I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. “Fine.” His shoulders relaxed. “As long as nothing like that ever happens again.”
He nodded quickly. “Of course. Absolutely. I swear.”
“And you’re going to take us all out for dinner tomorrow night to make up for it,” I tacked on with a sweet smile.
“Us all?” He checked his side mirror before changing lines. “Who exactly does that include?”
“Me, Jude, and Brooklyn,” I said. “A double date.”
He looked at me, and I was startled by the affection in his eyes. “Anything for you, Lila Carlisle,” he said.
I decided to take pity on him and change the subject. “Where are we going? You left town.” We were out in the country now, trailing the leafy-lined road north toward the mountains.
“It’s a surprise,” he said with a little smile. “Relax, we’ve got a ways still ahead of us.”
The conversation turned to more innocuous subjects from there, and we both relaxed as the car zipped smoothly up the small mountain roads. An hour later, he signaled a turn at a sign that read “Mountain Overlook Resort”. I looked at him quizzically.
“Nearly there,” he said.
Right as he said that, we turned the corner and the trees disappeared, opening up to a view of the mountaintop before us. The Mountain Overlook was nestled in the heart of the Longfellow Mountain Range, giving it the feel of being a safe haven amidst miles of peaks and valleys. The hotel itself, tall and long, presided at the center of the clearing, with a small set of stables off to the right, all of which was bordered by a thick grove of trees, the mountains rising and falling behind.
“Don’t you love it?” He looked at me, a hopeful grin lighting his face as we pulled into the entrance in front of the hotel.
Oddly, for a reason I couldn’t quite name, the first feeling that had flashed within me upon seeing the resort was fear, followed by a thick sense of foreboding. But that was ridiculous. It was clearly a luxury resort, one I might have stayed in myself if I ever vacationed a mere hour away from home. And he had chosen to surprise me with it.
I forced a smile. “It’s gorgeous.”
He smacked a hand on the steering wheel. “I knew you’d love it!”
I tried to figure out what it was about this place that was making me feel that way. Probably it was the length and height of the building, with its repeating rows, it reminded me of The Shining. Especially because we were fully out in the middle of nowhere. It did have charm though, and I made a promise to myself to stay open-minded.
A valet came out to meet us, and he hopped out, a little pep in his step as he tossed the keys to the valet and ran to open the door for me. I took his hand and we entered the hotel together, where a woman with an intricate updo and thick Russian accent greeted us immediately.
“Mr. McNamara, I am Ivana, your host this evening,” she said, standing perfectly straight in heels that I figured were at least six inches. “You are very welcome to our resort.”
“Thank you,” Aiden said. “Is our table prepared?”
“Of course, sir,” the woman said, with a slight bow of her head, and began to lead us through the lavishly decorated lobby.
As I followed, I glanced around, wondering why I had never heard of this place before. It was obviously expensive, high-end, even exclusive. So, why would I never have come across it? The people of my set were constantly working to one-up each other with finds just like this, and yet had never found it.
The decoration style was so rich it was over the top. The floor was white marble with gold and silver shining whorls of decorations. Thick fabric lined the walls, framing oil paintings and portraits of frowning, mustachioed men.
I considered the decorations, and then began to pay more attention to the patronage as we passed other guests. They all looked Eastern European, if I had to guess--and when I heard a snatch of Russian--my guess was confirmed.
I put a hand on Aiden’s arm. “Is this a Russian resort?”
Something flashed in his eyes, but it was gone so quickly I couldn’t identify what it was, and his face was open and happy once more. “How’d you figure it out so quickly?” He laughed.
“I took Russian in high school, went to St. Petersburg for a semester abroad,” I said.
He put an arm around my shoulder and squeezed me to his side. “Aren’t you just full of surprises, little Lila Carlisle?”
Ivana led us to a staircase, strutting down them with a casual ease despite her pencil skirt and high heels. Not used to be frightened by anything, I still hesitated at the top of the stairs. I could feel the temperature difference even from here. And what kind of nice restaurant was located in a basement?
