Page 43

CHAPTER 43

Birdie

Per protocol, yesterday, Torrance gave my bodyguards the address of the restaurant he was taking me to, but I preferred not to know beforehand. I may be on a mission, but I might as well enjoy the whole experience.

I can’t believe my eyes when we reach our destination. The Alchemist Bistro he’s so nervous it’s adorable. “Really? I didn’t ruin the night already?”

I notice he has a lot of hair on his head for a man in his forties. How does it feel to have my fingers digging in those dark, thick waves? Are they as soft as they look? Do they smell as nice as he does, a blend of spice, wood, and something powerfully wild? I smile. “No.”

From the backseat, Tristan sticks his head between us. “Her husband is not anywhere near the perimeter. We checked.” He glares at me. “And the restaurant is clear. We’re good to go.”

Suddenly, I’m the only one sitting in the car. Then Tristan opens the door for me. By the frown on Torrance’s face, I realize why they were racing each other out. Torrance wanted to be the one doing it, but my bodyguard wouldn’t let him. It’s the first time tonight Tristan manages to get a visible rise out of Torrance.

“Get a grip,” I whisper to Tristan as I leave the car.

He clenches his teeth. “Just following protocol, ma’am.”

Marcus is waiting at the entrance. The hostess, Stephanie, greets us with a wide smile. “Welcome to The Alchemist. Birdie, how lovely to see you again!” Her eyes flit over all of us, taking in the three men’s imposing forms. “Table for four?”

“Two tables. There’s a reservation under Torrance,” the detective says.

“Of course!” There’s a tremor in her high-pitched voice and a flush to her cheeks. I can’t tell if she’s afraid or aroused or both. “Right this way please.” She sways her hips more than usual as she leads us to our tables. I catch Marcus stealing a glance, but the other two are busy glaring.

I get my usual table. The lights are dim, so I take off my shades. The detective manages to pull the seat for me before Tristan does. One Tristan. One Torrance.

My head of security sits at the next table with a glower so dark I think they’ll ask him to leave for scaring customers. Marcus doesn’t join us. He’s on floor duty.

My books—the one I signed to the detective’s sister and the other one he brought—nestle at the table side and stare back at me with their colorful sticky notes peeking out of the pages. “You actually read the book?”

“No, I just put these annoying things between the pages to think that I did.”

I arch a brow at him and snatch the book to see if he’s joking.

“Okay. That was a lame joke to tell someone with serious trust issues. I take it back,” he says.

When I flip through the pages, a shrivel of joy sneaks up on me. Besides the sticky notes, there are highlights, annotations and vivid NSFW drawings of a couple of spicy scenes. I bite my lip on a smile.

“Yes, I read it, and I loved it, like I told you yesterday. I wouldn’t lie to you, Birdie. Not about your work, at least. I can imagine how much you must value it.”

I put the book back. “Thank you, Detective.”

“Jacob,” he prompts. “Please.”

As we go over our menus, Jacob catches my eye and smiles warmly. I smile back. “What?”

“I’m trying to be a gentleman, but I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Wow. What happened to the nervous guy in the car?”

“Believe me, I am nervous. I haven’t done this in a very long time.”

“This? What exactly is this ?”

“Discussing a book with its author, what else could it be?”

“So you’ve done that before?”

“Yeah. Haven’t you?”

“I have actually.”

“See, it’s very common. Everybody does it.”

I laugh wholeheartedly, and he stares. My gaze drops to the menu. “Now, you’re making me nervous.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just nice to hear your real laugh.”

Come to think of it, I can’t remember when the last time I laughed from my heart was.

The waiter comes for our orders, and Jacob asks what wine I’d like to have. Is he drinking? I doubt he’ll touch any tonight. Trying to get my inhibitions low to find out all my secrets, Detective? I politely decline. I need to be at the top of my game.

“Do you mind if I have some?” he asks.

Surprise hits me two folds. He is drinking, and he’s so well-mannered he asks for approval. Am I supposed to fall for this shit? “What’s next? Are you going to fight for my honor, too?”

