Page 12 of His Captive
I turn to leave the restroom and my phone buzzes in my purse. I pull it out to see I have a message from Sarah.
Sarah: Still alive?
Lea: Yes, it’s going horribly. I don’t think I’m going to get anything useful out of him.
Sarah: Why not?
Lea: He just wants to talk about me. I asked about his wife, but he didn’t say much.
Sarah: That’s what follow-up questions are for!
Lea: He didn’t kill his wife. I can tell. If you were here, you’d be able to tell, too.
Sarah: Did he say that?
Lea: I didn’t ask him that! Obviously! But I can tell.
Sarah: Try to get something useful! Please! You’ve listened to my podcasts before. Ask questions like I ask them.
Lea; I’ll try. I’m in the restroom right now. I need to get back to the table before he comes looking for me.
Sarah: I believe in you!
I sigh and shake my head as I put my phone away. I’m so conflicted. All I need to do is keep this miserable date going long enough to eat some of my dinner. Then I can say my stomachis bothering me, get back to my bungalow, and forget all about Massimo Morandi. I’ve done nothing that would encourage him to ask for a second date. The exact opposite, actually. He’ll probably be glad when this is over, too.
I take a deep breath, check the mirror, and adjust a few stray curls before leaving the restroom. Massimo’s icy blue gaze meets mine as I walk toward the table and he flashes a half-smile as he gets up and pulls out my chair.
“Welcome back,bambina,” he says. “Are you feeling any better?”
“No, not really,” I admit, even though it isn’t for the reasons I’ve said.
“Maybe some food will help,” he says, motioning behind me and I glance over my shoulder to see Monica approaching with our plates.
“Yeah, maybe.” I nod in agreement.
One step closer to getting out of here. One step closer to forgetting all about those piercing eyes. One step closer to forgetting how incredibly attractive the man sitting across the table from me is.
“Thank you,” Massimo says to Monica as she puts our plates down in front of us.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Monica asks.
“No, I think we’re fine.” Massimo glances at me and I nod in agreement.
“Yes, it looks delicious. Thank you,” I say.
My stomach rumbles when I inhale the aroma of chicken, pasta, and white sauce. I haven’t eaten since this morning and I’m starving now that the nausea has passed. But my stomach issues are my way out of here, so I can’t devour everything on my plate like I want to. Instead, I carefully carve off some chicken, twist some pasta around it, and take a timid bite. The taste is incredible and I can’t stifle the satisfied sigh that passes across my lips.
“It’s good, right?” Massimo asks, taking a bite of his food.
“Yes, it’s amazing,” I admit.
“Good! Want to try a bite of mine?” he offers, gesturing to his plate.
My hunger seems to have taken over now that I’ve had a bite of food. I nod apprehensively and take the bite Massimo nudges onto my plate. It’s even better than my chicken and pasta—way better.
“Wow,” I remark. “Yeah, that’s good.”
Massimo smiles. It looks so genuine, but foreign, like I’m putting a smile on the face of a man who hasn’t smiled in years. Isn’t that what Monica said? I glance at his hands as he takes a bite of his food. I immediately imagine them on my skin—touching places that have never been touched by anyone. I shake it off as soon as I feel some redness in my cheeks again.
