Page 64 of The Colour of Revenge
"You're awfully quiet," she says after a moment, not looking up.
“I’m focusing.”
She hums, unconvinced. "You sure you're not just nervous?"
I scoff. "Of you? Never."
Her lips twitch. "Oh? So, you weren't just staring at me like you forgot how to function a few minutes ago?"
I grip the wheel tighter. "Bold accusation. Any evidence?"
"Plenty." She finally looks up, eyes glinting with mischief. "Lucky for you, I'm feeling generous tonight."
By some miracle, we arrive only slightly late. I'd booked a table at a sleek Italian place near Hyde Park—not because I think Carina needs fancy treatment, but because I wanted to make an effort. She'd probably be just as happy with greasy fast food but impressing someone over a bucket of fried chicken didn't feel like a solid strategy.
The hostess seats us in the booth I requested—tucked in the back, private, and with just enough room for me to sit beside her instead of across. Carina slides in without comment, but I don't miss the slight lift of her brow.
"This is nice," she says, settling against the plush leather.
"Only the best for you, my Queen." My tone is teasing, but I mean every word.
She rolls her eyes, but there's warmth there. The kind I want to pull closer.
“You know,” Carina teases, a smile tugging at her lips, “you could’ve just taken me to Maccies again.”
Knew it. “I know,” I reply, my mouth twitching into a grin.
The waitress arrives with menus and a wine list, her attention locked on me.
"What can I get you both to drink, sir?"
I don't even glance at the menu. Instead, I tip my head toward Carina. "I don't know. Why don't you ask the boss?"
The waitress hesitates, eyes flicking to Carina like she only now realises she exists. "I… I… What can I get you?"
Carina doesn't hesitate. "We'll take a bottle ofAlto-Adige, Pinot Bianco, 'Vorberg'.” Her flawless Italian rolls off her tongue like a silk ribbon, effortlessly smooth. She adds a polite, “2022. Please,” and flashes the waitress a wink, leaving the poor woman even more flustered.
I barely catch the price tag before the menu disappears. Two hundred quid. I manage not to choke. Jesus.
Carina turns to me, smirking in full force. "Did you just hand over control of a situation?"
"Don't get used to it," I reply, grinning. "But I'll admit, watching her short-circuit was fun."
She clicks her water glass against mine. "To making people uncomfortable."
"To you looking devastatingly hot and making my life difficult," I counter.
Her laugh is warm and effortless. And for the first time tonight, I might survive this date.
"You're fluent in Italian, I'm guessing?" I keep my tone casual.
Carina shrugs. "Had to learn fast. It helped that my grandfather was Italian, but I only spoke the basics. Once I lived there, I had no choice."
Her fingers idly trace the condensation on her water glass, and I watch the slow, absent-minded movement.
She glances up at me, the corner of her lips lifting. "It's handy when you want to seduce someone."
I huff a laugh, but something tightens in my chest. "Oh, is that so?"
