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4. I Make Some Bad Decisions

"Your hands are so cold," I blurted out after taking hold of one that was resting on the table. I tried to rub some warmth into it. Did he need my wrap or something?

"I have naturally cold hands," Sergio said. "In fact, my whole body is cold to the touch. Sparing you the medical particulars, the condition isn't hazardous to my health but merely the result of a curious way the blood flows through my veins."

"How odd," I said. I let go of his hand, suddenly shy. "So what do you do for a living?" I asked him as we waited for our food to arrive.

"I orchestrate business dealings between wealthy people and companies. A middleman of sorts. It involves attending lots of meaningless parties and sucking up to lots of pompous asses, but I do get to travel, so it isn't all bad."

"Oh, I can imagine," I said, rolling my eyes. "Fancy parties, card games in back rooms with millionaires... I don't know how you can stand it."

He rubbed his chin. "You're right, of course. Every job has its unsavory bits, and mine does come with better perks than most."

"Like a Corvette."

He smiled his typical close-mouthed smile. "Like a Corvette. And taking beautiful women on expensive dates."

I swirled my wine in the glass as an excuse to look away from him for a moment. "I bet you meet many beautiful women."

"Beautiful, yes, but superficial—bound in the pursuit of pleasure. Unlike you."

My breath hitched at his sincerity, and I tried to lighten the mood. "Pulling the 'not like the other girls' line. I expected better from you. But I'm glad you think I'm not beautiful or superficial."

He smiled at the ground. "You are extraordinarily beautiful, and you have one of the most exquisite minds I have ever encountered." He looked back up at me, his face suddenly solemn. He was about to say something else, but Sarah brought over our food, and we let the conversation lapse so we could eat. He seemed glad of the excuse not to speak.

I hoped he wasn't having second thoughts. It was difficult to admit to myself, but I liked this guy more than I thought. I wanted him to like me too.

My pizza had been baked in a stone oven, and a dusting of flour coated the bottom. It was delicious. I tried to savor it, but Sergio was making me nervous. He picked at his food and kept staring at me intently then looking away guiltily.

My phone showed that it was now 9:00, so I texted Katie again under the table.

Me: Still not kidnapped. Having dinner

Katie: Ha ha. Watch yourself

I eased up the full-frontal attack on my pizza as my stomach filled.

When Sergio offered me one of his clams, I tried it, but the look on my face as the slimy thing slid down my throat must have been priceless because he chuckled behind his hands. But too quickly, the smile dropped from his face. Something was distracting him, not letting him enjoy the dinner.

I excused myself to the bathroom to check that nothing was glaringly wrong with my appearance. Nothing stuck in the teeth. Hair a little messy, but not disastrous. I touched up my makeup and then headed back to the table.

Sergio rested his crossed arms on the table as I sat down. He met my eyes, and this time, he didn't look away. "I must be honest with you."

Crap. Fuck. Hell in a handbasket. "Oh?" I didn't have the strength to think of a witty reply.

"You and I—a relationship between us—would not work."

Tears stung my eyes. It had been going so well, hadn't it? What had I done wrong? "I see."