Page 78 of Her Guardian
“No need,” he grunts. “But it might be possible, one day. IVF, maybe, but there’s no guarantee.”
“I don’t need a guarantee,” I say, squeezing his arm. “Seriously. If it’s possible, and we get that far with this, then we’ll cross that bridge when we have to. If it isn’t possible, it isn’t possible. There’s always adoption.”
“And plenty of kids that need homes,” Boyd says, nodding in agreement. “We’re almost to the restaurant.”
“Good, I’m hungry,” I say, glancing out the window when we turn into a parking lot. “I don’t see a sign for a restaurant, though.”
“Very exclusive. They only seat eight guests a night,” Boyd explains.
“Let me guess, it’s owned by the Morandi family?” I laugh.
“Partially,” Boyd chuckles. “It was Leo’s idea, a long time ago, but he doesn’t know shit about running a restaurant. He wanted Rowan to run it, but Massimo had bigger plans for him.”
The limousine comes to a stop and Boyd doesn’t wait for the driver to open the door. He drags his massive frame out into the night and extends his hand for mine. I take it and when my expensive heels touch the pavement, I see an alleyway in front of us.
“Great, the Mafia guy is taking me into a dark alley on our first date,” I tease.
“Nobody gets rid of bodies in an alley unless they want to get caught,” he mutters, taking my hand. “Come on.”
We step into the alleyway and Boyd stops after a few feet, knocking on the wall. It looks solid, and I’m about to question his sanity when the wall slides open. It’s a door. A door to a dimly lit restaurant and when Boyd leads me inside, I see a sign. Otto Nero.I checked out restaurants in Las Vegas during my second visit. Never saw any mention of this one.
We’re taken to our table immediately. There’s already scotch waiting in front of Boyd’s seat and a green drink in front of mine. Mine looks freshly poured. I’m not sure about Boyd’s.
“What’s this exactly?” I ask, letting Boyd help me into my chair.
“Tequila, pineapples, lime, cucumbers,” Boyd answers as he walks around the table and sits down. “Some other stuff. Oh, and jalapenos, but they said the fruit is the dominant flavor. If you don’t like it, you can pick something else.”
“Jalapeno peppers?” My eyes get wide. “Okay, I’ll try it.”
I lift the drink, sniff it, and the pineapple is what I smell most, along with the unmistakable aroma of tequila. I take a cautious sip, then another, not really tasting the heat, but it lingers on my tongue after I swallow.
“That’s much better than I expected,” I say, nodding and smiling. “And not as strong as that cherry-whatever.”
“Cherry Vyssinatha,” Boyd replies. “It’s got a kick.”
I take another sip and look for the menu. There’s one for drinks, sitting right in front of me, but it appears to be the only one.
“Are they going to bring us a menu so we can order dinner?” I ask.
“Not here,” Boyd explains. “Chef Karfakis doesn’t believe in menus, but you’ll get plenty to choose from. If nothing looks good, we’ll find somewhere else to eat. Plenty of restaurants in Las Vegas.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” I shrug a shoulder. “I’m not very picky.”
“Me either,” he chuckles, sipping his scotch. “But the food here is usually great. Why don’t you tell me more about yourself while we wait, Sarah. Or do you just want to ask more questions about me?”
“What do you want to know?” I question.
“Everything,” he says. “You mentioned your mom… dad. Assuming no other siblings? Any other family you’re close with?”
“I see my grandparents sometimes, but they live in Florida and they’re a bit crazy.” I roll my eyes a little. “My mom’s parents. My dad’s parents didn’t keep in contact after the trial. He’s got abrother who checks in us sometimes and a couple of cousins I’m friends with on Facebook, but I haven’t seen them in years.”
“Family can be like that sometimes.” Boyd nods. “What about friends? I know you’re close with Lea.”
“Yeah, I always have been.” I look down and smile. “There are a few others. I’ve met up with Cadence a couple of times since everything happened with Erica.”
“The hacker, yeah,” Boyd says. “Did you know her before everything happened?”
“Not really,” I admit. “I’d seen her name on the true crime message boards a lot, but never spoke to her until I started looking for information about the Morandi family.”
