Page 15 of Six
“It’s been two weeks, Ambrose. If you had your way, the club and I would be in here every night,” she said with a light laugh.
“And I would be honored if you were,” the man replied.
“And bankrupt,” Violetta added with another laugh. “Ambrose, this is Gavin Cooper,” she said, stepping aside and gesturing to him. Gavin took the older man’s hand and didn’t miss how Ambrose sized him up.
Then, casting Violetta a curious look, he spoke. “I booked your usual table, but I could move you to the patio or somewhere…else.”
Violetta offered the man a grateful smile. “The usual table would be perfect.”
Ambrose’s eyebrows shot up and although he held his tongue, his gaze darted back to Gavin in question. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Ambrose knewsomethingof Violetta’s other life and now understood that Gavin was also somehow a part of that.
As they made their way to a table in the back corner, Violetta waved to a young man sitting at the bar then to a couple cuddled side by side in a booth on the other side of the pub. He didn’t know why, but her openness, her friendliness, surprised him. Not that she wasunfriendlyat work, but she certainly never went out of her way to make friends in the office. Then again, if he led the life she led for the number of years she had, it was probably much simpler to keep her private life just that, private.
“The usual?” Ambrose asked Violetta once she’d taken her seat. Violetta nodded. “And you, sir?” he asked, turning to Gavin.
“What’s your usual?” he asked Violetta.
“An IPA from a Vermont brewer that’s just across the border. It’s hoppy, so if you don’t like hops, I’d pass.”
Honestly, being British, he wasn’t a huge fan of the American-style hoppy beers. But there was a subtle challenge in her words. She’d assimilated to the US, could he?
“I’ll have the same, then,” he said to Ambrose, who nodded, then disappeared.
“You come here a lot?” he asked, handing a menu over to her though he suspected she wouldn’t need it.
She inclined her head. “Ambrose is a good friend, and while there are a lot of very good restaurants in town, no one does comfort food quite like he does.”
He arched a brow. “Are you feeling the need for some comfort food?”
Her gaze drifted toward the bar behind him. She’d taken the seat with her back to the wall, leaving her with a full view of the restaurant. He didn’t enjoy not being able to see what was happening behind him. But while he didn’t think she’d intentionally set out to test him, he could use the situation to show her that he trusted her enough to watch his back. At least he hoped that she would.
“Violetta?” he asked, drawing her attention to him. For the first time since she’d stepped out of her car, he noticed the worry in her eyes. He didn’t think he was the cause, and he wondered if she’d learned something about the two people in the vehicle from the night before.
She shook her head. “I apologize, I’m distracted. As for comfort food, yes, I do need it. I just lost a friend, and the little escapade last night erased any doubt I had that he was murdered. The police disagree, though. It isn’t going to be a pretty next few weeks as I convince them otherwise.”
He inclined his head. “Fair enough. Do you want to talk about it?”
“About Jeremy? No,” Violetta said. They paused their conversation when Ambrose brought their drinks.
“Do you need a few minutes, or would you like to order now?” Ambrose asked.
Violetta flashed a brilliant smile, one that had Gavin blinking. He’d seen her smile and laugh with colleagues, but he hadn’t realized how restrained those interactions were until this moment. Because the smile she’d given was big, genuine, and filled with a warmth and a humor he hadn’t expected.
With an internal sigh, he acknowledged he was done for. As in, off the market for good—not that he was ever really on the market, but to the extent he had been, he wasn’t anymore. He wanted Violetta. He wanted that smile. He wanted to know what else about her changed when she truly let her guard and walls down. And he wanted to be the man who earned that privilege.
He wondered if his superiors had contemplated this scenario and came to the quick conclusion they hadn’t. The man she’d called Franklin might have. On the day Gavin had been issued his new orders, he’d been the only person in the room who knew Violetta Salvitto. To everyone else, she’d been just another op. And no doubt, his superiors were just waiting for the day when MI6 would recall him, and they could check the box on this joint MI6 and British Army cooperative effort.
But was that what he wanted?
“Gavin?” Violetta asked.
He blinked, and his gaze bounced between his dinner companion and the restaurateur. They both looked at him expectantly.
“Sorry, woolgathering. Was there a question?” he asked.
Violetta frowned, but picked up her menu. “Do you know what you want to eat?”
“What are you having?” he asked.