Aiden took my hand and tugged me gently forward. “Trust me,” he said, and his chocolate brown eyes made it impossible to say no.
I walked down the steep steps behind him, glad I’d settled on strappy wedges for this date rather than anything spiky heeled. The temperature continued to drop as we went down the stairs, and my misgivings increased. Suddenly, I wished I had told Jude that I’d be out tonight with Aiden. I hadn’t told anyone where I’d be. Ever since Margeaux and I had fallen out, I didn’t really have anyone anymore, and it had thrown me off my game.
At the final step, the three of us turned left to walk through a wide doorway and what I saw there erased all of my misgivings at once.
We had descended into a wine cellar. I felt like an idiot, of course it was a wine cellar restaurant! The room was small, with only three white tableclothed tables. The walls were lined with warm wood and row upon row of wine. At the far end, a small but richly appointed fireplace crackled merrily. The cellar was warm, inviting, sumptuous.
We stepped down two more steps in, and Ivana led us to the center table, which was laid for two. Aiden pulled out a chair for me and then took his own seat.
“Your waiter will be here in just a moment,” Ivana said.
“Спасибо,” I said.
Ivana nodded and did not reply, disappearing through the doorway. We both heard her heels clip their way up the stairs. Aiden reached across the table and took my hand.
“Showing off your Russian?” he asked, squeezing it.
“Just a little,” I smiled at him. There was only one other couple in the room, an older man with a younger woman at one of the other tables, murmuring to one another. Aiden had done well. Not only had he chosen somewhere I had never been before, but it had the lush, exclusive feel that could impress even a trust fund brat as jaded as me.
“What wine shall we start with?” he asked, flicking open the menu. “Something French? Italian? What do you prefer?”
“French is great,” I said. “You pick.”
I felt a bit out of my depth with Aiden. I’d never dated a guy I hadn’t either known or known of my whole life. It left me feeling wrong-footed, and much more unsure of myself than I was used to being. Typically, choosing the wine was my favorite part of the dinner. I knew exactly what I liked and didn’t like and was an expert at separating the good wine worth the price from the junk that just filled out a menu and allowed the owner to cash in on the markup.
But what if I chose something that was crazily outside Aiden’s budget? I could offer to pay, but he might feel emasculated. I rubbed a hand up the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. Maybe this was a mistake. But then Aiden looked up with those sweet puppy dog eyes, and I decided it wasn’t.
A waiter came to our table. “Good evening, sir, madame, and welcome. This evening’s specials are the Buttered Duck Breast and our fine Truffle Gnocchi. Would you like to begin with a bottle of wine or champagne?”
Aiden pointed to a bottle on the wine list. “We’ll take this bottle, thanks.”
The waiter leaned forward, squinting at the type on the menu. “Ah, the Ogier Vacqueyras Boiseraie, a fine choice. I will be back momentarily.”
Aiden looked at me, and I saw his cheeks were red. “I couldn’t have prono
unced that to save my life.”
“That’s why you decided to make the poor waiter read what you wanted?” I asked with a laugh.
“That’s his job, isn’t it?” Aiden opened his menu so I couldn’t see his face.
“Hey,” I put a hand on the top of the menu so he’d lower it. “So you don’t speak French. So what? I’m not dating you for your ability to read perfectly from the menu.”
The tension in his face softened at that. “Are you sure? Because I can speak some French, you know.” He quirked an eyebrow at me.
“If you start singing Lady Marmalade right now…” I warned.
“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi!” He moved his shoulders from side to side, singing in a high-pitched soprano.
The couple at the other table stopped mumbling to each other and looked up in disapproval.
“Stop!” I put a hand on his lips, and then snatched it back when I felt his tongue touch my fingers. “Ew! What is the matter with you?” I laughed and used my cloth napkin to wipe my hand. “Now, can you behave like an adult or do we need to leave?” I asked, mock seriously.
“I’ll be good now,” he promised, but the wicked gleam in his eye told another story.
