Chapter 136
I wonder what will happen if I scream long and loud in the middle of Adalina, one of Chicago’s fanciest restaurants.
All eyes in the room would turn to us, shocked, scandalized. If I manage a pitch high enough, maybe I’ll even shatter a chandelier over our heads.
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The image brings a smile to my face, and I instantly regret the slip–up when Lucas says, “See? What girl can resist such fine dining?”
My face immediately tightens into a scowl. “I find it hard to appreciate the opulence around me when you’re in my direct line of sight.”
Just like with all my other snipes and jabs, Lucas takes this in stride, chuckling. “And yet, here I am, immensely enjoying my own view.” His eyes slowly rake up and down my body, and I consider throwing up in my water glass.
I pull my gaze away from him, averting it to the menu, which I hold up between us like a barrier. But reading the laminated nightmare is like trying to decode an anagram written in hieroglyphics.
Like, what the hell is Truffled Ceaser? Or Rigatoni Lemongrassata?
I’m way out of depth here, and something tells me Lucas knows and the bastard is enjoying it.
When our server, Marie, returns, she gives us the same plastic, polished smile that every other staff member in this pretentious place
wears.
“Have you had some time to go over the menu?” she asks politely.
I glance back at the menu and feel my face heat up. Marie looks to be about my age. What does she think of us–well, Lucas–being able to afford this kind of restaurant when she probably scrapes by on her salary and tips?
My makeshift defense disappears as Lucas snatches the menu out of my hand, closes it, and hands it to Marie.
“I’ll have the Wagyu A5,” he says in the smug tone of someone who’s tried every item on the menu. His eyes dart to me, and he winks. “She’ll have the Salmon Vesuvio.”
I want to be pissed that he’s doing something so patronizing as ordering for me, but I wouldn’t have even known what to order. I just hope ‘Vesuvio‘ isn’t some kind of poison, or–knowing Lucas–a date rape drug.
“And have you made final choices on your drinks?” Marie asks. “Or I can suggest a wine pairing with your meal.”
Lucas‘ eyes lock on mine and don’t waver when he says, “I’ll have a glass of your Barolo.”
Marie smiles. “Excellent choice, sir. The Barolo’s firm tannins and dark cherry notes will complement the richness perfectly.”
I roll my eyes, and Lucas‘ lips quirk as he continues, “And the lady will have the Marrow Martini.”
Marie’s–I suspect involuntary–inhale has me arching a brow. What the hell is a Marrow Martini?
The waitress beams. “Perfect, sir. I’ll be right back.”
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Chapter 136
…
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She spins on her heels and walks away with a stiff trotting gait, as if she’s holding herself back from rushing to the kitchens and spilling
juicy gossip.
I grit my teeth when I notice Lucas‘ eyes follow the waitress‘ retreat, pointedly on her ass.
“Pig,” I mutter.
He turns to me, and his face hardens ever so slightly. “Excuse me?”
His voice is suddenly so dark and firm that I forget to be sarcastic.
I clear my throat. “I don’t drink.”
He arches a brow. “Aren’t you twenty–one?”
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t say I can’t, I said I don’t.”
Alcohol means lowered inhibitions, and I could never do that when I had a diabetic child to look out for.
I certainly won’t do it now that I have a sexual predator to look out for.
Lucas shrugs. “The Marrow Martini is more than just a drink.”
“Yes, I’m sure it’s a phenomenally decadent experience,” I deadpan. “A real treat, not just for the tongue, but the entire body as a whole.”
Lucas licks his lips, his eyes darkening. “You would be a real treat,” he says lowly, “not just for my tongue, but my entire body as a whole.”
I open my mouth–to scream, to bring this entire fucking restaurant down to its foundation. But then Marie reappears.
“Your Marrow Martini,” she announces smoothly, setting a tray before me. She lifts the glass dome over it, and a fragrant wisp of smoke escapes, revealing a pale golden cocktail.
My earlier repugnance gives way to wary surprise, and I look at Lucas in question. The infuriating bastard just shrugs, smirking.
“It’s crafted with Clase Azul Mezcal, clarified heirloom tomato water, lemon basil olive oil, and a touch of chili liqueur,” Marie continues, “smoked under glass for added depth.”
She gestures to a delicate diamond tennis necklace draped elegantly around the glass’s stem. “And this–our exclusive partnership with Marrow Fine Jewelry. A 9–carat diamond necklace, crafted in 14k gold.”
My jaw hits the table.
“What the fuck?!”
The ostentatious presentation of the drink already garnered some attention, but my exclamation ensures every eye in Adalina is on us.
My face burning, I lean forward and glare at Lucas. “How much did this cost?” I whisper–yell.
He smirks. “Thirteen k.”
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I blink. “Come again?”
He shrugs. “I like my playthings to have pretty things.”
I ignore the disgust that runs through me at his insinuation and glance at the cocktail, inching back as if the pale golden liquid is arsenic.
“Marie,” Lucas says, “do you mind? I’d love to see my date wearing that gorgeous necklace.”
“Of course, sir.”
My eyes widen as she delicately lifts the necklace that costs more than I’m worth and attempts to place it around my neck.
My legs straighten, and I stand so abruptly that Marie stumbles back as my seat crashes to the floor.
I glare at Lucas, the intensity of my hatred burning through me.
“I want to go home.”
He raises a brow, his lips still quirked in that smirk that makes me want to tear his face off.
“The night has barely begun,” he says in a tone that suggests I’m a silly child throwing a tantrum.
“Take me home now, Lucas,” I seethe, “or I’ll scream this fucking restaurant down.”
He folds his arms, making no move to leave. “Tell me why.”
I scoff. “Why? Because I hate you. Because you’re a slimy piece of shit. Because you ordered a fucking thirteen–thousand–dollar drink.”
His jaw clenches, and he waves. I don’t understand what he means, but Marie bows lowly and walks away.
“Sit down.”
“No,” I bite out, and satisfaction runs through me as his face tightens further. We now hold the rapt attention of everyone in the
restaurant.
“April-”
“Take me home, or I will launch myself across this table and scratch your face off.”
Lucas watches me for a beat, those cold eyes calculating.
Finally, he stands. “Go to the car. I’ll pay for your drink.”
He nods towards the necklace. “Take it.”
“I would rather wear a python around my neck.”
He scoffs and takes it, slipping it into his pocket before he walks away.
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Chapter 136
I don’t hesitate to grab my purse and head for the door.
Finally, this dreadful night can come to an end.
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