Page 30 of Dark Soul

“Really fit. Not that I’ve been looking. But I couldn’t help but notice …” She waved vaguely towards his front, as if he would obviously know what she meant.

“Okay …” he said gamely. “Anything else?”

She pulled up a second finger. “You don’t look at the room like a writer. You chose the seat by the wall, and ever since we sat down, you’ve looked up every time the door has opened. So, either I’m really uninteresting, or—“

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking contrite. “I might have been distracted by the door, but I don’t want to give you the impression I don’t want to be here with you.”

Her third finger went up. “Third, you said you’ve eaten worse things.” Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t see where you could have eaten something worse than that,” she finished, in a hushed tone, so the waiter wouldn’t hear.

Dark stared at her for a moment, before his harsh expression softened and he cracked a smile. “I didn’t always write for television,” he admitted. “I was in the Army. But that was a long time ago. The staring at the door thing is a habit that’s hard to break.”

“The US Army?” she asked, wide-eyed.

Dark nodded. “It was a long time ago, as I said. Now, why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?”

“Uh, there isn’t that much to say. I’m probably the most boring person you’re likely to meet in Gstaad.”

“I doubt that very much.”

Something shone in his eyes, and it felt a lot like … appreciation. It’d been a long time since she’d been looked at this way—maybe never. And though his eyes stayed on her face, she could see how much he wanted to look down, and she was suddenly glad she’d taken the time to change into her favorite outfit, a black silk blouse and a pair of tailored black pants that highlighted her curves and made her waist look smaller than it really was.

* * *

Dark

Dark was feeling extremely proud of himself. He’d managed to keep his eyes on Alexia’s face all through the appetizer, when everything inside him was calling to him to take another look at her breasts.

Then the pizza came.

He watched Alexia fold her slice in half, like a pro, and take a healthy bite. As she chewed and swallowed, she made a little sound of appreciation that was somewhere between a whimper and a moan.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t helping him relax.

Moments later, her tongue came out to lick a spot of tomato sauce off her lips.

And fuck if he didn’t want to do that for her.

Fuck if he didn’t want to be the tomato sauce, to learn what those rosy lips of hers tasted like.

His own slice lay limp in his hand—and it might be the only thing that was limp, because his cock was certainly standing at attention. Dark was glad for the table between them, so she couldn’t see.

Her beautiful green eyes caught his across the pie. She smiled, looking half-embarrassed.

“This is really good. Almost as good as the pizza back in New York. I’ve really missed it.”

“Is the food not good at your employer’s place?” Dark was careful not to use Kvyat’s name, since she hadn’t mentioned it.

She seemed cautious with details about her employer’s family, and Dark appreciated that. She wasn’t naïve—she understood she was working for an uber-wealthy family.

But there was something else. Dark could tell Alexia was hiding something. When she’d spoken of the job, saying she’d taken it looking for a new experience, he’d sensed she wasn’t telling the complete truth. But he was pretty good about gaging people, and whatever she was hiding seemed … personal … in nature.

Maybe she’s running from a bad breakup.

He was determined to find out.

“The food’s okay,” she said, taking another bite. But some of the light had gone out of her eyes, as if the thought of her job—or something about it—bothered her.

She swallowed, then spoke again. “The food’s very good. They have a private chef. It’s just too rich, too … luxurious, I guess, for my taste.” She gave a little self-deprecating laugh. “That probably sounds ridiculous, right?”