Page 116 of The Risk Taker
“Lapis Lazuli. Supposedly, it aids those seeking truth,” Slade murmurs, turning the small stone between his fingers, before tucking it into his pocket.
His expression closes off and he stares out of my apartment window at the street below. I move to his side and look at a small girl with dark hair who’s caught his attention.
“You’re thinking about your niece, aren’t you?”
“I don’t even know how old she is.”
“Three.”
He looks at me, and I shrug. “I Googled you a lot when I found out who you were. Some information about your family came up. I think they try to keep their lives private. Haven’t you ever looked?”
“Not if I can help it. What good would it do?”
His jaw is set as he looks back out at the street, but the little girl has gone.
“I wish I didn’t have dinner with my parents tonight. I’ll call them and cancel.”
“Don’t. You need to see your family.”
“You’ve only just got here. We should be together. We need to talk and?—”
“Where is it?”
“A small Italian place a few blocks from here.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“What?” I gape at him. “Is that… Can you? What if someone sees you?”
“My family won’t be in this neighborhood. And I’d like to meet both of your parents.”
I fight to school my expression and not show how much his suggestion has shocked me. But I guess this has to happen sooner or later—him no longer hiding in the shadows anymore. I just didn’t expect him to be the one suggesting it so soon, before he’s seen his family.
“Are you sure?”
A muscle in his jaw clenches and his nostrils flare as he breathes in. “I’m sure.”
I slide my hand inside his, entwining our fingers. Slade exhales, his shoulders softening. He came all the way to New York to find me. And I’m beginning to understand what a colossal decision that was. He left a continent he’s been bound to for the past three years. This is him proving he’s ready to face his demons. And whatever way he chooses to do that I need to support him.
“Okay then.”
We arrive at the restaurant before my parents, and Slade requests a quiet table when the maître d’ asks where we’d like to be seated.
I’m fidgeting on the edge of my seat when he clasps my thigh with a firm grip.
“Calm down. It’s dinner with your parents. How bad can it go?”
“With my father? On a scale of one to ten? At least a million,” I grumble.
“I’m sure he’s not that awful to your admirers.”
I side-eye him, swooning at the subtle smirk that plays over his kissable mouth. He’s brushed his hair back from his face and is wearing a white shirt and slacks. It’s the first time I’ve seen him dressed in something smart. He looks incredible, and I didn’t miss the other diners’ heads turning as we walked past them to our table. All of it combined with the cool confidence he has, and I’m getting a glimpse of what he would have been like a few years ago—a young, drop-dead gorgeous businessman playing an integral role in running his billionaire family’s luxury global brand.
I bet that was one hell of a sight.
“Is that what you are? My admirer?” I lean my chin in my hand, narrowing my eyes at him.
He squeezes my thigh, slowly running his eyes over me in my dress. It hugs all the right places and shows a hint of cleavage whilst still being appropriate for dinner with my parents.
