and sage sauce, adorned with a delicate sprinkle of parmigiana, and topped with a pair of sage leaves.
The shallow plate looked like a masterpiece, as its buttery fragrance wafted through the air surrounding our tables.
Claire’s eyes locked onto the plate in front of me, widening with a mix of longing and admiration. “That looks amazing,” she said, her voice laced with genuine hunger as she glanced at my plate.
With a subtle wave of her hand, she caught the waitress’s attention. “Excuse me,” she said, her tone polite yet tinged with anticipation. “May I order the same, please?”
The waitress nodded and departed swiftly, leaving us momentarily in a quiet, expectant silence.
I inhaled deeply, savoring the burgeoning tension between us. “It seems a bit absurd to be sitting at two separate tables while having a conversation,” I remarked, my voice smooth and inviting. “Would you care to join me?”
Claire’s eyebrows arched in surprise as pink blush flooded her cheeks. “Oh…” She hesitated for a moment before her smile broadened as she moved to the seat directly in front of me, leaving her empty wine glass behind.
As she settled into the chair, the proximity between us became almost palpable. I could feel the urge within me intensified, every instinct screaming to bridge the distance between us. Her nearness was both addicting and excruciating, a delicious torment that I struggled to contain.
Claire, you may not realize this, but the only thing saving you is that we are in a room full of people—witnesses to whatever depravity would occur if my restraint were to break this very second.
I gestured subtly to a passing waiter, who quickly understood and returned with a fresh merlot for each of us.
As the rich, ruby-red liquid poured from the decanter, I could sense Claire’s curiosity and underlying nervousness.
Her gaze flitted between the waiter and me, and I allowed myself to momentarily look away, giving her the space to scrutinize me.
I hoped that her curiosity would deepen, drawing her further into the enigmatic charm I exuded.
Moments later, the waitress reappeared with Claire’s plate, identical to my own. I could not suppress a satisfied smile as I regarded the full spread.