Page 31 of I Would Beg For You

“What’s funny?” Naomi asks.

“Nothing,” I reply with a shake of my head. “I should feed you.”

I’m tempted to laugh again when Naomi blinks at me like that’s not what she expected to hear.

“What did you think?” I ask. “I did ask you over for dinner.”

“Oh.”

She looks so crestfallen. She must’ve thought she’d be on the menu tonight. It is the case, but I can’t resist teasing her right now.

“Dinner, Naomi. Usually involves food. The kind you eat.”

“I know that, dumbass.”

The insult makes me throw my head back and laugh. She’s not afraid of me, and I like this. It’ll be fun, being with her.

I pull a chair for her at the wood farm table. “Sit down.”

She still looks a little miffed as she takes her seat and I push the chair in. As I turn towards the oven, something makes me stop.

I move back to Naomi. “I didn’t think to ask. You’re not a vegetarian or a vegan, are you?”

She shakes her head. “No. I eat everything. Well, everything but liver.”

I laugh at the grimace she makes. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that. Liver piccata or fegato alla Veneziana?” I kiss my fingers in a chef’s kiss, laughing even more at the face she now makes.

“Is that what you’re serving tonight?” She gulps.

I’m tempted to say yes, but best I put her out of her misery. “Don’t worry. I won’t ever make you eat liver if you don’t want to.”

“So, you’ll only feed me what I want?” she asks, and the minx licked her lips as she said that.

My turn to gulp. “What do you want to eat tonight?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Something with eggplant…”

Merda, did she just…? Fuck. I really am playing with fire here. It’s only years of training myself to not lose my composure outwardly that allow me to keep myself in check.

I turn towards the oven and reach for the mittens. “Well, you are getting parmigiana tonight, but it’s chicken, I’m afraid.”

When I settle the plates on the table, she blinks up at me.

“I asked you over for dinner,” I say again.

Still with the blinking. Really, I should stop teasing her.

“But you can choose dessert,” I say, and curse softly when her eyes grow hooded as she looks up from the plate at me. “Now eat. Ina will have my hide if we don’t eat this when it’s still hot. Don’t ask me how she’ll know if we don’t, but she will.”

Naomi laughs as she unfolds her napkin. “You sound scared of her.”

I take a bite of crumbly chicken and savor the taste. “I am.”

“Who is she? Your housekeeper?”

“Something like that. She stepped in to look after us after…”

“After your mom…” she says softly, and I nod.

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