73. Zola

Chapter 73

Zola

I spent the rest of the day working, or at least trying my best to, but I kept glancing at my phone. I hadn't sent him a message because I didn’t want to distract him, but I was hoping he'd send a little note. It was already dinnertime and there was still no call or note.

When it was time for dinner, I headed to the kitchen with the intention of helping set the table or something, but I was told in no uncertain terms to either go back to the dining room to wait until I was served, or I could go pick a bottle of wine from his huge selection of great wines in the cellar. I opened the cellar and was amazed by how vast it was. Everything was clearly labeled and I found a vintage bottle of red wine that looked like it must cost the earth and took it upstairs. Marie said she would pop it open and decant it to let it breathe.

A message arrived on my phone.

On my way home. Shall we dine together?

I was surprised and so excited about the prospect I felt butterflies flooding into my stomach. He was coming home to eat with me. I'd never really had this before. Even when my father was alive, I'd always eat on my own, and it was one of the bones of contention between us. But here I was with Dante, creating something akin to a little family. With someone I felt so absolutely loved and cherished by. I didn't know how it happened or how it came together, but I was incredibly happy it had.

I texted him back.

Me: How close are you? I'll wait for you.

Dante: About six minutes .

I was impatient to see him. I wanted to go to the door and wait for him, but would that make me too clingy or house-wifey? I went to the kitchen instead, and despite Marie’s protests, I was able to charm my way into letting me carry some plates and silverware to the table. At that moment we heard voices coming from the foyer, and before I could say a word she had taken the plates I was holding and pushed me off.

"He's here. Go," she urged, her eyes bright and encouraging.

I tried to control mine but found it incredibly hard to. I stood by the door but kept myself just out of sight till he dismissed the two men who were with him. He spotted me as soon as he turned, and he looked tired, I didn't miss the slight tilt of his lips in a smile.

Then the men left, the door was shut, and I was left alone with him. I ran toward him. I couldn't take my eyes off him, wishing his shoulder would heal quicker so he could be well and strong.

I threw my arms around him and laid my face against his chest.

“God, I missed you,” I whispered, listening to the steady beat of his heart and breathing in the scent of him.

I could feel the fatigue and tiredness seep out of his body as ours connected, and it made me happy I could at least do that much for him. It also made me immensely worried that the state he was in brought even more danger into the mix. He was now a much slower and easier target, and this fear I couldn't hide from my eyes when I pulled away.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice noticeably softer. “I think we should wait till you're better before you take Ugo on.”

He smiled crookedly. “Don't worry. I know I'm physically not in the best condition, but it’s not brute force that will bring him down. In fact, it could actually be my hidden advantage. Thinking that I am weak will make him careless and overconfident.”

“Okay,” I nodded.

We started to head to the dining room, our fingers entwined. He took his seat at the head of the table and I sat beside him. I noticed that Marie had come in and already poured the wine into glasses.

He picked up his glass and held it up. “To a world without Ugo.”

He set the glass down. “Do you like it?”

“I do.”

Two of Marie’s girls came in carrying plates of food and bowls of lemon water.

The first dish was a langoustine barbecued on open charcoal. The presentation was spectacular. Every bit of the meat had been meticulously removed from the shell and laid out. The blackened shell was filled with hot herb butter and bergamot mussel broth. We had to pour the fragrant liquid onto the charred meat, then clean our fingers in the bowls of warm lemon water.

I had to confess, my father had taken me to some of the top restaurants in the country, and I had never eaten anything so delicious. Indeed, Marie had magic fingers.

Someone had put on an Italian opera and the muted sound was piped into the dining room. We ate in silence because the outside world, meaningless conversations, and the mundane couldn’t come into this sacred space. This was our universe where there was no need for words. We looked into each other’s eyes and we smiled wordlessly because neither of us could believe how perfect everything was.

The main course was a freshwater fish, burbot. It had been specially flown in that morning. The tender meat had been skillfully wrapped in seaweed, skewered onto bamboo sticks and lightly grilled. It was served with a creamy coconut and cherry leaf sauce. As soon as my lips closed over the fish, it melted in my mouth. Heavenly.

Marie was not messing around. Dessert was ice cream made with hazelnut and caviar. I would never have imagined such a combination. The smile on Dante’s face was all I needed to slip the spoon into my mouth.

It was divine!