Page 50 of The Stipulation
Twenty-Four
AXEL
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ulay2FvUEd8
-joe le taxi-
The hotel dining room is warm and small, the kind of place that looks like a Parisian brothel of old. There are dark red velvet curtains and oil paintings with gilded frames on the walls. Soft amber light spills from the candles stuck into dark wine bottles and bounces off the white tablecloths. For a fully booked hotel, the dining room is strangely empty. A sole waiter scuttles out of the room at my arrival.
Jo is already seated at the table by a window as I pull out my chair. Her hair catches the light and frames her face perfectly. She looks up as I scoot my chair out, her eyes sparkling with the excitement and energy she’s carried all day. My cock pulses without warning.
“Look at you,” I murmur, taking my seat across from her. “Still glowing after a day of running through the Louvre.”
She smirks, resting her chin on her hand. “Me? Glowing? You, on the other hand, look like you’re trying very hard to scare the waitstaff with your brooding.”
I let out a soft laugh. “This is not my brooding face. This is my ‘Wow, look at that beauty across the room’ face.”
She rolls her eyes, but her grin betrays her amusement. “Flattery again, Axel? You’re persistent.”
“Persistent pays off,” I say smoothly, leaning back slightly, enjoying the playful tension.
The waiter comes back with menus, and I take a moment to glance over the options. It’s a three-star hotel, but their dinner menu can’t be faulted. I let my eyes wander back to Jo. I’ve seen a lot in my life and encountered a lot of people, but she is unlike anyone else I’ve ever known. There’s something magnetic about her energy, her intellect, and the way she makes even a simple moment like this feel electric.
“What are you thinking of having?” I ask, finally looking down at the menu.
Jo scans hers thoughtfully. “The duck confit sounds amazing, but so does the mushroom in red wine. Decisions, decisions.” She tilts her head, biting her lip. “What about you?”
“I was going to go with rib-eye steak, rare. Classic. But maybe I should follow your lead and be more adventurous?”
Her eyes flick up, mischievous. “You’d let me choose for you?”
“Absolutely,” I reply smoothly. “After all, my real meal comes later tonight… in bed. I’m starving for the taste of you.”
She turns an intoxicating red, and I have to fight the urge to pay off the waiter, reach across the table, grab her, and throw her on top of it. Instead of my caveman instincts, I lean forward andbrush a stray lock of hair from her face. Her eyes gleam at my touch.
The waiter comes back to take our orders and then he produces a bottle of wine and pours us each a glassful before hurrying away again.
“I can’t believe you tried to argue that the Mona Lisa is overrated,” Jo says after a sip of her wine.
“I didn’t argue it’s overrated,” I correct. “I simply observed that it’s small. I imagined it bigger.”
“It’s intimate,” she counters.
“Half the mystic is gone thanks to the bulletproof glass.”
“That’s not her fault.”
I take a sip of wine. “You’re very protective.”
“She’s endured five centuries of men underestimating her,” Jo says lightly. “I can relate.”
My mouth curves. “You think I underestimate you?”
“I think most people underestimate me,” she says. “But I’m not complaining. I like playing the wallflower.”
I nearly choke on my wine. “That’s not a word I would use to describe you.”
She leans back. “Yeah? How would you describe me?”
