Page 138 of Unholy Union
I’m the one who raises my brows at him this time. “You really think I wouldn’t figure it out?”
When he still pretends like he doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about, sipping from the amber liquid that’s his Amaro, I answer for him.
“Tonight is the real date,” I say. “Six months ago tonight, Cato. You said we were having the dinner with everyone else over the weekend because it was easier. But that was just an excuse. Tonight’s therealnight it makes six months for us.”
He sets down his glass, pinning me with an unapologetic stare. “So I wanted my wife to myself on a night like tonight. Is that a crime?”
“No,” I answer. “It’s not a crime. But itisvery romantic.”
My husband’s a man who doesn’t emote often, even in the heat of the moment. Even in anger, at times he can be restrained and act more out of cold fury than unbridled emotion he can’t contain. But as I make my soft, teasing accusation, humor flickers in his dark gaze and he reaches for my hand, scooping it up.
“It looks like I’ve been caught red-handed. Too bad I don’t give a fuck.”
He leans over to plant a kiss on my lips that sends a pleasant warm wave through me.
The server returns only a moment later to refill our glasses and deliver the focaccia as promised.
The crispy golden bread is fresh from the oven and coated with olive oil and flecks of rosemary. I break off a piece andwatch how the crackly texture gives way to the pillowy warmth on the inside.
Dipping it in the whipped ricotta they served on the side makes me moan.
Cato’s torn a piece for himself, nodding his head in approval.
We enjoy ourselves like this, sipping our drinks and indulging in the fresh warm bread as our dinner conversation continues.
“You’ll be thrilled to know that collector from Munich asked about you today.”
I swallow my latest bite of bread and blink at him. “Seriously? Still? That Anselm guy?”
He nods, grabbing his glass of Amaro and swirling it so the ice clatters. “Since that Grimm’s deal went through for the second editions, he’s been reaching out nonstop. Apparently, you’ve got him under your spell.”
“I have no idea why. That deal was months ago.”
“I know exactly why. It’s the same reason it always is. So I finally responded.”
I narrow my eyes. “Oh no. What did you do?”
“I told him we won’t be working with him again.”
My jaw drops mid-sip of my tea. “You did what? That was a lucrative deal. They were good clients to work with.”
“We have many lucrative deals and good clients, Sabrina. You forget ones like that are just for show anyway? It’s all a front for what’s really going on.”
“Those were second edition Grimm’s Fairytales, Cato. Do you know how rare those books were?”
He shrugs, completely unfazed. “So’s your time. So’s your face. And you. I’m not in the business of renting any of those things out to men who don’t know how to be professional.”
I let out an exasperated huff and fold my arms across my chest, glaring at him across the table. “Do you really think you can always get your way just because you run the city?”
He cocks his head, eyes gleaming. “Do you really thinkyoucan always get your way just because you’re cute as hell when you’re mad?”
“Maybe if I’m stubborn enough…”
His gaze darkens, his voice lowering. “And that’s exactly why I find you so fucking sexy… and what makes me want to do very dirty things to you under this damn table.”
“You know that’s never stopped me from mouthing off before.”
“Wait ’til we get home, principessa.I’ve got something to stuff between those pouty lips of yours. We’ll see if you’re still mouthing off then.”
