Page 46 of Take Me Under

I closed my eyes and imagined myself on Anton’s arm, strolling into a restaurant with him—a red skirt hugging my hips and the ruby necklace resting just above my breasts, gleaming like a secret only I knew. Perhaps Caterina was right.

“Maybe I should wear it,” I murmured.

“You’ll look amazing, trust me,” she said, triumph in her voice. “Anton Romano won’t know what hit him.”

Her confidence was infectious, and after I hung up the phone, I found myself eyeing the ruby necklace I’d worn to the gala. Maybe it would give me the confidence I needed to be bold—to be the woman in the flames as Anton had suggested.

Perhaps tonight wasn’t just about a business proposal and dinner, and more about embracing the fire he ignited in me—and if I was going to play with fire, I had damn well better dress for an inferno.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Serena

Asleek, black Volvo SUV pulled up to the curb, its dark windows reflecting the setting sun and city lights. I smoothed down the red skirt and black satin tank top I’d purchased that afternoon from the consignment shop. Nerves and anticipation tingled in my stomach as I stepped out of the hotel lobby, the cool evening air brushing my bare shoulders.

I had expected Anton to emerge from the vehicle, his usual confidence on full display, but when the door opened, it wasn’t his face I saw. A driver I didn’t recognize came around the car.

He stood a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, the sharp lines of his suit doing nothing to hide the solid frame beneath. His hair was dark but just beginning to gray at the temples, a subtle sign of experience rather than age. Broad shoulders, a strong jaw, and eyes that missed nothing made him look like a man who had spent years standing between danger and the people who paid him.

He offered me a stiff nod.

“Serena Martinelli?” he asked, his expression carefully neutral.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“My name is Zeke Kristof. I’m here to take you to Mr. Romano. Right this way, please.”

Disappointment flickered through me, sharper than I wanted to admit. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted Anton’s onyx gaze on me. I loved the way his eyes lingered just long enough, even if it made me feel ambiguous in a maddening sort of way.

Zeke opened the back door, and I climbed into the car. Settling back against the buttery leather seats, I absently stared out at the buildings as Zeke merged into the traffic. The quiet purr of the engine and the smooth glide of the SUV should have been calming, but my pulse only quickened as I began thinking about the whole purpose of this dinner tonight.

Anton said he wanted a month with me, but he’d also hinted at an alternative option. I didn’t know what it might be, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was all a game to him—keeping me waiting, letting the anticipation build until I didn’t know whether I was more frustrated or turned on by his machinations.

So lost in thought, I hadn’t realized we’d arrived at our destination until Zeke climbed out of the Volvo. He rounded the vehicle to open my door, his movements crisp and professional.

“Ma’am,” he said politely, offering a hand to help me out. I accepted it, letting him guide me to the curb.

I looked up as Zeke escorted me to the main entrance of the restaurant.Krystina’s Placearched in an elegant font over the door. I took a deep breath, my nerves tightening with every step. I didn’t know what to expect once inside.

Would Anton be there to greet me?

Or would I sit alone at a table waiting for him to appear?

A little voice in my head whispered that this was stupid, and I shouldn’t be here. I wasn’t even sure why I’d agreed to thisnight in the first place. When I thought back, I was pretty sure I hadn’t. Yet, somehow, here I was. This was more than just dinner with an insanely handsome and wealthy man—it was the dance, the chase, the electric tension that had me craving more, even when I knew I should be guarding everything that I was.

Once I was inside, Zeke retreated to the vehicle and I was left alone. Looking around, I took stock of my surroundings. The restaurant was all polished mahogany wood with low, amber lighting. The only sounds were the murmur of voices blending with subtle piano music and the soft clink of glassware. The air was thick with the rich scent of truffle oil, garlic, and fresh bread. The vibe was luxury layered with just a hint of intimacy.

“May I help you?”

I refocused my attention on the attractive man standing before me. He had olive skin and thick dark hair. His smile was easy, but there was mischief in his eyes that added to his devilishly handsome appearance.

“Um, yes. My name is Serena Martinelli. I’m here to meet?—”

“Yes, yes,” he interrupted. “I am Matteo Donati, the restaurant owner. Pleased to meet you. Your dining partner is expecting you. Please follow me.”

I frowned.

Dining partner?

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