Page 39 of Burn for Me

“How rude of me!” I half-grin and extend my hand, which Delilah shakes. Now, it’s Jasmine's turn to grip my wrist. “I apologize for not introducing myself properly. I’m Sam.”

She releases my hand and scoffs, tilting her nose at me, but I still haven’t received a proper response. “And you are?”

“Delilah,”

I Hum in response.” It’s assumed she was dishonorably discharged after sleeping with her married captain, Jonathan. Ironically, I've researched him more than I’d care to admit, and he’s never been married.

If their faction, Greenport, is anything like itusedto be, it’s another cover. Unlike Depth, which previously only protected the sea, and Bay, which only protected the land, Greenport has continuously operated by taking jobs no one else wants—either because they’re too dangerous or because they’d put too many at risk. This leads to their constant cover missions, which not only protect them and the few they might love but also plays a significant role in keeping the world in check.

Jasmine clears her throat as the waiter lays down meals I don't recall ordering. I flick my gaze to Jonathan, who raises an eyebrow in response.

“Complimentary from the owner. He tends to have a generous way of welcoming newcomers. Enjoy!” the waiter says, nodding before turning away.

Is this a threat?I know I'm not from this country, but judging by Jasmine's reaction to her meal, I have a strange feeling it’s not some sort of tradition.Think.

We could be compromised, and poisoning our meal is an easy way to take us out. We will raise alarms if we don't eat it and it's not tainted.

My hand tightens around Jasmine's thigh again, but this time, she doesn't jerk away or flinch. Instead, a smile crosses her mouth, and she digs her fork into the pasta and brings it to her nose. Delilah mimics the motion.

“Smells delicious, doesn't it?” Jasmine beams.

“Don't take a fuckin bite yet, just wait. I’m looking–”Caspian's words trail off with a keyboard clacking, but time is ticking, and we can only stall for so long.

Delilah gives Jasmine a bright smile, and the pasta is in their mouths in unison.I don't have a heart, do I?I think I may have one because I can't breathe while watching her jaw work.

“Bravetti owns the restaurant. Russian mob. Money laundering.”Caspian cracks through. I release Jasmine's thigh, ready to shove my fingers down her throat, but she squeezes my wrist in return while she finishes chewing and swallowing.

“You know the first word Sam ever said to me. It’s funny—completely contrasting how most love stories start.” Jasmine laughs, waving her fork, and I glance at her curiously. I don’t think‘hey’differs from how most people meet; I’m sure plenty of couples start that way.

“Test,” Jasmine says, laughing through another bite of food, and my brows furrow. Is she trying to distract me from her death wish? Not happening. I move again, and her nails dig into my skin, so I look at Johnathan, hoping for help. He’s either useless or has caught on to whatever is happening as he places a bite into his mouth and looks around the room.

“First word.”Tide hums in contemplation.

“I had made the bold statement to a close colleague that no one could put up with my sass. Little did I know my boss was behind me, and as I tried to backtrack, he cut me off with that word. I like to believe he was trying to say something like‘try me.’” Jasmine recounts an elaborate story that leaves me so lost that keeping a neutral expression is nearly impossible.

“It’s a test. Eat the damn food, Sam.”

“Is that what you were trying to say? I don't think I ever asked.” Jasmine looks at me with those innocent, beautiful big eyes, and everything seems to go still.

Shaking my head, I look away and place a bite in my mouth, chewing through my words, “I meant to say that you were testing my patience.”

“Office affairs are always tricky, but it looks like it worked out well for you two,” Jonathan nods in response. Her grin catches the corner of my eye as I swallow.He doesn’t even realize how well meeting her has worked for me, just like she doesn’t realize how utterly terrified I was for once in my life.

Fifteen

8-31-2024

Let men talk, but always listen.

-Jasmine

Isn’t it strange how a flame dances?

I finished my plate long ago but haven’t been able to focus on anything other than the daunting, horrifying, flickering ball of fire before me. My stomach feels exactly like the element: burning. It’s like I swallowed a match, and the acid didn’t extinguish the flame, so it’s resting against my internal walls—slowly eating through the organ until I feel I can cough out smoke.

The last time this happened, my family and I received a formal invitation to California for the grand opening of another Bravetti restaurant. The only difference is that complimentary sparkling waters were offered after our meal, and I felt better afterward. My mother was furious when I explained that the meal had made me sick, but I assured her that the'magic water'helped me feel better. Her anger wasn’t out of concern for my safety, but because I had said it so loudly, the neighboring booths turned to glance our way. My father took it as an opportunity to explain how things worked and what tests people had to go through forourlifestyle. I had already endured much tougher tests, so I felt proud that I passed this one so quickly. My mom didn’t appreciate that comment either.

I should have paid more attention to where we pulled up tonight; I could have warned everyone long before anything happened.

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