Chapter 9 #2
As if in response to my thoughts, my plate transformed with astonishing speed.
Italian pasta, Spanish charcuterie, French tartar.
The waiters, who had been three, now numbered more than ten.
They moved around us with the precision of circus gymnasts, juggling bottles, cutlery, and food, performing a complex dance to avoid collisions.
Enzo’s gaze softened.
“I’m just glad you accepted,” he said. “I’d have enjoyed this date anywhere, Vera.”
My heart jumped. We talked about everything from classes, colleagues, and the juiciest Cutnam gossip. Conversation flowed so easily with Enzo, and I caught myself dropping all guards. This felt right. I had every right to enjoy it.
Soon after, dessert arrived, accompanied by a dazzling light show that danced across the table. Enzo’s eyes widened as he abandoned a half-eaten pastry, his surprise turning into a shadow when his gaze searched for mine.
“Had you ever been here before?” he asked, intrigued.
The restaurant erupted. It’s the best way to describe it. Hidden LEDs shot beams of silver light across the room. The lights pierced through the glass, creating iridescent glints and acting as a diffuser, all in sync with piano music. A shiver ran down my spine.
“No, you?”
“This is my first time,” Enzo replied, a playful grin spreading across his face. “But I’m already considering a second visit, especially if you’re my date.”
I squeaked, unsure what to say.
Yes, I would like another date.
No, I can’t focus on that right now, and also no, I won’t be back here ever again.
But instead of replying to any of that, I focused on my surroundings.
The LEDs kept changing colours. From somewhere, a halo shot out, projecting a blue sky onto the ceiling, then a starry night. When the show ended, the lights returned to their usual colour. A man in a red apron approached our table.
“I hope you enjoyed the meal,” he said, placing a silver tray on the table. He uncovered it to reveal two steaming tall glasses. “This is a steamed strawberry mousse. The star dessert of The Big Mediterranean.”
My mouth fell open as the chef placed the dessert in front of me.
A swirl of pink shimmered under the low lights, topped with delicate whipped cream, plump strawberries, and tiny golden flakes that sparkled like they’d been dusted by hand.
I was too mesmerised by the sugary extravaganza to respond.
Enzo, ever the charmer, rescued me from my stupefied silence by thanking the chef on my behalf.
As soon as the chef departed, Enzo flashed me a grin. “You try it first; I’m not brave enough.”
To my surprise, the flowers on the plate were edible. Watching my reaction, Enzo, still nibbling on pastries and neglecting his mousse, slid his dessert toward me.
“I see you’re enjoying it, so here you go,” he said.
I plucked a flower from his dessert and popped it in my mouth.
“When else am I going to have the chance to eat flowers?” I mused, savouring its weird, fruity aftertaste.
Enzo wrinkled his nose. “So I was right, the change of place wasn’t just about the food, was it?”
I set my spoon down, the clink against the plate cutting through the playful atmosphere. “What do you mean?” My voice came out sharper than I intended.
His gaze was steady, probing. “Let’s be honest, Vera. Something must have happened that made you want to bring me here.” His hand found mine. “And you seem a bit on edge. I guess what I’m trying to say is… I’m worried. You don’t seem yourself.”
His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that felt like a spotlight.
Could I trust him with the truth? He knew me well—at least well enough to see right through me, and my heartbeat raced at the thought.
Enzo’s head tilted, as if he could sense my hesitation. I wondered what he’d think if I let him in on the real story—what he might say, or how it might change things.
It was my turn to play.
“Alright,” I pulled my hand away from his and held up a finger. “I’m giving you one chance to guess the real reason I brought you here.”
“Just one?”
“Yes,” I declared, crossing my arms over my chest. “Or do you need more?”
Enzo’s eyes lit up at the prospect of a challenge. He leaned forward and lowered his voice, adopting a quiet tone.
“What do I win if I get it right?”
It was impossible for him to guess. What kind of sane person would figure out what had happened to me? I felt confident. I had money, a mystery to solve, and Enzo’s gaze had drifted to my cleavage at least three times in the last five minutes, which meant I also had the man.
“Anything you want.”
My confidence seemed to encourage him rather than scare him. Without breaking eye contact, he signalled for one of the waitresses to come over. The woman leaned in, and Enzo whispered something in her ear. She returned with a piece of paper and a pen.
“What’s that for?”
“You wouldn’t want me to reveal your secret out loud, would you?” He started writing.
He folded the paper in half and handed it to me.
I unfolded it.
Coming here wasn’t your choice.
“Is this my secret?” I scoffed.
Enzo seemed pleased with himself.
“You tell me. Is it?”
I crumpled the paper into a ball and played with it between my fingers.
Enzo wasn’t entirely wrong. The truth was, I had a very limited time to spend the money, and it forced me to act in a specific way.
It made me choose options I wouldn’t have otherwise considered, to adapt my plans to fit a lifestyle capable of burning through a lot of cash in no time.
“Not entirely,” I conceded, “but you’re on the right track.”
