I ran my hands through his hair, my grip firm as I pushed it down slightly, my main focus on his lips.
"And then?"
"Then I'd slide my dick into you and fuck you mercilessly, even if you have me begging to stop, I'll make sure you can't walk or thi...
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Dante just continued staring at me, almost as if he was trying to figure me out. I let out a sigh, placing my hands on the table as I played with the cutlery.
"What do you want with me, Dante? I have such a perfect record, I haven't stolen anything - well not in the last couple of years - and most importantly I work in a bar, a fucking bar. What guy would want to pick up some weird girl who works in a bar?" Dante shrugged, something that I had begun to get annoyed of since that was basically his answer to everything.
"You tell me, bella. Hai le risposte di cui ho bisogno." My brows furrowed at the last part. It took me a while to adapt to the language here in Russia but now Dante was speaking a completely different one, which at the same time, turned me on and annoyed me.
"Where are you from?" I ask out of curiosity.
"Italy." He holds eye contact with me, gently rubbing his chin with the back of his palm.
This man does not realise how attractive he is.
"How old are you?" This time he smirks, phishing himself off of the table so his back could rest against his chair.
"Twenty-five."
Oh.
"My turn." He smiles, biting his bottom lip and then his eyes twinkled as if he had just thought of something. "Do you know where your parents are?"
"I-" I cut myself off, feeling a tiny bit uncomfortable. He could've asked how they're doing but he asked how they were as if he's met them before.
"Um..." I clear my throat, ripping my gaze away from him as I focus on my palms which were sweating like crazy.
The door opened, a man carrying two trays in his hands. He put one in front of Dante and then one. in front of me. "Enjoy." He said.
"Thank you."
Thank you for saving me from this conversation.
The man smiled and then bowed quickly exiting the room and closed the door with a click following after.
"Was that necessary?" Dante grabs my attention, his jaw ticking and his fists, clenched on the table.
"What?"
He lets out a breath shaking his head and then lifts the cover off of the plate to only reveal a large piece of steak with a leaf on it.
I took the lid off to reveal the same thing.
My face scrunched at the almost brown thing. Is this what rich people eat? A piece of fat meat with some tiny leaf?
I mean I was kind of expecting something like a nice burger, but of course, this cultist doesn't eat those.
I pick my fork and knife, trying to slice through the meat, but the knife of the fork doesn't even make a dent. After a couple of tries, I gave up, placing my fork on the steak and then looked up to see Dante staring into my soul.
