Page 72 of No Longer Mine

Was I really going to go?

I could lie to myself all night and say that I never wanted to see the man again. But… I did. And it was in a public area. Seemed pretty safe to me.

My eyes snagged on the mirror across from me and winced. I looked like a drowned rat…

Drowned fox.

Ugh. He was still in my head. I hoped going to this restaurant with him would finally get him out of my system because, Lord knew, the kiss hadn’t. All it had done was give me fantasies to work myself mad over in the middle of the night.

I clicked Cleo’s name on my phone. She was the only one who knew about the searing kiss in Dimitri’s bedroom. She was also one of my only friends…

“Yes?” She answered after the second ring.

“Dimitri asked me on a date.” My words came out rushed. Hell was flushed. I couldn’t believe what I was even saying. “I mean… I think he did. I’m not entirely sure.”

Cleo screeched into the phone like a wild maniac. “WHATTTTTT?”

I held the phone away from my ear and clicked it on speaker. “What do I do?”

“You obviously go.”

“But what if he wants to kill me?” I whispered mostly to myself.

“He wants to fuck you,” Cleo’s voice held exasperation. “Duh.”

“Okay, so what do I do?”

She laughed. “You fuck his lights out.”

Cleo coached me through getting ready in record time—thank goodness for a hairdryer and FaceTime. Without her, I would’ve been a lost cause. An hour later, I was stepping out of the car, smoothing my dress as I approached Sistina. I lived only five minutes from the restaurant, but I couldn’t risk it with the heels Cleo insisted on.

I took a deep breath before greeting the hostess with a polite smile. “Hi, I have a reservation under Dimitri Cristof?”

Her expression warmed. “He just arrived. Right this way.”

As I followed her to the back of the restaurant, I took in the towering windows, the intricate skylights, and the artwork that seemed to spill from the walls and ceiling—pieces suspended midair, catching the glow of the city lights beyond the glass. It was breathtaking. Did Dimitri have a thing for art, or was this all just meant to impress me?

Then I saw him.

Seated at the table, his gaze focused on the menu, he looked effortlessly put together—his hair slicked back, his crisp white sleeves rolled just past his elbows, revealing the sharp lines of his forearms. His suit jacket hung on the back of his chair, forgotten. He looked… relaxed. Almost unrecognizable.

The hostess slipped away, and as if sensing me, Dimitri lifted his head. His glacial eyes locked onto mine, pinning me in place. I felt frozen under his scrutiny.

“Scarlett,” he purred as his eyes tracked down my body. I couldn’t breathe under his stare. I quickly seated myself as his lips turned up in approval.

I didn’t think I could take my eyes off of him. I couldn’t focus on anything else. Several other women in the room felt the same way, as they also kept their gazes locked on him.

“You came,” he said, closing the menu and leaning back in his chair, studying me like I was the main course.

“I did,” I replied evenly, lifting my chin. “But I still don’t know why I’m here.”

Dimitri’s smirk deepened as he poured me a glass of wine from the bottle already on the table. “I wanted to see you.”

I nodded my head, unsure of how I would make it through this meal. “Yes, and now what?”

“Now we have dinner and we learn a little bit more about each other.”

I was going to be fighting for my life throughout the entire meal; I just knew it.

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