“Very well.” He unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door. “I will not tell you this is where we are going.”
“Shit!” She snapped her head around and glared at him. “You can’t be serious. I might be a good fifteen feet from the closest window, but I can see enough to know this ain’t a jeans and T-shirt place. Not to mention the fact I can’t even pronounce whatever it’s called.”
He slid out of his seat. “It’s pronounced lar-peej, and today, it does not matter what we wear inside.” Not giving her a chance to volley back a response, he shut his door and stalked around the hood of the truck to hers.
Her reply was instant the second he opened her door. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter today?”
Smiling at the return of her customary curiosity and questions, he clasped one of her hands and tugged her from her seat. “Perhaps it would be best if you came inside and learned for yourself.”
Her frown was adorable, that tiny furrow between the sharp V of her eyebrows one he very much wanted to kiss, and would have if he wasn’t certain it would only frustrate her more. “What are you up to?”
He shut her door behind her and punched the lock button on his key fob. “You said you required food. I’m ensuring you get what you need.” He slid his arm around her waist and guided her forward, but used the opportunity to press his case. “I will always provide what you need, moya koroleva. Eventually, you will come to trust as much. To trust me.”
She looked to him and opened her mouth, ready to continue their conversation, but the doors pushed wide and a man dressed all in black waved them inside with a smile. “Good afternoon. We’ve been expecting you.”
Bonnie hesitated long enough to give the twenty-something man in his crisp button-down, tie and fine pants a once-over, but seemed to realize what she was doing and got on with making her way inside.
Standing at the rounded archway that divided the opulent entrance from the dining room, Bonnie clasped her hands tightly in front of her as though trying to be invisible and surreptitiously surveyed the soaring ceilings, elaborate gold moldings and ivory drapes with their silver fringe.
“Everything is ready for us?” Roman asked the waiter.
“Of course, Mr. Kozlov. Exactly as you requested. Please, come this way.” The man guided them toward the middle of the room, rounded one table and pulled a chair out. “Here you are, Miss Drummond.”
Bonnie halted two steps from the table, eyed the chair the man still waited behind, then cast a dubious glance at Roman before slowly getting back in gear. “Um. Okay. Thanks.”
Roman took the seat immediately to her right, keeping his back to the nearest wall.
“My name is Robert and I’ll be your waiter.” As if on cue, two men joined them at the table, both dressed exactly the same as Robert. One poured water for Roman and Bonnie and the other placed rolls onto each of their bread plates and slid pats of butter shaped like roses in between them. “These two gentlemen are Felix and Todd and they’ll be helping you as well today. What would you like to drink?”
So captivated by her surroundings and the attentiveness of their servers, it took a good three or four seconds before Bonnie realized Robert was waiting on her to reply. “Oh. Right. Drinks.” She looked to Roman first, then shrugged and shifted her attention back to Robert. “You got any Coke?”
Robert smiled big enough to show teeth. “Yes, of course. And you, sir?”
“Water for me.”
“Certainly.” Robert nodded to his two helpers as though giving them permission to proceed, then zeroed in on Roman. “Would you like me to ask Chef to begin your order? Or would you prefer to wait a bit?”
An interesting conundrum. Part of him wanted more time simply to talk with Bonnie and give her ample opportunity to get comfortable with the space, but another part of him said he’d be wise to get a move on with the food. One thing he’d learned in the short time they’d cohabited was that a hungry Bonnie was also a cranky Bonnie. Or as she put it—a hangry Bonnie. “Go ahead. We waited too long to eat and my woman is hungry.”
“Then we’ll start right away.” Giving his own quick bow, he swiftly headed toward the kitchen, leaving only silence between him and Bonnie.
Not that the silence lasted long.
Bonnie leaned closer to him and whispered, “Where is everybody?”
Roman took the cloth napkin cleverly folded to one side of his plate, shook it loose and laid it in his lap. “There is no one else. The restaurant is closed to all but us. Which also means there is no need to whisper.”
Noting his action, Bonnie mimicked the action with her own napkin then scanned the vast dining room. “You mean they’re not normally open this time of day?”
“No. I mean they closed today at my request.”
Her head snapped back. “Why would they do that?”
“Because I paid them to.”
That delightful furrow between her brows was back. “And you’d do that why?”
“Because I wanted you to experience something special and I knew you would be uncomfortable with others here. So I paid them to open only for us.”
She stared at him for long seconds then swept the room again with her considering gaze. When she finally refocused on him, she swallowed hard. “Roman, this place is fancy.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Like I think that’s material on the wall instead of wallpaper kind of fancy.”
Roman checked the gold and ivory filigree pattern on the wall opposite him and nodded. “I believe you’re right. It does appear to be fabric. Though, I don’t understand how that factors into our lunch.”
“It factors because you paid them to only be open to us.”
“Yes, I already said as much. How is that an issue?”
“It’s an issue because if a place has fabric on the walls, fancy China and real silverware on the tables and a whole team of waiters taking care of two people, it’s expensive.”
Ah. There it was. A kernel he could work with. An opening for the path forward. He paused long enough to gather his thoughts, pulled in a deep, steadying breath, then dove in. “You are a smart woman. You do not make a large income, but you’ve made enough to pay your bills and live with integrity. When faced with taking an important action—is cost the only factor?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Not sure I follow.”
“Take your apartment, for instance. When you selected it, did you focus only on rent? Or did location and the safety that went with it factor in?”
Comprehension dawned. “Oh, safety for sure. And convenience. I could’ve found a lot cheaper places, but I’d have had to walk through some shitty neighborhoods to get there if my car acted up.”