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“My heart skipped a beat when I saw all this.” She waves her arm through the sultry air, her gaze following it to the ocean. “I don’t need to taste a morsel to know why this is your favorite restaurant. With this view, it doesn’t matter if they serve a perfectly cooked filet or soggy fish-and-chips.”
She’s right, and I’m pleased she sees it the way I do. The food is great, but I come for the view, and with her across the table from me, it’s never been better.
“The owners are good people, and the view is breathtaking no matter how many times I see it. But the food is good, too, and unpretentious. Plus, the tourists don’t know about it.”
“I’m surprised it’s not crowded on a Friday night. Wait a minute.” She smiles shrewdly, narrowing her gaze. “You rented the restaurant for the evening.”
It’s not a question, and I don’t respond. I’m becoming more confident that Russo did his job. But I won’t take chances with her safety, even if it means paying a popular restaurant to close its doors for part of the evening.
“My family doesn’t often go out to dinner in London,” she says softly, “unless it’s a special occasion. When we do, it means closing the restaurant—or at least part of it. Most people don’t recognize my mother or me. My father’s been zealous about keeping our photos out of the media—especially mine.”
Zealous—the understatement of the year.
“But his face is very recognizable,” she continues, “and he doesn’t travel light. When he’s with us—everything’s a big production.”
I enjoyed studying in London, but it’s easier for people like us to go about our business here. There are more opportunities for a normal life.
“Porto is much smaller than London. Most of the time it’s easy to be out and about—although not without some advance planning. Still, it’s rarely necessary to shut down an entire restaurant.”
Her brow furrows. “But it was necessary tonight. Is that because you think the traffickers are still a risk?”
I could tell her that I asked them to close because I wanted us to have the place to ourselves. It would go a long way to easing the lines on her forehead, but I won’t lie to her.
“From all we’ve found, Russo cleaned up everything, at least the most dangerous elements. But we haven’t had enough time to turn over every rock. You’re far too precious to take chances with, Angel.”
I reach across the table and take her hand, rubbing small circles over the inside palm with my thumb.
“They didn’t close for the evening. No amount of money can make that happen on short notice. And I’m not arrogant enough to ask,” I tease, coaxing a smirk from her. “They just didn’t do a late seating. Except for one table inside. A couple is celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary, and I didn’t want to spoil their plans. Karma and all that.”
“Karma and all that,” she mocks. “Admit it, Huntsman…you have a good heart.”
“There are plenty of people who would disagree with you.”
“Only because they don’t know you.”
She gives me more credit than she should. I pride myself on being fair, but there’s nothing good about me.
“Don’t put me on a pedestal, Angel. It could come crashing down on you. My heart is anything but pure.”
A waiter brings Port tonics and tapas to the table, ending that conversation.
Lexie holds up her drink. “Cheers,” she says when I touch my glass to hers.
“Saude,” I reply, taking a sip of what I’m quite certain is a cocktail made with Huntsman white Port.
“This looks yummy,” she says, helping herself to a croquette.
“You get what you get here. But I’ve never been disappointed. Elliot goes to the market and to the dock each morning, and dinner is whatever catches his eye and imagination. He cooks like your mother or grandmother might cook.”
“Clearly you’ve never had my mother’s cooking,” she jokes, taking a bite of croquette.
Every inch of this gorgeous woman is spirited and fun—and so very fuckable. If we get through our main course tonight, it’ll be a damn miracle.
She turns her head toward the ocean and closes her eyes, soaking in the briny scent and the spray. “This is heaven.”
“I think so too. When I was a kid, and anxious about something”—like when my father let the strap fly or locked me in the attic—“I’d call up the smell of the ocean or the sound of the surf to calm me. Even now it’s the first place I go when I have a lot on my mind.”
“That’s why you spend so much time at Sirena. From a distance, it looks like it’s part of the sea.”
