Page 165 of The Dragon 2
“Not with them, but. . .” I met her gaze. "with you. . .I do want to share, so give me my points back.”
“Earn them.”
I sneered, but it was playful. “You will be the first woman to walk through my halls. The first to sleep in my bed.”
She swallowed, and I knew she had been unprepared for my confession. “That can’t be true.”
“But it is.”
“How could that be?”
“Because I had other places.”
“Hmmm.” She tilted her head and appeared to be assessing me. “In a way. . .that’s oddly fascinating. Philosophically, it makes sense.”
“What makes sense?”
“You’re not having women coming to your mansion. You probably don’t let people into your space because you don’t want them to see your cracks."
"Or touching them."
"Exactly."
“And more. . .I don’t want themjudgingthe cracks. Whereas. . .I don’t thinkyouwould judge them. Maybe that’s why. . .now I only want to share my place with you."
“Hmmm.” Her lips parted just slightly, like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to smile or speak.
Soon, the music shifted again—this time to a richer groove, thick with bass and silk.
The waitresses returned, gliding in like ghosts. Each carried a single jet-black bowl and placed them in front of us.
Steam rose from each one.
The smell hit me first—creamy, briny, with something citrus-laced floating beneath the surface.
I stared into the bowl.
It was some sort of thick, pinkish liquid. A luxurious topping of some sort of cream spiraled in the center. Flecks of green and red floated at the surface like scattered confetti.
I inhaled and caught the scent of crab. “What is this?”
Nyomi smirked and folded her arms like she was about to lay down a parable. “Our second course is Low Country She-Crab Bisque with Coconut Cream and Yuzu Zest.”
“That sounds delicious.”
“It was the first real dish I ever made for my grandmother and parents. I was so proud. You know. . .I planned on being a chef. . .long ago. I had applied to culinary schools and everything.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And what happened?”
“The Feds came into our house, turned up all of our stuff, and arrested my father. Then. . .” she shrugged. “Life changed. All of our accounts were frozen. We lived with my grandmother and although I cooked. . .reading and writing was the only thing thatreally. . .kept me calm.”
“And that’s how you became a writer?”
“Yeah. But anyway. . .enough on my father and that craziness. . .” she shook her head. “This bisque is made with lump crab, coconut cream, and a kiss of yuzu zest.”
“A kiss?”
“Just enough to make you sit up and pay attention.” She winked.
