“Is that why you brought me here? To tell me I have an expressive face?”
“I told you why I brought you here. To talk.”
“Then talk.”
“I would rather you do the talking. Tell me more about yourself.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because it’ll determine whether you get to walk out of this restaurant breathing or not.”
My chest jolts and I bunch a napkin in my fists to stop my hands from shaking. “Why are you doing this? You already let me go.”
The dark depth of his gray eyes is similar to deep cloudy skies—blank, composed, and cold. “I only let you go until further notice. Now is the time for that notice. Are you going to tell me about yourself?”
There’s no winning with this asshole, is there? He’s already come with a purpose and he won’t stop until it’s met.
“What do you want to know?” I snap so he’ll get it over with and let me go.
“I don’t want to know anything in that tone. Repeat the question without the anger part.”
“Do you enjoy this?”
“What?”
“Being the Grim Reaper over others’ lives.”
“Not if I can help it, no. Being the Grim Reaper doesn’t actually give me answers…just bodies.”
A lump rises in my throat and I stiffen at his unspoken threat.
The waiter returns with a bottle of wine and my salad. Adrian motions at him to leave when he opts to open the bottle.
As soon as the waiter is gone, he does it with sure movements. He doesn’t hurry or get flustered, like a typical person who’s confident about himself and his surroundings. While I’m usually the same in my own world, I seem to lose all my confidence in his company.
Being held at gunpoint will do that, I guess.
Adrian pours me a glass and one for himself, and although I wasn’t planning on drinking, I need some liquid courage right now.
I take a long sip, then sigh. “What do you want to know?”
“What’s your last name?”
“I’m sure you could’ve figured it out on your own. It’s all over the rehearsal hall.”
“Or I could easily run a background check on you to find out everything.”
My head tips up at that. He’s telling me without stating it that he’s powerful enough to figure out whatever he wants about me.
I take another sip of wine. “Does that mean you haven’t already?”
“It wouldn’t make a difference to you whether I have or not.”
“Of course it would.”
“No, it wouldn’t. It makes a difference to me because I would acquire information. You, however, have nothing to lose or gain.”
“I have everything to lose with you.”
He taps his forefinger against the table, lips twitching, but like the other time, he doesn’t smile. “You’re smart enough to recognize that. Continue being smart and answer my question.”
“Morelli.” I stab my fork into the salad and bring it to my mouth, chewing with aggressiveness.
“Lia Morelli. Were you born in the States or in Italy?”
“Italy.”
“Both parents Italian?”
“Mom was American. Dad was Italian.”
“Both dead?”
“Yes,” I snap, gulping what remains in the glass in one go. “Is your questioning over?”
“That’s one.” He takes a leisurely sip of his wine.
“One?”
“One strike. I told you not to speak to me in that tone.”
“What tone should I speak in then? Is there a fucking manual on how to talk to a murderer?” I hiss the last word under my breath.
“Two. And while there’s no manual, you ought to use that clever head of yours and not provoke me.”
I snatch the bottle and pour until the glass almost overflows. Some surrounding tables gawk at my lack of manners, but I’m past the point of caring. I’m fuming, and the more he probes about my past, the faster the wounds I’ve kept hidden sting, ripping at the stitches so I’ll set them free.
“How did your parents die?” he asks ever so languidly, obviously not reading my mood. Or maybe he asks in spite of it.
He’s probably taking pleasure in this.
Sighing, I say, “An accident.”
“What type of accident?”
“Gas asphyxiation.” The words leave my throat in a pained whisper. My fingers tremble around the wine glass as I bring it to my lips. I don’t want to think about that time, but my demons swirl from the background, wrapping their tentacles tightly around my throat.
“Breathe, Lia.” A hand flattens against mine, pulling it and the glass down to rest on the table.
That’s when I realize I’m balling my other hand and moisture is stinging my lids.
I stare at him, at the eternal calm that’s in his eyes despite the chaos he’s inflicted with merely a few questions. “Why are you doing this?”
“To get to know you.”
“You can’t force someone to talk about their life. That’s not getting to know them.”
“It is for me.”
“Then shouldn’t I get to know you, too?”
He pulls his hand from mine. “If you want.”
“Does this mean I can ask you questions?”
“Sure.”
“What do you do exactly?” I probably shouldn’t try to find out more about him, but I already know his name. If I want to survive him, I need to look further into who he is and what he does.
“I’m a strategist.”
“A strategist who kills?” I lower my voice.
His lips curve in a small smirk as he tips his glass at me. “Exactly.”
“A strategist for whom?”
“I don’t think it would make a difference if you knew.”
“You said I could ask questions.”
“I never said I would answer them all.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair is for weak people, Lia. You’ve been in a monstrous world long enough to realize fairness doesn’t really exist.”
“It does exist, even if people like you are doing their best to erase it.”
He lifts a brow as he swirls his wine. “People like me?”
“You know.”
“No, not really. Why don’t you enlighten me?”
“Criminals.”
“Criminals. Interesting analogy.”
“It’s not an analogy when it’s true.” I push back against my faux leather seat, giving up on the salad and sipping the wine. It’s helping to loosen the nerves that have been on high alert since I first met this man.
“According to you, perhaps.”
“According to the world. You killed people.”
“People like me, criminals per your words.”
“That doesn’t make you a hero.”
“A hero is the last thing I want to be. Selflessness has never been my thing.”
“So you would rather be the villain?”
“A villain is the hero in his own story, so why not?”
“The villain always loses.”
“In Disney films. In your ballet performances, perhaps. In real life, however, the villain is the one who always wins.”