20. Vera #2
The tiramisu arrives, one plate, two forks.
He slides it between us without asking. We eat from opposite sides.
At the next table, a couple leans toward each other over their wine.
The older man two tables down laughs at something his companion says, while the waiter moves through the room with practiced quiet.
Kane’s lips close around the fork, and an ache settles low in my chest, different from want, though not entirely.
That’s when I know I’m in trouble. Not the bad kind. The kind where you realize how much you have to lose.
I need to do something with this feeling before it decides for me.
I pick up my fork. Take another bite.
“This is perfect.”
“The tiramisu?”
“Everything. This.” I gesture around us. “You. Being here with you like this.”
His expression softens. “I’m glad I called in that favor.”
“Me too.” I take another bite, let the sweetness melt on my tongue. “Although...”
His eyes sharpen slightly. “Although?”
I tilt my head, studying him across the table. “You’re being very well-behaved tonight.”
The air between us changes — a narrowing, a focused heat where there was warmth before.
“Is that a complaint?” He sets his wine glass down, deliberately slow — the kind of slow that means he’s choosing not to react.
“An observation.” I lean forward slightly, giving him a better view. “Very gentlemanly. Very proper. Very... restrained.”
“Vera.” There’s warning in his tone now.
“What?” I drag my foot slowly up his calf under the table. Watch his jaw tighten, a muscle jumping. “I’m saying, I appreciate the romance. The perfect dinner. The vulnerability. But part of me wonders...”
“Wonders what?”
“How long before you stop pretending to be civilized.” I reach across and straighten his tie, slow, unnecessary. “And let the Dom come out to play.”
The muscle in his jaw tightens. Once.
I let my fingers trail down the tie and drop away. Then pick up my wine, hold his gaze, and take a slow sip.
His hand shoots across the table and catches my wrist — not hard, firm, a grip that knows exactly what it’s doing. Around us the restaurant carries on, candlelight and quiet conversation, no one looking.
“You’re treading dangerous ground.”
“Am I?” I don’t pull away. My pulse is already loud in my ears. “We’re in public, Kane. What are you going to do about it?”
His eyes go still. Everything else has been set aside. “Keep testing me and you’ll find out.”
“Is that a threat?” I tilt my head. “Because you’ve been so well-behaved all evening. I’m starting to wonder if I imagined the other version of you entirely.”
His grip shifts. Thumb pressing once against the inside of my wrist, right where my pulse is.
“Last warning.” Low, just for me. “Behave. Or I promise you, the second we’re alone, you’ll spend the rest of the night remembering exactly who you’re dealing with.”
“The rest of the night?” I raise an eyebrow. “That’s very confident for a man eating tiramisu.”
He leans forward. His eyes don’t leave mine.
“I’m a patient man.” A pause. “I’ll take my time. I’ll be very thorough.” His thumb moves again, just slightly, against my wrist. “And you’ll ask me very nicely before I give you anything at all.”
My thighs clench under the table.
“Maybe I’ve been thinking about exactly that all through dinner.” The next word forms deliberately, quiet, here in this restaurant with its white linen and its candlelight. “Sir.”
Dark satisfaction. Danger. Promise. The Dom, fully present now, wearing the suit like a costume over something far less civilized.
“Excuse me.” I pull my wrist free, grab my clutch, stand. “Restroom.”
His gaze tracks me as I walk away.
The bathroom is empty, nothing but someone’s perfume still lingering in the air. I run cold water over my wrists and look at myself in the mirror. Lipstick slightly smudged. Cheeks flushed. Eyes bright with a feeling I’m actively refusing to name.
We were doing so well. That’s the problem, isn’t it.
Two courses in and I’d stopped managing.
I was just — there, at that table, watching him talk about his dead father and his leaking doghouse, and everything in my chest had gone so soft and so loud at the same time that I needed to act immediately or I was going to say something I couldn’t take back.
So I did what I always do when feelings get too large and too honest and too close to the surface.
I made it into something I knew how to handle.
I pull out my phone. Not because I’ve decided anything. Because my hands need somewhere to go.
Me: You look very handsome tonight.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Gerald: Thank you. You look beautiful.
Me: The suit is exceptional. Did you choose it for tonight specifically?
Gerald: I did.
Me: Thoughtful. Very gentlemanly of you.
A pause. Longer than the others.
Gerald: Why do I feel like that’s not a compliment.
Me: It’s absolutely a compliment. I’ve been thinking about it all through dinner, actually. How perfectly it fits. How the fabric pulls across your shoulders when you reach for your wine.
Gerald: Vera.
Me: How much I want to ruin it.
No response.
The silence from him is louder than anything he could have typed. I know what it means. I know exactly what it means.