Page 112 of Lethal Torture
“Thanks.” I pop the top of one of the beers I ordered after I saw them at his place and hand it to him, then hand him a bottle of Sangiovese to open. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before, though.”
“That was work.” Luke takes the bottle, his eyes never leaving me. “This is most definitely pleasure.”
Oh, God.I’ll never make it through dinner if he keeps looking at me like that.
I start arranging a platter ofmanchegocheese andjamón pata negrathat Darya informed me is Spain’s best when she slipped it into my bag. I add olives, along with Tuscan bread and an olive-oil-and-balsamic-vinegar dipping bowl on a wooden board, since Luke looks like he might eat the table if I don’t put food in front of him soon.
“So,” I say as he hands me a glass of wine, “what was the business end you needed to discuss?”
“Bogdan Kozlov.” Luke leans against the counter, taking a mouthful of beer from the bottle, then biting into a piece of bread andjamón.“Christ, this is good.” He launches into his conversation with Paddy, filling me in on the Reading warehouse and the sex parties.
“So they’re working together,” I say as he winds up.
“No doubt.” He hands me a piece of bread topped with thin slices ofmanchegoandjamón.“You have to try this.”
I bite into it. “Oh, wow.” Thejamonis amazing. And I didn’t realize how hungry I am. I close my eyes briefly, savoring the taste. When I open them, Luke is watching me in that silent, devastating way that always undoes me.
I look hastily back down at my chopping board.
Focus, Zin.
“We’ll hack the system,” he goes on. “There’s still a lot we don’t know. And I’ll send you the file with Paddy’s photographs tomorrow, unless you want to look at them now?”
Now?I’m having trouble focusing on anything past Luke’s tall, broad body leaning up against my kitchen counter. “Tomorrow is good.”
He gives a low laugh.
Oh, fuck.
I turn to the fridge to buy myself some time, retrieving the rib eye steaks and setting them on the counter to warm up. I start peeling sweet potato, cutting it into thin fries.
One song ends, and another one starts.
I start chopping herbs.
I have absolutely no idea how to play this.On the plane, Luke mentioned tearing up the contract. But I still don’t know what that means. I feel like I’m swimming around in a sea of confusion. There is certainty in business, and certainty when we’re naked. I have no fucking idea about what happens between those two things.
Or what happens when the business part ends.
And despite my resolution to take Darya’s advice and just enjoy myself, the not knowing is killing me.
The silence draws out to the point where it’s about to get uncomfortable.
“Why don’t you just ask me, Zinaida?”
I look up, startled, to find him grinning at me crookedly. “Whatever is causing you to mince that innocent sweet potato,” he goes on, “just spit it out.”
I glance back down at the board. He’s right. The sweet potato is almost mash.
“Fine.” I meet his eyes, trying to keep my voice steady. “You said you tore up the contract with Mak. I don’t know what that means.”
“It means exactly what I said: that, for now, being here, doing this work with you, is my choice.” His voice is low andreassuring, his eyes steady on mine. “After we get to the bottom of all this, we can revisit the topic.”
For now.
The words echo uncomfortably inside my head as I turn back to the meal prep.
He’s not making any promises.
