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“You hate Miami,” I stated in a whisper.
“No. Not at all. I love the city, it’s all I’ve known.” The car stopped and I was trapped in his gaze. “It just means that beautiful things can’t replace the threatening danger.” Ilias removed his gaze as I thought about his words. “Anyway, I hope you are hungry.”
“Wait!” I stopped him from opening the door, and his attention turned back to me. “Wouldn’t it be dangerous to go inside?”
“It looks pretty quiet, Davina.” I looked through the window of the small restaurant where only a lone woman was eating in the corner. “Plus, mostly only Russians and Romanians come here.” He sat straight in his seat. “Are you hiding from either?”
Before I had the chance to think, I blurted, “No,” and closed my eyes at the admission that I’d, once again, given him something that could bring him closer to the truth.
“Good. I was thinking of ordering it to-go, and we can eat it in the car. Sounds good?”
“Perfect.”
We walked in side by side, and in anyone’s eyes we looked like a couple. The place was quaint, only two people worked behind the counter and two more were in the kitchen.
One of the guys from the back poked his head out when Ilias ordered a Kulebyakaafter I shrugged at the menu.
“Ilias!” The older man said in a heavy Slavic accent, dusting his hands on his white apron. A wide smile proudly showcased his age around his eyes while his shoulder-length hair was tied in a low ponytail. “I read an order for a meat filled Kulebyaka, and I knew it had to be you or your brother. How’s Viktor?”
Viktor?
“Ah Dima, good to see you are still kicking. Viktor is working as he should be,” Ilias joked, and his demeanor had relaxed since walking inside the deli.
“How rude of me, and this is?” The older man Ilias called Dima looked my way. His platinum hair was trapped under a mesh cap, but his smile remained as he waited for a response.
I looked over Ilias as he was ready to reply, but I quickly cut him off from speaking, afraid he may have said my real name, and not the one I was told to give. “Morgan, nice meeting you.”
“The pleasure is all mine, hope you like authentic Russian cuisine,” Dima said enthusiastically.
“I do, syrniki is my favorite dish.” I quickly replied. Dima's eyes lit up and they looked over Ilias. I couldn’t yet find the courage to see Ilias’s reaction after mentioning the syrniki he had made for me. It was the only Russian meal I’d ever had. And here I was, acting as if I knew about the Russian culture, and cuisine.
“Ahh, she’s a good one, Ilias,” Dima murmured, and his name was called from the kitchen. “We’ll bring it out to your car, okay? Oh, and say hi to your brother!”
“Of course, and thank you. It was great seeing you, Dima,” Ilias replied, and Dima waved before he retreated to the same door he poked his head out.
Looking up to Ilias, his eyes watched me from the side with a smirk. “Damn, if I didn’t know any better, you could have fooled me,” he whispered through his side grin. “Let’s go and wait in the car, Morgan.” His smile was wide.
“Oh my God, stop it!” I hissed and followed him to the door.
The feeling of someone watching made me flick my eyes to the corner of the small deli. I met the gaze of a young woman, who couldn't be much older than me, with long straight ash-blonde hair, perfect symmetrical face and large dark eyes. She was beautiful, and her attention slid to Ilias, then back to me before she continued wrapping silverware with napkins.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Ilias wasn’t a man who would be left unnoticed. The way he carried himself spoke volumes, and if you were to add his looks, he was a threat to any woman.
“Morgan.” Ilias smirked while his eyes watched the street, one hand keeping the passenger door open for me.
With the moon now shining outside, minimal light filtered through the obscure windows of Ilias's car. Low classic rock music played in the background, filling the silence of our hidden smiles as we waited for our food. By Dima’s reaction, it wasn’t Ilias’s first time coming here to eat. I would even call him a regular.
“So…” I broke the silence. “I’m guessing Lucca is not your only brother?”
“You caught that, huh?”
“Kind of hard not to when it’s very loudly spoken.”
Ilias laughed and rubbed his hand over his face.
“I have three brothers. All older than me.”
“You are the baby?” I cooed playfully, earning a side look to drop it. Instead, I pressed for a bit more of him. “So, is Viktor the eldest?”
