Page 51 of Save Me
“That one time when I kicked out your friend’s ex,” he reminds me.
I shake my head. “Before that.” That night I also got the sense we’d met before. A familiarity I can’t put my finger on.
He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses my fingers. “If you don’t remember, then it wasn’t a memorable enough meeting.”
He holds out an arm. “The pilot and crew are waiting.”
With my fingers still tingling from where he kissed, I give a subtle nod and let Dae escort me to the private jet set to take us to a destination only he knows.
“I can’t believe this,” I say as I stare up at the beautifully painted cylindrical ceiling of the famous Jettison Library and Museum. “This place is closed for the day. How did you do this?” I ask Dae.
There’s a satisfied glint in his eyes.
“The family of a military friend of mine donates a lot to this library. His father is on the board. I pulled a favor.”
I narrow my eyes. “Did you serve in the Korean military together?”
He nods. “He has family here and in Korea. He lives here in New York now.”
I nod in understanding, my attention turning to the shelves stacked with historical books, paintings on the walls, and designs detailing hundreds of years of history.
Dae comes up beside me, and again, that familiar warmth invades my senses whenever he touches me, especially when he places his hand on the small of my back.
“We have time to take it all in.”
My stomach chooses that moment to growl embarrassingly loud. I didn’t eat much on the flight and regret it now. Finding something to eat will require leaving here, and it’s the last thing I want to do.
“After dinner, we can explore,” he says.
I frown. “I don’t want to leave.”
He pops an eyebrow. “Who said we have to leave?” A pair of double doors open from the back of the room, and two men roll in a table.
“Sir, your dinner is ready,” says the host who first welcomed us.
“We’re having a private dinner for two right here.”
A smile touches my lips, and I have an immense urge to kiss him. Yet, I don’t. It’s too soon to kiss him like he’s mine or something. Isn’t it?
Dae holds out my chair as I take a seat at the table. It’s not until he takes his seat that the waiter lifts the lids off our plates, revealing beautiful meals of steamed vegetables, mushroom risotto, and cajun honey-butter salmon.
Again, my stomach growls.
Dae narrows his eyes. “Did you skip lunch again today?”
“No,” I defend. “I had a bowl of vegetable soup.”
He frowns. “That’s it?”
“That’s all I had time for,” I grumble, unfolding my napkin and placing it across my lap.
He curses under his breath, which makes me laugh for some reason.
“This looks amazing. Mushroom risotto is one of my favorites.”
“Is it?” he asks while pouring me a glass of the red wine left by our waiter.
My eyelids fall closed upon taking my first bite of the risotto. The delicious, creamy herb flavor bursts in my mouth. “It’s perfect,” I mumble. “It’s so good it reminds me of my first risotto in Rome.”