Taken aback, the detective stares back and forth between me and the waiter. Shit. I didn’t mean to say that out loud or in front of an audience. So much for keeping up the act. I blew my cover before I even started. I glance at the waiter. “Give us a minute please.”

“Sure.” The waiter practically runs away from our tables.

Tristan rises from his seat and reaches my side in one stride, raw animosity rolling off him in potent waves. “Is everything all right?”

I dart a glare at him. “Yes. Please return to your seat.”

A vein pops in his neck as he studies my face, and then he scowls at Jacob. “If anything bothers you, you know what to do.”

The signals. He trained me for the signs I should give to signal danger when I first hired him, and he’s gone over them with me a million times since yesterday. There are several. Blink or tap my heel three times. Say the word Tango, which we later changed to Gatsby—it’s more natural and covert to use a bodyguard’s last name I won’t use in any other context and can also refer to a novel.

But the ones that pertain to this event are the SOS text ready on my phone, which means the detective is being an asshole. Please engage. Another with a poop emoji if I just need Tristan to fake a phone call to get me out of the boring meeting.

When Tristan finally returns to his table, I peer at the detective. “Look, I’m not trying to be rude. I just have no filters sometimes.”

“I noticed.” Jacob puts the menu aside. “Did I say something wrong? Is this about the wine? I just needed a glass to ease my nerves. I swear I’m not an alcoholic or anything.”

I should lie and use his words against him to come back from my fiasco, but my emotions are getting the best of me. While I understood what I was getting myself into, deep down, I was hoping I was wrong about the detective. I should have learned my lesson. In the land of deceit, hope is your worst enemy.

“I know what alcoholics look like, and you’re not one. So no, it’s not about the wine. It’s about how considerate you can be, picking this place, how nervous you’re trying to act around me, how polite you are, trying to give me the princess treatment. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull off here, Detective.”

“I’m not trying to pull anything off.” He locks his gaze with mine, sincerity dripping from his voice. “I mean, look at you and look at me. You’re Birdie Abel. Of course, I’m nervous. It’s not an act. And what you call the princess treatment is just me trying to treat a woman like you as she should. Being polite and considerate is the least I can do for you because you’re not just a princess, you’re a queen. Sitting here with you is a dream, and I don’t want to ruin it.” He purses his lips. “But maybe I’m trying too hard and already messed up.”

He doesn’t blink or fidget. Everything about him exudes respect and honesty, but I don’t believe a single word. “Why don’t you cut to the chase and tell me why you brought me here? We both know it’s not to fangirl over my work.”

He nods pensively. “I was hoping to tell you after that glass of wine, but… Here goes nothing.” His hands clasp in front of him as he leans forward. “There was this girl that I met so many years ago. She…stole my heart without so much of a word. Just like in your book. But I didn’t let myself believe my feelings for her were true. This was real life, not some fantasy to escape. This kind of love couldn’t be real.

“So I didn’t tell her how one look into her eyes could take away my breath or what her smile did to me. I didn’t take her pain away or make her dreams come true. I let her go, just like that. Watched her fall for someone else, and I didn’t lift a finger to earn her love.”

His eyes glisten, and his pained expression tears at me. Listening to a man like him, so masculine and powerful, talk about a lost love with such vulnerability demolishes my barriers and doubts until only compassion remains. Unexpectedly, I find myself blinking away my own tears.

“Problem is, that kind of love was real, but I only realized it too late,” he continues, and I lower my head from his gaze so that my composure doesn’t shatter completely. I know better than to let anyone see my real tears.

“Is that why you’ve never gotten married?”

“There is a story in everything. This is mine.”

“But why are you telling it to me?”

“Because, after years of pain, despair and loneliness, I learned my lesson and decided that if I ever came across something remotely close to how I felt about that girl,” he pauses until I lift my eyes to him, “I wouldn’t let her go, no matter what it takes.”

“Jacob…” His name tumbles unbidden from my lips.

“From the moment I saw you, there was something that pulled me to you. An urge to be in your world, to get to know you and be around you. However, my manners that you think are an act wouldn’t let me approach a woman who wasn’t single. Then the case happened. I was a cop, and you were a suspect. But now the case is closed, and you’re getting a divorce. There’s no more reason for me to wait. I’ve wasted so much time already.”

