A Kitten Called Cat

Chapter Three - Spaghetti Carbonara

The lift whirred and, a couple of seconds later, a man stepped out. He was not particularly tall and quite slight and he was dressed in smart, casual clothing but something about the way he moved basically screamed 'military!'

But he was carrying a large wicker basket that smelt of pizza so I wasn't really all that bothered what he looked like.

"Evening, Sir, Ma'am," he said briskly as he carried that fascinating basket across into the kitchen. Mr Bossy prodded a couple of buttons on his phone and the magic entertainment system started filling the room with some violin type music. It wasn't the sort of thing I would ever have dreamt of listening to in a million years but it basically fitted the room and the atmosphere perfectly.

A short time later a pair of double doors opened behind us. It probably says a lot about how zoned out I'd been that, even though I'd spent most of the day in that room, I'd managed to completely miss the huge and moderately ornate pair of double doors in the wall behind me. I guess I never looked in their direction because they were in the opposite wall, away from his snazzy television.

"Dinner is ready," Mr Military announced.

Mr Bossy offered me his hand and helped me to my feet. "Catherine, Elroy. Elroy, Catherine," he introduced us. "Amongst other things, Elroy manages the day-to-day running of the apartment."

"Does other things include bodyguard?" I asked with a smile. I didn't really expect an answer.

He gave me a slight frown for asking the wrong sort of question but then said, "Well, if things do become unpleasant, Elroy is certainly a good man to have on your side."

"True?" he asked Elroy.

"I have my moments!" Elroy half agreed with a little grin. "Will there be anything else, Sir?"

"No. That's all, thanks. I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, Elroy departed.

"Dinner, Kitten?" Mr Bossy asked, grabbing my attention with a quick kiss on the cheek.

We stepped into the dining room together - the double doors were plenty big enough. It was a grand, formal room with dark furniture including a long table which was covered with a crisp, white tablecloth. Two places had been set at the near end with a couple of covered plates and a bowl of salad in between. There was a bottle of wine, already opened, in an ice bucket.

Mr Bossy pulled my chair out for me then eased it back in for me as I sat down. Any other time, it would have been totally over the top but here, in this posh room, it seemed to work. On the side plate in front of me, rolled up in a silver napkin ring, there was a napkin - a proper crisp, white, linen napkin not some paper thing. He took it out of the ring, shook it out with a flourish and then laid it across my lap for me. I felt like I was the queen or something.

Then he adopted a slightly formal pose as he poured a glass of wine for me. "This is a Pinot Grigio," he told me, "and I think it will work quite well with both your pizza and my pasta."

I moved my hand towards my glass to taste it but his hand flashed out and gently caught mine. "You should wait, please, Kitten," he told me. "That's considered rude." But he let me know that he wasn't being Mr Grumpy by giving the hand he was still holding a gentle kiss.

I giggled embarrassingly then said, "Oh! I'm sorry."

"That's quite alright. I presume you were unaware." He gave my hand a little squeeze then let it go.

He poured a glass for himself and then took his place opposite me. "It's a white wine so you hold the glass by the stem and not the bowl," he explained. I did as directed and then he touched our glasses together. I guess because we were both holding them by the stem they made a very pleasant 'cling' noise.