Page 210 of Off the Pitch

“We are,” I said. “Follow me.”

“Are you counting cocktails as food?”

“No! I promised you dinner, and you’re going to get it.”

“Promises, promises,” Jordan teased, sliding his fingers into mine as the two burly security men on the door waved us through. I swallowed, momentarily caught off guard. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had wanted to hold my hand. Well, someone who wasn’t Lara or Sophia. It was the sweet casualness of the gesture that threw me—the fact that he just wanted to be close to me, even though we were in public and someone could see. Not that anyone was looking. The bar was packed and dark, neon lights behind the bar illuminating the bartenders with an ominous glow.

I pulled Jordan through the crowd, heading for a corner at the back of the room. There was a man leaning against the wall.

“Is Raphael in?” I asked.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Sadly not, but if you could tell him Félix Trossero is here, that would be very kind of you.” The man grunted and rattled off something into a walkie talkie that he’d pulled from his belt. Then he nodded and pushed the door beside him open.

“Okay, I’m all for cool shit, but why does it feel like you’re taking me to a murder dungeon?” Jordan asked, as we descended a warmly lit staircase. “Or is it some kinky sex dungeon instead? Am I going to need a safeword?”

“Don’t be a brat.” I turned and smirked at him as we reached the bottom of the stairs. I put my hand across the wall, caging him against it and leaning in to whisper against his ear. “You’ll get yourself into trouble.”

“You know, you’re always saying things like that. You seem to think it’s going to put me off.” Jordan turned his head, his lips meeting mine in a teasing kiss. “Stop making delicious promises you don’t keep.”

“Well, if you feel like that,” I murmured, my other hand wrapping around his waist and pulling him close to me. “I’ll start keeping them”

Jordan raised an eyebrow, lips quirked in a challenging smile. “I look forward to it.” He kissed me again, and one kiss quickly became more. A small part of me wished I’d just taken him home and ordered a takeaway. At least then I could have fucked him quickly while we waited and soothed the need bubbling under my skin.

Jordan put his hand on my chest, gently easing me away, looking completely unaffected. “But first, you promised me dinner, and all I see so far is the road to a creepy basement. Have you not seen any horror movies?”

“Plenty,” I said, as my heartbeat began to return to normal. I started down the short corridor towards the front door of Raphael’s. The walls slowly turned from black into a rainbow of colour, the floor laid with red tiles. I watched Jordan’s face, noting the surprise, and it made my heart bounce.

As we reached the door at the end, I heard music and the soft hustle and bustle of the restaurant, but before I could put my hand out to knock, the door swung open revealing the amused face of Raphael.

“You know, it’s not polite to make out outside my restaurant, Mr. Trossero, especially when I’ve squeezed a table in for you specially.” Raphael was smirking, his eyes dancing with mischief. He was shorter than both of us, dressed in the blacks of front of house, his black hair expertly styled and silver rings decorating his fingers.

“My apologies, Mr. Santana. I didn’t know we were keeping you waiting,” I said, trying to hide my smile.

“You’re such an idiot.” Raphael pulled me into a hug. “Remind me why I always let you in?”

“It’s because I’m charming and you fed me once, so unfortunately you’re never getting rid of me.”

“You’re like the worst kind of puppy.” Raphael turned to Jordan, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m Raphael. It’s nice to meet you. I thought I’d introduce myself since this idiot forgot.”

“I’m Jordan,” he said, taking Raphael’s offered hand. “And I’m gonna be honest, I have no idea where I am.”

“Perfect!” Raphael said, looking like all his birthdays had come at once. He loved to show off the restaurant to new diners. It was his life, and he cherished sharing it with people. “Do you like Mexican?”

“Who doesn’t?” Jordan glanced at me with amusement.

“Even better. Come with me.” Raphael pushed the restaurant door open, revealing the interior in its full glory. It was a small room with exposed brick and teal walls covered in bold artwork that leapt out of every canvas and frame. There were a mixture of tables crammed into the space, each one covered in food and surrounded by happy diners, all chatting and laughing while wait staff in black wove their way between them. Bold, upbeat music poured out of the speakers, mixing with the sounds of the crowd and the noise of the kitchen, which had an open window overlooking the restaurant. The smells that flowed out of it had my mouth watering, and I hadn’t realised how hungry I was. I’d barely had anything to eat since I’d landed, just a couple of macaroons and some dates that the hotel had left on the welcoming plate in my room.

“Oh my fucking God,” Jordan said, his words coming out low and startled. He turned to me and grinned as Raphael gestured for us to follow him. “This is so much better than a sex dungeon.”

I laughed all the way to the table Raphael had set aside for us, tucked into a back corner where nobody would see us. It was perfect. Jordan took the seat in the corner that would let him look at the restaurant, and I took the one facing the wall. Not that I was going to look at it. Jordan was far, far more interesting.

“What would you like to drink?” Raphael asked, giving us a smile. Jordan ordered a beer, and I asked for the same, despite the fact that it wasn’t usually my thing. “Perfect. Now, don’t worry about food, I’ll bring you the best. Do you have any allergies?” he asked Jordan, ignoring me, and I shook my head.

“Strawberries,” Jordan said. “I know it’s a weird one, but they make my mouth go all fuzzy.”

“No worries. I’ll send your food out shortly.”

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