The waiter returned with our bottle of wine, uncorking it in front of us and pouring a taste into a glass to hand to Aiden. Aiden, looking adorably as if he were copying something he’d seen once in a movie, swirled the glass enthusiastically so that the liquid nearly spilled out and then took a sip. He squinted into the distance before nodding, and we both were poured a glass.
“Have you decided on your dinner?” the waiter asked, wiping the lip of the wine bottle.
I opened my mouth to ask about the duck breast--it was my favorite--but Aiden spoke first. “I am prepared to order for the both of us,” he said in an overly formal voice.
I frowned. I hated being ordered for.
“I will have the buttered duck breast, and the lady will take the grilled salmon caprese salad,” he said, snapping the menu shut. “And let’s have an order of the mushroom julienne to start off.”
“Certainly, sir,” the waiter took their menus and left.
Aiden turned to me. “So, why don’t you-” he stopped with a frown. “What? Is something wrong?”
I felt like steam was about to start pouring out of my ears. “You ordered a salad for me? Without even asking what I wanted?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Seriously? What are you, some kind of Neanderthal?”
The smile and sweetness on his face of a moment before disappeared as a dark look took its place. “Do you want to back that up and try again?” he asked, a note of warning in his voice.
“Uh, no, I don’t actually,” I said. “What the fuck, Aiden?”
His face flushed and he took the napkin from his lap, dropping it on his place setting on the table. “You know, the guys at the station warned me about trying to date you,” he said, his voice calm. “They said, ‘Aiden, the rich are another breed, you’ll never be able to keep up’. I’m starting to realize I should have listened.” He leaned forward, and his eyes, hard now, met mine directly. “Do you have any idea how hard I worked to plan this? This place doesn’t have reservations for years! I had to put down a massive deposit on my credit card and call in every favor I’ve got to get us here tonight.” He shook his head sadly. “I put in a call ahead and asked what they’d recommend for a date you’re trying to impress, and they told me the salmon was freshly caught and the caprese was unbelievable. Did you know that the owners make their own balsamic? And ship the olive oil directly from an olive grove in Tuscany?” He looked at me. “Well? Did you?”
“No,” I said, my voice small and completely unlike me. “I didn’t.”
He leaned over the table, bringing his face closer to mine. “That’s right, you didn’t. So, you mock me for not knowing French. You show off the fancy private school education you got with your Russian words and recognizing the decorations. Fine. I can handle that, I’m not too big a man to not give respect where it’s due. But this? Calling me a Neanderthal? That’s too fuckin’ far.”
I felt as if I’d been slapped in the face. He was right. I’d rushed to make assumptions and hadn’t even let him explain himself. Had I been showing off before by speaking Russian and guessing that’s where the owners were from? If so, it was because that’s the life I was used to.
“I’m sorry, Aiden.”
He shoved his chair back. “I don’t have to sit here and listen to this.” Standing, he walked quickly toward the stairs.
Was dating someone completely outside of my set a chance to grow as a person? I’d seen Jude and all of the changes he made and the happiness it had brought him. Growing as a human being since meeting Brooklyn. Maybe this was my chance, and I was just letting him walk out the door.
“Wait,” I said, leaping up. “Aiden!” I ran behind him until I caught him at the stairs, grabbing his arm and turning him to face me. “Please, wait.”
He looked at me, his face cold.
“I’m sorry, okay?” I took a deep breath. The apology felt so strange. I wasn’t a big apologizer. I usually just did something to make up for it if I was wrong, or if it was anyone but Jude--or previously Margeaux--I didn’t care enough about what they thought to do anything at all.
Maybe that was why I had suddenly found myself all alone, with no one but Jude, and Brooklyn if she counted, to talk to. Since Margeaux and I had fought, my phone hadn’t rang once unless it was my brother.
Maybe I’m the problem.
Worse, he was clearly expecting more than the apology I’d already given. I was in really foreign territory now, without a guide. “You’re right. I jumped on you without giving you a chance to explain. And I probably was showing off before. I’m obnoxious and arrogant and a terrible date. But, would you please give me another shot?” I looked up at him and took his hands in mine. “Please?”
