Protective Secrets (The Protective Series, Book 3)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

[Dominik's P.O.V]

"And so then Janne did it anyway," I explained, telling Michelle a story from my childhood. There were barely any positive memories to be found within my past, except for those few rare occasions where Janne made my life worth living for. "Our mum was not happy, believe me."

She tipped her head back in laughter, unable to contain her amusement anymore. I watched the way her small nose scrunched up every time she did it, and the way soft crinkles appeared by the sides of her closed eyes. She was possibly the most beautiful woman I'd ever had the pleasure of knowing, and yet she was still just as oblivious of my feelings towards her as the day we first met.

Her light ash blonde hair spilled freely over her fair shoulders, adding shadows to the sharp curves of her petite collarbones. Each perfectly curled strand, imbued with the subtlest hint of hazel, smelt of the light, fruity Chanel fragrance on her sparkly silver dress. Hundreds of sequins glimmered almost as brightly as her sage green eyes, their depths reminding me of moss covered trees blending in impeccably around a vivid patch of grass. Everything about her only drew me in deeper under her spell, including the flawless arch of her thick manicured eyebrows and smooth planes of her face.

Throughout our dinner, I fought against the persistent urge to lean over the table and press my lips against hers, wondering how they would feel on my skin. I needed to take this slow, or else I risked messing up the whole night.

She blended in well amongst the cream walls and white fishing nets hanging decoratively from the ceiling, sprinkled with strings of elegant flower petals. The tables around us were filled with young couples, friends, and families all braving the LA heatwave to come out tonight to one of the city's most renowned restaurants. Though I never frequented the establishment, it was still on my list of top ten places to visit every time I returned here. The waiters were well-mannered and polite, and the food always satisfied the inner food journalist within me.

It felt like decades passed before Michelle finally said yes to going out on this date with me. I'd been trying to work up the courage for the past year, and now that she was sitting right across from me, all the nervousness, the second-guessing and hair-ripping all seemed so childish and time-consuming. There was nowhere else in the world I would have chosen to be in right then, except for with her.

"I only ever saw the serious, business-like side of Janne," she said, dabbing the edges of her mouth with a white dinner napkin. "I had no idea he was such a troublemaker."

"Oh yeah, he was always causing trouble in school," I rambled on, remembering the very day Janne had managed to get my yo-yo confiscated by my grade four teacher before class even started. "This one time, he smuggled a batch of soap into the school and poured it into the drinking fountains. The court yards looked like giant snowy mountains, let me tell you. The whole school had to be evacuated just so they could clean it out."

The waiter who had served us throughout the night approached our table, placing a small black folder in between us with faded gold cursive on the front reading a faint 'thank you'.

I glanced up at him, meeting his dark brown eyes. He was only in his early twenties, originating from the north of Russia if his rough accent was anything to go by. Shadows darkened the area beneath his hollow cheekbones, his hard-featured face occupied by a somewhat buoyant expression. He had a blonde buzz cut and tendrils of black ink slithering out from his white sleeves, stopping at the top of his wrists. Strange as it was, I recalled seeing him from somewhere once before.

"On behalf of our wonderful staff, I would like to personally thank you for choosing Providence tonight." He beamed at us both, knotting his fingers in front of him. "We hope you had a great experience, and look forward to seeing you again in the future."