His Revenge

Chapter 13 - Scarlett

Scarlett P.O.V

"Voila!" Luciano lifts the lid of the silver serving tray, revealing my dinner- fluffy white rice, fried kale salad, and a piece of black cod cooked to perfection.

The meal is fit for a king with generous portions, something I hadn't expected from a restaurant of this high caliber. An exception for tonight, no doubt, since we were the only occupants.

"Did you cook this?" I ask as he sets the plate in front of me.

"Well..." He walks over to the seat opposite me, sits down, and carefully places his napkin across his lap before looking back up at me. "No. No, I didn't. Serge did. But I tried."

"Really?"

"Yes." He picks up his water glass, lifts it to his lips, and sips it. "And if you don't believe me, there's a pile of dirty dishes waiting by the sink in a show of my efforts."

"Oh, no." I laugh, but the sheepish grin on his face makes me stop.

"It's alright. You can laugh. Serge did, too." He slides his palm across the tablecloth, smoothing the tiny creases before folding his arms. "Right after giving me some sound advice."

"And what's that?"

"Uh... To be honest, I don't know. It was all in French. But what I gathered from the gist of it is: To never step foot in a kitchen again." He says, smiling, but his voice carries a twinge of sadness.

"Aww, well, thank you for trying. But you really didn't have to go through the trouble of renting out an entire restaurant," my eyes sweep around the room, the hardwood bar that takes up one wall and the candle-lit tables circling the jewel of the restaurant, a grand chandelier. "And cooking for me. Well... attempting." I amend with a wry twist of my lips.

"Yes, I did." He meets and holds my gaze, his voice just above a whisper. "This is the first of hopefully many dates to come, and I wanted it to be special."

For a moment, I'm lost, drowning in his gaze, the burning flame of the candlelight dancing in the inky depths of his eyes, holding me captive until I force myself to turn away.

I look out the slightly tinted glass at the busy downtown nightlife as heat crawls up my neck and settles across my cheeks. But the steady stream of passerbyers in various states of undress proves useless in distracting me from Luciano's sweet words looping in my head.

Is he serious?

He'd seemed sincere when he said it, but after so many failed dates, my confidence had taken a hit, making it hard to take his words at face value.

I turn back, slightly tilt my head and look up at him from underneath my eyelashes. "Many dates to come?"

"Yes. That is if you want."

I slowly nod, my eyes falling toward the plate of still-steaming food. "Mmm, I don't know. I need to see how good a chef Serge is first."

"Okay, that's fair." He smiles, placing his hand on mine as I reach for my fork. "But, let me grab the wine. I could use a little liquid courage right about now."

The corner of my lips quivers as I suppress the urge to laugh again. Fortunately, it goes unnoticed by Luciano as he gets up from the table and heads into the kitchen. As soon as he disappears inside, I pull the mirror from my purse, put on a fresh coat of lip gloss, and check my hair.

The long raven curls are up for once. Usually, I just let them hang wild and free around my shoulders, but tonight I'd made more of an effort. That is if you count the messy bun and bangs as such. And I did. Taming these curls was a full-time job, okay.