“It’s still food.”
I looked at Viktor. “Throw it away. Have someone run to Pauly’s seafood. It’s not even a block from here. Get Barbara a salmon meal with shrimp.”
“Yes, sir.”
I pointed at him. “No shells. And have them cut up the salmon and shrimp into small pieces so she doesn’t have to work too hard.”
“Should they get Rose something too?”
“I’m right here—”
I sighed. “Rose has been naughty, but get her the fried lobster sandwich with caviar lime. She’s new to Paradise and she doesn’t get why everyone is raving about the limes.”
“I don’t want anything to eat.” Rose pulled out honey. “And who is Barbara?”
“The cat.” I placed the book on the table.
“That’s not her name.”
“Then, what is it?”
She sighed. “I haven’t thought of anything yet.”
“Who gave you the cat?”
“How did you know someone gave it to me?”
“You’re unprepared to take care of her.”
“Whatever.” She put the honey away. “My mother sent the cat down. She’s trying to lure out my mothering side or something.”
“My vote is for the cat to be called Barbara Whiskers, since you like Barbara Walters.” I pointed to the huge coffee table book of the journalist near the couch. “What do you think, Viktor?”
He hung his phone, probably after giving the command to get Barbara food. “What about Journey. Short for journalism.”
“I see what you did there, Viktor. I like that.”
“You both are insane.” Rose continued to set up.
Viktor went back to his game. “Deadline works too.”
Rose sighed. “You can’t come to a person’s place and rename their pets.”
Viktor’s game beeped. “Tabloid would be cute too.”
“Good, but Barbara Whiskers is too perfect.” I leaned back in the chair. “Anyway, back to our date.”
“Which isn’t happening.”
I eyed her. “Because?”
Rose spooned honey into each cup. “You’ve bullied me into not doing stories—”
“Because I want to keep you alive.”
“Dimitri, we’re not on the same side.”
“There are no true sides to Paradise. It’s just a big circle that I help command.”
“You know what I’m saying.”
“Then, when we discuss the Diamond Thief’s Secret Baby, it will be during the evening and at a location of my choosing where we will enjoy an exquisite meal, expensive wine, and intelligent conversation.”
“I doubt that would ever happen.”
“It will. You’re an adrenaline junkie.”
Watching me, she didn’t move. “I’m not an adrenaline junkie.”
“You’re bored and haven’t been fucked in a long time. You take risks. You go traveling. You’re searching this planet trying to feel something.”
“You really think you know me, but you—”
“What would make you feel more alive than going on a date with a gangster?”
“Is that how you see yourself?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I leaned forward. “That’s how you see me.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I understand you well enough to know that I would enjoy your company one evening and well into the night and maybe even in the morning too.”
A blush hit her face.
The tea kettle whistled.
My phone chose that moment to ring.
Now what?
Frowning, I pulled out my phone and answered, “Yes?”
To my shock, Chanel’s voice came on. “Dima, can we talk?”
I never heard Chanel sound so nervous in my life. I hoped to God that she didn't know about her husband's death or that Lei did it.
I put my back to Rose. “What’s wrong?”
“I can't tell you on the phone. Please come to my place. I was told by my people that you were at the Promenade with the reporter. Marcelo called me about her this morning. I’m glad you’re killing her.”
“I’m not. You all need to take it down a notch when it comes to how we handle her.”
“So, then you’re going to fuck the reporter first?”
“I'll be there in ten minutes.”
“Thank you so much, Dima.”
I hung up and turned back to Rose.
She poured hot water into the cups. Steam rose in a long line and swirled around her. The clear water twisted and turned as it slowly tinted to brown. The whole scene was a peaceful sight to behold. I yearned to stay with her longer and discuss our date more.
Regret filled my chest. I rose, grabbed the book, and walked into the kitchen. “Sorry, Ms. Walsh, but I have to take care of something. I’m going to take my tea to-go.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You’re taking my teacup?”
I walked over to her and picked up the cup. “How else would I be able to drink your tea?”
“And when will I get my teacup back?”
“On our date. The one where we will discuss this secret baby.” In one hand, I held my borrowed book. In the other hand, I dug into my pocket, pulled out the memory card, and placed it on the counter. “A promise is a promise.”
She reached for it.
I moved it out of her way. “Remember. It would be dangerous to print this.”
“Then, why did you give it back to me?”
“Two reasons. First, it is yours. Second, I trust that you've learned your lesson.”