“Does that mean this is a date? A real date?”

“For me, it is. Was I too subtle? Don’t let my being polite and considerate fool you into thinking my intentions are entirely pure. While I read your book to get to know you, and with every page I fell in love with the story, I used it as an excuse to ask you out.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I didn’t think you’d agree to go out with me otherwise.” He swallows. “If I’m not showing it right, let me say it straight. I like you, Birdie. And if you’ll forgive my bluntness, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman before.”

My breath catches in my throat as his meaning sinks in. Does that mean all my suspicions are wrong? There’s no ploy to get information, to catch me off guard? He wasn’t trying to play me at all—he genuinely wanted to pursue...me?

A shaky sigh leaves his chest. “Please say something.”

“I don’t know what to say. But if what you’re saying is the truth, if your interest in me is genuine, you must understand that even after the divorce is final, I will need a very long time to consider being in a relationship again.”

“I’m well aware, and I’m prepared to be as patient as you need me to be. I have a long way to go to show you I’m worthy of your trust, too.” He leans in and inclines his head so that he can whisper in my ear. “And when the time is right, if you’ll let me, I’ll fuck your brains out like Domenico did with Nicky from page two-hundred and eighteen onward and show you nights more depraved than what Jocasta Larvin had with the Lazzarini duo combined.”

I cough wildly, my skin licked by flames.

He rests his back against the chair and pours water in my glass, a playful smirk on his lips. I take a sip, my stare clashing with Tristan’s. He’s on edge, eyes flickering between me and Jacob, anticipating, so I wave a hand and mouth, “I’m fine.”

I chance a glance at Jacob. “You sir are naughty.” The characters he’s mentioned are from the most erotic romances I’ve ever written. I don’t know which is sexier, the scenes that portray my darkest sexual fantasies or the fact that he’s thoroughly read them that he remembers their page numbers.

His shoulder lifts nonchalantly as he studies the menu again.

“Suffice to say, you’ve read more of my books than the one I gave your sister.”

“I’m burning through your backlist at this point. You hooked me with that first introduction to your universe. You are very creative with your…words.”

I clear my throat, pressing my thighs together. “If you ever decide to leave the force, I’ll hire you to illustrate my NSFW artwork. They sell like crazy, and your drawings are spot on. I’ll make you famous.”

A touch of color rises to his face. “You saw that, huh? I was saving them for our third date.”

“Ambitious much? What makes you think there will be a second date let alone a third?”

He grins as he sets the menu aside. “A little bird.”

“The same bird that told you about the restaurant and the flowers?”

“What about the flowers?”

“Tulips, purple and golden tulips.”

His shoulders slump. “You hate them. I should have gone with red roses. I knew it.”

“No, Jacob. That’s not what I’m saying. I loved them.”

Dumbfounded, he purses his lips. “Full disclosure, I’m not a flower man. I Googled the best kind to bring on a first date and most advice said no roses, especially red, so I remembered, in your book, the main character loved tulips and thought you might like them, too.”

“And the colors? Those were not in the book.”

“The lady at the flower shop chose them. Personally, I felt the glitter was too much, but she said it was a fancy touch, so…”

Jacob knew nothing about my favorite colors. It was only luck.

With a chuckle, I revel in the spark that ignites in his gaze, giving myself a break from the weight of reality. As the last of my doubts has dissipated, I can finally enjoy the night and the possibilities that come with this man who sees and wants me—just me. Whatever complications may arise, whatever risks I might face, they will have to take a backseat until I go home.

He points a thumb behind his shoulder. “Can I tell the waiter to come back for our order? I’m starving.”

“Yes, please. And on second thought, I’d like to have a glass of red wine.”

“You got it, baby girl.”

Wow .

When the waiter leaves with our order, Jacob asks, “If you didn’t think this was a date or a fangirl dinner, what did you think it was? Why did you think I asked to meet you?”

I shrug. “Something stupid that doesn’t matter anymore.”