AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Okay. I won’t push, but if anything or anyone at the club makes you feel uncomfortable, will you come to me? I’d hate to see you like the other night ever again.”
“Sure,” I say quietly, looking at my feet.
Wint loops his arm through mine, startling me and making me look up. “Let’s hit the bank before it closes and then we’ll get you your essentials.”
I smile, glad that he’s letting it go so easily, and let him guide me down the street, but I can’t shake the feeling of being watched.
Three hours later we’ve shopped til we dropped and Wint’s arms are laden with the ’essentials’ he thinks I need. I’m just pleased with my new coat and winter boots. I didn’t really need the other stuff – wanting to save my money for paying back my landlord – but he insisted. I didn’t let him pay though.
He pursed his lips at that – his eyes promising retribution on the matter at some point.
I don’t dare check my bank account. I know I’ve been paid an obscene amount, even after only a few days at work. I need to talk to them about last night too. I didn’t technically work at the club, so I hope they’re not paying me for that. I can’t bear the thought of being paid to get fucked. But I also can’t bring myself to raise the issue with Wint and spoil such a nice afternoon.
We take the bags back to the car but I get the impression Wint doesn’t want our time together to end. Or maybe that’s just me. I’m dragging my feet, not getting in the car, looking for an excuse to drag this out.
“Do you want to get a late lunch? Or an early dinner? I know a great Italian place just around the corner from here.”
“I love Italian,” I beam at him. He chuckles.
“I know. Shall we?”
“Please!”
He takes my arm again and it feels like a date as he leads us down the streets to an area of town I’m all too familiar with. I look over my shoulder, unable to shake the feeling that we’re being followed. Or at the very least watched. My stomach churns.
We’re heading towards the theatre district, which makes sense as there’s loads of great restaurants near there. When we pass the doorway I used to sleep in, I stumble.
Not because of the memory, but because Wint suddenly slows down and starts peering into every shop entryway and alley.
“A-are you looking for someone?” I ask, my voice shaking.
“Sorry.” He shakes his head. “It’s an old habit.”
He guides me to the restaurant and my heart thumps with every step until we’re seated in a nice, family-run Italian. Only then do I relax a little. The place is homely, warm and welcoming. Nothing like the other up-scale restaurants around us. The owners greet Wint warmly, kissing his cheeks and giving me an appraising once over. He introduces us in fluent Italian and suddenly I’m swept into their arms and kissed and fawned over like I’m family. Leaning against the doorway, Wint smiles the entire time, seeming proud of their easy acceptance of me. What do I know? I can’t speak a word of Italian. For all I know they hate me and have excellent poker faces, but something in Wint’s intense gaze makes me think I’m just being silly.
When we take our seats and order, I lean back and sip my water.
“Want to tell me what that was all about?”
“Oh, the Russos are practically family. We grew up next to them and they became like adoptive parents to me when I lost mine.”
“I’m sorry. I’m an orphan too. They seem like lovely people.”
“They’re the best. I learnt to cook thanks to Mama Russo. I think cooking showcases a part of your soul to the person you’re feeding. You can tell if people are honourable through their food. Everything Mama Russo makes is made with love, you’ll be able to taste it.”
I smile at his words, because I agree with him. Wint is one of the nicest, kindest people I’ve ever met, and I could taste that in his cooking. From the first mouthful, I knew I could trust him. Jamie burnt his fucking pot noodles and swears blind one once gave him food poisoning. From. A. Pot. Noodle.
If excellent cooking showcases how pure a soul is, then his was rotten to the bone and I should have known it from the start.
“I love that,” I nod. “I think you’re right. But I was referring to what happened out there on the street. You went a bit…weird for a minute. Are you okay?”
“Sorry. It’s a habit.” He takes a drink of his water, choosing to match me instead of having wine with his meal. He said it’s because he’s driving, but I know he would have been okay after one glass with food. It makes me like him even more – whether he’s doing it to make me feel more comfortable, or whether it’s because he takes safety seriously and never drinks and drives. I appreciate it.
“Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to.”
“Actually, that’s fine. It would be nice to talk to someone, as I’ve never mentioned it to the guys.”
“Okay, well, I’m all ears.” I give him a reassuring smile and take a sip of my water.