At once, his face warmed. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me gently. “I’d love to,” he said.
“Are you sure? Because I’m sure I’ll be able to hurt you a million times more before dessert.”
He laughed and pulled me into his arms. “I think you’re worth it.” And with a mischievous smile, he leaned down and scooped me up into his arms, startling a delighted whoop from me as he carried me over the threshold and back to our table, where he let me down with a dramatic bow. “Your table, my lady.”
The couple in the corner were staring at us, mouths hanging open.
“I offer transportation services all evening,” Aiden said to them, and then took his seat back at the table.
I shook my head. “You are unlike anyone I have ever met.”
“I could say the same about you.”
I took a sip of my wine and was careful to look pleased, even though it was much softer than I preferred, and not nearly dry enough. Aiden smiled at my reaction.
“Tell me about you,” he said as our appetizer arrived. “I want to know everything about you.”
I laughed. “How much is there to tell that you don’t already know? We met a bit oddly, and so you already know all of the skeletons in my family closet.”
He dished out the appetizer onto two small plates. “Wait until you try this,” he said. “You’re going to die.”
I decided not to tell him I’d tried mushroom julienne in Russia. Plus, it did look like a well-done version of it. As he scooped it out, the cheese made long, thick strings. I noted with a smile that he carefully grabbed out the mushroom pieces, ensuring I had a few peppering my plate.
“It looks divine,” I said, lifting my fork to scoop up a bite.
“Wait,” he said. “Try it with the bread.” He handed me a piece of bread to dip it in.
I really tried my best to avoid bread wherever possible. For some reason, it had started to make my stomach cramp up in the past few months. But I worried if I said something, he’d think I was showing off again, or it would hurt his feelings.
Oh well. It�
�s worth a bit of a stomach ache.
I spooned the dip onto the toasted bread and took a big bite, feeling his eyes on me as I chewed. It really was divine. The cheese and mushrooms combined with sour cream, onion, cream, white wine, and nutmeg for a truly savory appetizer. And it did taste pretty similar to the one I’d had in St. Petersburg. I smiled at him, covering my mouth with my hand in case something had gotten caught in my teeth. “Incredible,” I said.
His face lit up. “Then, I can’t wait for you try the caprese.”
4
Jude
I woke up in Brooklyn’s shitty bed with a crick in my neck, but her head on my chest made it well worth it. Carefully easing out of bed so I wouldn’t wake her up, I stood and stretched, rubbing my hand across my stomach with a yawn. I had to get her out of this rathole.
In the light of day, her attempts to make this piece of shit a home were just… sad. If I ever even hinted at that thought, she’d rip me to pieces, but it was true. The studio was maybe 300 square feet tops, with a peeling vinyl floori that always looked dirty, even if she had just cleaned it. The walls were a dingy white so old they looked gray, and the ceiling would every so often discharge a hunk of plaster onto the floor.
I sighed and went into her bathroom, where I now unfortunately kept a small bag of toiletries. Listen, I know that guys like me are supposed to be tough and cool no matter what, but believe me when I say that even John Wayne himself would have avoided this bathroom. To tell you the truth, I’d rather shit in the woods.
The small sink was perpetually leaking, and the shower stall was so small any attempts to shower together had ended in a soaked floor and no joy. She had tried every kind of lighting to make it appear less like a gas station bathroom on the way to Deliverance, but brighter bulbs only illuminated the cracked tile and stained porcelain.
I brushed my teeth quickly, keeping my eyes on the little pictures she’d hung on the walls and then slipped back out into the main area. She was still sound asleep. Careful to keep my touch as light as possible, I smoothed a lock of red hair out of her face. She was the fiercest person I knew, and I loved being one of the only people in the world to see her face like it was now: relaxed, and at peace.
Vengeful Royals: A Dark College Bully Romance (Heirs of Havoc Book 3) Page 4