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“It feels right in your mouth, doesn’t it?”
Before I could begin to form a reply, we were interrupted by the maître d', who it seemed would be acting as our server as well tonight. I guessed Alfie wanted as few people around us as possible. A rather rotund man in a white coat followed him and immediately clasped Alfie in a firm handshake as they exchanged pleasantries in rapid French.
I watched Alfie, the way his lips moved as he spoke, the bob in his throat as he breathed, swallowed and spoke again. Every detail of him tantalised me. He was right. His name did feel right in my mouth. As if it had always been there, just resting on my tongue, waiting for me to notice.
The maître d' poured white wine into our glasses before depositing the bottle in an ice bucket next to the table. I smiled my thanks.Alcohol. I need alcohol.
"My usual please, Jean," Alfie told the man in the white coat, who I assumed was the chef. "Lola?" Three pairs of expectant eyes fell on me.
"I don't have a menu," I whispered, as if Jean and the maître d' weren't standing rightthere.
"It doesn't matter. Just tell him whatever you want to eat and he'll make it."
"Really?" I glanced at Jean to make sure he was happy with this and wasn't just following orders.
"Oui, Madame, whatever you wish to eat will be my pleasure to make for you." He smiled broadly, his smile plumping his cheeks so much I wondered if he could see over them.
My mind spun with possibilities—everything I'd ever eaten, what I liked and what I didn't. A thousand what-ifs crossed my mind. I saw a guy on TV eat ostrich once; what if I ordered that? I was acutely aware of Alfie's eyes on me, awaiting my decision.
"Jean," I said finally, my decision made, "can you please make me your favourite thing to make?"
The chef’s face lit up, and with another "Oui, Madame!" he disappeared into the kitchen, the maître d' disappearing with him, leaving me alone once more with Alfie Tell who was looking at me with approval.
I fiddled with my napkin. He eyed my hands, picking up on my nerves straight away. I placed the napkin on my lap instead and fidgeted with it there, out of his sight.
"So, show them to me.” I looked up, startled. "The earrings," he clarified. I bit my lip, wondering how exactly he was going to take this. I lifted my hair and showed him my naked lobes.
"I gave them to Ryan for treasure.”
He stared at me, seemingly dumbfounded. "Treasure?"
"Yes. On Monday I had to borrow Natalie's shoes, the ones you said didn't fit right, because he'd decided that mine were treasure and buried them in the garden. I wanted to give him some real treasure." As I talked I realised how insane that sounded.
"So, those seven carat earrings are currently…"
"…buried in my back garden under the watchful eye of an imaginative eight year old."
His expression was completely unreadable. He didn't smile, or look angry, he just stared at me. He sat back in his seat, the candle light reflected in his eyes, hypnotising me.
My gaze dropped to his mouth, to the lips that had been on mine and coaxed such a visceral reaction out of me. My cheeks flushed, and I tried to blame it on the heat from the candles but I knew that wasn't it. I didn't miss the satisfied look on Alfie's face.He was affecting me just by sitting there and he knew it. That was okay, because I knew I could affect him too.
"So, what now? You've gone to a great deal of trouble to get me here, Mr Tell. What do you intend to do with me?" I took a slow sip of my wine, not missing how his eyes lingered on my mouth.
"I think you're playing with me, O'Connell."
"Maybe, maybe not. Truly though, why did you invite me here?"
He paused for a moment, considering his answer. "I just wanted to know you. I've been curious about you ever since you threw your smart mouth at me and called me…what was it? Mr Business Suit?" He gave a slight shake of his head, as if he still couldn't believe I'd spoken to him like that. "You're different every time I see you; changeable, unpredictable. I never know how you're going to react. Do you have any idea how exhilarating that is? After years of cardboard copy people, to meet someone so fresh." His eyes glazed over a little as he looked at me, as if he wasn't sure that I really existed. I felt the same way about him.
"Do you remember that day on the rooftop? When you asked how you could be satisfied if you had the same wealth I do? You were right. I am dissatisfied. The people in my world bore me. Everything is so painfully predictable and nothing I own is enough. But you, my unusual girl, are fierce and I want to know you. I want to fuck you senseless too, and I will. Not tonight, but I will. First, though, I want to know you."
His words had struck me, rendered me speechless. He'd struck my heart, my mind, and then finished me with an arrow to that visceral place inside me. I felt the familiar ache between my legs, the one that plagued me so often when he was close. He awakened some deep, reckless part of me that wanted to be free. It was a part of me that sharply contrasted my rational side. The side that grimaced at his arrogance and was none too happyabout being tracked via GPS. Those two sides of me warred, only confusing me further. I sipped my wine again, allowing the liquid to cool my heated mouth.
"So know me." I waited, clutching the crumpled napkin in my lap, wondering what he would say next and what effect those words might have on me.
"Tell me about yourself. Have you always lived in this town?"
I breathed a sigh of relief. A safe topic. "Yes, born and raised here. I've never left, not even for a holiday. I think actually this might be the furthest I've ever been from home."