“So, have I won?”
“No.”
He scooped some whipped cream from the edge of his dessert, now mine, and popped it into his mouth.
“If I’d known you’d be so tough, I wouldn’t have given you my mousse.”
He got a laugh out of me.
“Alright.” I tossed the paper ball back at him. “Tell me why you think it wasn’t my choice. This time, you have to get it right.”
He mirrored my gesture: leaning back, arms crossed over his chest, and pondered his answer.
The sharp back of the chair jutted above his head, making it look like a crystal crown on his dark hair.
The lights danced on his skin. For a moment, I hoped he’d get it right and thought he might. Then he spoke.
“You lost a bet.”
I shook my head.
“It seems you’re the one who lost.”
He tossed the paper ball back to me, and as I raised my hand to catch it, he took the opportunity to grasp my hand in his.
“I’m still winning here.” He smiled with his eyes.
My blood raced inside my veins. So what if Enzo hadn’t guessed right? The instructions didn’t say anything about telling someone else, right? Gina already knew, for heaven’s sake.
“I…” I began.
Enzo leaned closer, his smile fading. “Is everything alright? I was just kidding, I didn’t mean to…”
Damn it. My face was a terrible liar, spilling every secret I tried to hide. I squeezed his hand, feeling the heat of his fingers against mine. The contact sent a jolt through me, and I kept whispering to myself: so what? So what if I tell him the truth?
“Promise me you won’t freak out.”
My lips tasted of blood. I bite them when I’m nervous.
“I promise.”
I let go of his hand and clasped my own under the table. A bit of self-encouragement never hurt anyone.
“Alright…”
I spilled everything in a rush, a jumble of disconnected words and fragmented phrases that I hoped Enzo could piece together.
“I’mtrappedinthecycleofnightsandmorningsandIhavetospendallthemoneyinthreedaysunderthreatofcompletedestructionofmycareer.” Oh, and: “Idon’thaveacluewho’sdoingthisorwhy.”
Phew.
Enzo’s eyes widened as if he’d seen a ghost, but he regained his calm look fast, clearing his throat.
“What’s your plan now?” he asked, once the shock had worn off.
He swept a hand through his hair, pushing a stray lock off his forehead, and leaned in, elbows propped on the table. The subtle shift in his posture was magnetic, pulling me closer as if his presence alone could give me a solution.
“For now,” I said, rising with a graceful stretch, “I’m paying for this lunch.” I slipped my coat on, letting it settle over my shoulders with a touch of drama. “Shall we? I’ve got to work this afternoon.”
We stepped out into the crisp air, and Enzo, ever the charmer, suggested, “What about a casino? People lose fortunes there. It could be our jackpot.”
He held my purse, a casual gesture that hinted at more. I fumbled with my coat, noting how he braved the cold without so much as a shiver. His nonchalance was almost intoxicating.
“I don’t want to draw attention to myself,” I said, reclaiming my purse with a swift motion.
Enzo continued, his voice playful yet tinged with an undercurrent of something more intense. “And what if…”
“Don’t even think about suggesting I blow it all on drugs,” I cut him off, my tone sharp but laced with a hint of challenge.
Enzo raised both hands in mock surrender, his eyes twinkling. “I wasn’t thinking of that!” he said, but then his arm extended, fingers curling gently around my wrist. “Vera, do you trust me?”
I met his gaze, feeling that familiar flutter in my stomach.
Even without the restaurant’s elaborate lighting, the intensity in his eyes was undeniable, drawing me in.
Trusting him was a gamble, but there was an instinctive pull that nudged me toward him.
We’d known each other long enough for me to believe in that unspoken connection.
“Yes,” I answered, the word almost a whisper.
“Then hand over one of those bundles of cash,” Enzo said, his voice low and inviting.
I handed it over. What was I going to do, run off with it? All yours. I didn’t want it.
Instead, Enzo examined it, focusing on the bluish band that held it together.
“I saw you pull this out earlier and… Well, I noticed this.” He pointed to it. “It’s a logo. Club Montari. Have you ever been there?”
Club Montari.
“No.”
“Are you free tonight, or do you plan to work late?”
I thought for a moment. André’s trial on Monday was crucial for my career. A career that would end if I didn’t solve this million-pound issue.
“My boss has a big trial on Monday, and I’m his assistant,” I admitted, letting concern seep into my words. “The Counterfeiter, quite a famous case. Does it ring a bell?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t watch the news, but… Come on, Vera… Can you spare some time to unwind?”
“Alright,” I said after a pause. “Just a few hours.”
A broad smile parted his face.
“Great, because I think I can help you. Meet me tonight.” His proximity made the steam from his breath mingle with mine. Then he added, with a hint of pleading, “Please.”
“Where is this club?”
“I’ll send you a message later with the location and time.”
Enzo took a step back, releasing my hand but lifting it to his lips for a chaste kiss.
“I had a great time,” he said, avoiding looking at me. Then he let go of my hand and walked away. “See you later, Miss Assistant.”