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I took a deep breath as Wayne held up his glass of red wine. "What should we toast to?" he asked.
I glanced around the cozy Trattoria Carmelo, taking in the white-washed brick walls, yellow-brown tiles, and murals of the Italian countryside that decorated the space. The place was crowded, given that it was Friday night, but we were seated in a private booth in the back, away from the hustle and bustle.
"How about to new beginnings?" I suggested, raising my glass. We clinked them together, and I took a small sip, the last thing I wanted was to get drunk around Wayne.
"You look gorgeous, and I love that dress," Wayne said, his eyes lingering on my cleavage.
I bet you do. You haven't taken your eyes off my cleavage since I took my coat off.
"Thank you. That suit is very nice on you," I replied, though it really wasn't. The ill-fitting, brown pinstriped suit made it obvious that Wayne had gained a few pounds since we last went out.
He chuckled. "This old thing," he said, gesturing to the suit.
We chatted until our meal arrived, and I couldn't wait until we were at the club. Wayne droned on about his father's business and how much money he was making, and I mentally berated myself for calling him again. After tonight, I was going to block him.
"How is your meal?" Wayne asked as I daintily cut a piece of chicken from the cutlet in front of me.
"Delicious. How did you find this place?" I asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from his father's business.
He grinned. "I'm a stakeholder. My father gave me the money for the share."
Big surprise.
"The food is very delicious," I said, nodding.
"I'd like to bring you here again," Wayne said, snapping his fingers to summon the waiter.
The waiter, dressed in black slacks and a white shirt, hurried over and refilled Wayne's glass. I almost rolled my eyes, but he was watching me, or rather, my cleavage.
"Would you like another glass?" Wayne asked.
"No, thank you. Water is fine," I replied.
"Are you sure?" he pressed.
"Wayne, it's not necessary. Let's let him get back to his other customers," I said, nodding at the waiter.
The waiter gave me a closed-mouth smile before putting the bottle down on the table and hurrying away.
"This is his job," Wayne said, his tone slightly defensive.
"But the bottle is sitting on the table. You could've poured yourself a glass," I protested.
He shot daggers at me. "I see you haven't lost that fire."
“What should we toast to?” Wayne asked as he held up a glass of red wine.
“No, I haven’t. I doubt I ever will,” I said, letting my words hang in the air, daring him to challenge me.
“Someone should tame you,” Wayne said, leaning forward slightly, his eyes locked onto mine.
“I’m not a pet,” I shot back, my tone sharp, but I couldn’t help the smirk tugging at the corner of my lips.
He lowered his voice, a slow grin spreading across his face. “But it’s something I would love to do to you.”
I nearly choked on the bite of food I was chewing. The nerve. Wayne had never touched me in that way, and he never would. Tonight would be the last time I entertained his company. The most we’d ever done was kiss, and the minute his hands started to wander, I’d shut it down and called it a night.
“Do you want dessert?” he asked, his tone shifting back to something more neutral. “We make a wonderful tiramisu.”
