Page 31 of When Sinners Hate
He picks up one of the decanters and sloshes a large measure of drink into a glass and downs it, but no words fall to contradict what I was told.
“Okay then,” I muse, standing next to him. “Pour me a drink.” He does. “I’d like to talk about what I can do because, frankly, I’m going out of my mind being locked away here. I couldn’t even persuade Mariana to go for lunch.”
He nods, but it’s clear he didn’t hear a word I said because he would have an opinion as to what I’m allowed or not allowed to do – he all but declared that when I arrived. But it’s been weeks now, and we’re married, and I need to be smarter when it comes to our relationship.
“Why don’t you take me to dinner? We’re not on a honeymoon, but we can still have a civilised dinner as husband and wife? I’ll even drive you.” I smile, and a part of me has a genuine interest as to what’s on his mind to make him act so differently. I made the effort yesterday, and I got my first step in any kind of positive direction.
“Fine. Bellini’s.”
I hide my eye roll. After getting married at the place, I’d hoped we might eat somewhere else. “Great. I’ll go and change. You can help if you like?” I run my fingertips over his shoulders as I step past him.
“Don’t. Just get dressed.” He looks me up and down, the first glimpse that he’s even seen me today.
“Are you tempted? Isn’t that a job of a wife?” I bite my lower lip.
“Your job is to do as I say. And every time you pull this sexy fake shit, you remind me of who you really are. Go before I change my mind.”
After using my looks as my only real form of attack for so long, it’s hard not to fall back and rely on them, but Abel’s right, and I could scream at myself for the mistake as I walk upstairs.
I pull out a dress and heels, refresh my face and pull my hair back into a sleek ponytail. Understated but still with an edge of glamour. He might not want me to look or dress the way I’m used to, but I have my limits.
Arriving back downstairs, I find him waiting in the hall. So, without another word, I take the keys from the side table and walk out to the car, not giving him the chance to change his mind about me driving. Surprisingly, he lets me with no complaint, so I slide into the seat and start the engine.
Maybe cars can be our level ground.
“Do I need to warn you to be careful with my car?”
“Abel, I know more about your car than you do. Relax.” For the first time today, he actually smiles. It’s soft, almost resigned in some ways, but it's there. No scowl, no temper. And I like it.
We arrive in one piece, and being behind the wheel helped improve both our moods. My smile is still genuine as I pull up to the restaurant and hand the keys to the valet.
“I’ll be the one taking those back.”
“Spoilsport,” I pout at him but let him lead me inside. “So, if I’m not allowed to keep driving your car, what about one of my own?”
He looks at me. "The same?”
“Well, beggars can’t be choosers. You can call it a wedding gift. I’ll even allow you to choose it for me, but I do like yours.”
We enter, and I glance around the familiar surroundings, now back to the usual restaurant setup. Despite it being early, it’s still busy, but there’s no problem finding a table, it seems.
“Champagne?” Abel asks. It’s on the tip of my tongue to smile and agree, all happy and showy, but that’s not what I want.
“Actually, I’ll have sparkling water and a Mojito, please.”
“Whisky. Neat.” The waiter nods and turns. “Are you going to surprise me by what you pick on the menu as well?”
“You asked for honesty. Champagne is too dry for my taste. And I don’t think we’ve eaten together enough for you to know what I’d enjoy on the menu.”
“You were insistent on Champagne last time.”
“I was, wasn’t I. But now, I’d like to understand the parameters better.”
“Parameters?” he questions.
“Yes, I think it will help us both.” And I know it will help me understand the inner workings of Abel Cortez, and, despite our start, the thought he might open up to me is appealing. Sexy, even. This powerful, unapologetic man is sexy as hell when he’s brooding. Less so when he’s taking it out on me, though.
“Okay. You asked what you could do earlier.”