The pain in my leg has reduced to a mild and entirely endurable sting. “Thank you,” I murmur softly.
“Oh, I wouldn’t thank me just yet.”
I swallow hard. Every time my heartbeat evens out, he says something to speed it back up again.
He waits a beat, then the corner of his mouth twitches up one degree. It’s the closest I’ve seen yet to a smile on him. He sets my foot down gingerly, then rises to his full height. “Come on. Dinner should be on the table by now.”
Is this really happening? Apparently, it is, because Uri stands up and starts walking out of the living room without even bothering to glance back. He’s that sure that I’ll follow him.
“Wait!” I protest, getting to my feet awkwardly.
He glances at me over his shoulder. “Yes?”
“I… I can’t have dinner here.”
“Why?”
A thousand obvious answers leap to the forefront of my mind. Because you have mafia ties! A history of shady business deals! Crazy security, troubling rumors, a smile that makes my knees feel like limp spaghetti. Just take your pick.
Ziva might have said as much to him.
But not Shylyssa.
“Because… well… look at me.” I really don’t know why I’m gesturing down to my thighs. That’s just what I need—more attention on my embarrassing state of undress.
His mouth twitches upward. “I’ve already seen the orange cat on your panties, Alyssa. Changing now won’t make me unsee it. Now, come.”
There’s so much authority in his voice that I feel like I don’t have a choice. One dinner won’t kill me, right?
I hope.
So I follow him to the dinner table, hoping to God that I don’t end up as the appetizer.
4
ALYSSA
It’s official: dinner was a bad idea.
Watching Uri chew his food is strangely sensual. Even the way he picks up his wine glass and gives the ruby red liquid a confident whirl is sexy somehow.
The guys I’ve dated drank lukewarm Coors Light and burped between every sip. They ate Cheetos and frozen dinners, not foie gras and seared salmon.
It all puts one thing into glaring focus—I am way, way out of my depth here.
I have no idea how to talk to or deal with a man like Uri. He’s just such a… grownup. And he’s confident. And scary, although I can’t exactly put my finger on how. Maybe it’s all those rumors about his reputation swirling around in my head.
Mob ties and bad men striking corrupt deals in smoky backrooms.
Bodies stacked on bodies, gangland-style executions, bloody bones dissolving in vats of acid.
And money. Money coming out of every pore, every nook and cranny.
But the man just cleaned up my wound after I trespassed on his property. He can’t be all that bad, right?
… Right?
The problem is mostly with me. I’m too hyper-aware of his nearness, the way he looks at me like I'm the only person that exists. I wonder if he’s even aware of what that stare of his does to people. Something tells me he knows very, very well.
"Well this is…” I fumble for words. "… not how I expected my night to go."
Uri's mouth twitches in that barely-there smile. "I could say the same."
"You must meet a lot of interesting people, living in a place like this. Not too many girls like me dropping in unannounced." I give a self-deprecating laugh.
"No one like you," he underscores simply. Something about his voice makes me meet his eyes. There's more sincerity there than I expect. It throws me off-balance.
The earnest moment stretches, neither of us looking away. Finally, Uri clears his throat. “Would you like some wine?”
“No thanks. I’m not really a wine drinker.”
“What do you drink then?”
“Water, mostly.”
He grimaces. “I’ll give you a chance to think of a better answer.”
I shrug. “Splurging a ton of money on expensive alcohol never really made sense to me. I prefer to spend my money on experiences.”
His grimace remains as he pours me a glass of the same wine he’s drinking. Once the bottle has been returned to its ice bucket, he hands me the glass.
“Drinking wine like this is an experience. Small sip first.”
I take the glass and swirl the contents like I’d just seen him do. Except that my swirl is not nearly as confident or as graceful. In fact, I nearly paint the table in a wayward slosh of wine. I expect him to mock me or maybe simply throw me out on my ass, but he just keeps watching without saying a word.