There is a knock on the door, and I forget about it as Cole pops his head in, smiling that delicious half smile. “Hi. Devon said you were on a call. Are you done?” he asks.
“Yes, all done. I am happy to see you,” I say and embrace him tightly.
“Everything okay? You look a bit shaken,” he asks concerned.
“I’
m good, baby. It’s nothing,” I say with a smile and then give him a once over. I whistle and say, “Wow, check you out.”
His half smile widens, and he gestures to himself, dressed in a navy-blue suit with a white shirt. “What? This old thing?” he says.
I giggle and he glances appreciatively at me. “You look beautiful,” he says and kisses me chastely. “Do you mind if I drive us to dinner?” he asks.
“No, of course not. Any particular reason why?” I ask, and then the penny drops. “You want to take the Veyron?”
He grins. “I do, is that okay?”
“Of course. What’s mine is yours,” I add, and then realize that might be a bit heavy on the commitment, but he doesn’t seem fazed.
I take his hand and we stroll to the garage. He opens my door with a flourish. I step in gracefully to the low bucket seats, which is not easy in 6-inch heels
Cole gets in and, grinning at me, he fires up the engine. I shake my head at him with a smile.
T he drive is quiet. I’m preoccupied with all that CK has said, not to mention, how and when to broach the Vampire subject with Cole. We pull up to the restaurant. Cole parks the car around the back and we get out, which is even harder to do gracefully in 6-inch heels, but Cole is there to help me. I love him for it.
We are ushered to our booth in the back. I’m still quiet in my reflections.
“Hey,” Cole says, taking my hand across the table, “everything okay?”
I smile the best one I can muster and nod. “I’m fine.” Thankfully, the waiter sidles over for our drinks order.
“Sauvignon Blanc, please,” I say.
Cole orders a beer.
My phone buzzes on the table and a quick glance down shows me it’s the offices in China. Great, I sigh, just what I need right now. “Sorry, my love, I have to take this,” and I answer the phone in fluent Mandarin.
Cole’s eyebrows go skyward, as I knew they would, as I carry on the conversation.
Hanging up minutes later, I cast a glance at him. He looks quite serious. “So, that’s French, Italian, and Chinese.” He counts them off his fingers.
“Mandarin,” I say automatically.
“Mandarin,” he repeats. “How many more?”
Well, this is the moment. I take a deep breath. “Nineteen,” I say quickly, and rattle off my impressive list of linguistic abilities. “And two dead ones,” I add.
He’s staring at me as if I just grew nineteen heads. I shrug and take a glug of the wine that has thankfully appeared in front of me.
“What the fuck?” he says and starts laughing.
Laughing? Hm, not really what I was expecting.
“Seriously, Liv. That’s pretty funny. You just mentioned most of the world’s major languages and two dead ones! How many, really?”
I stare impassively at him not quite knowing what to say. He sobers quickly.
“You are being serious, aren’t you?”