Il Gabbiano is the finest Italian restaurant in town—at least, according to the sign outside the building, it is. Rhett opens my car door for me, taking my hand as we walk through the parking lot, his fingers warm and sure as they tuck around mine. I cling to him, his solid heat drawing me in, making me want to do and say crazy things. Instead, I focus on my upcoming performance, praying I’m wearing the right thing, scared I’m going to do something stupid to mess this up.
Being with him makes me feel insecure. Is it because I’m an imposter? Am I scared of getting caught?
Yes. A thousand times yes.
“Jensen.”
His sexy deep voice knocks me from my worrying thoughts. “What?” My head snaps up to find he’s watching me carefully. So carefully, I’m almost scared he can read my thoughts.
“Did I tell you that you look beautiful tonight?” He squeezes my hand as we approach the restaurant, slowing his pace so I have no choice but to stop with him.
My cheeks go hot. I’m not used to the constant compliments. They make me uncomfortable, especially when I remember what I’m doing. “Yes, you did. But thank you again.”
He also told me I looked beautiful on the drive over, when I caught him staring at me while we waited at an intersection for the light to turn green. He’d seemed entranced with me, and let me tell you, that’s heady stuff. No one ever seems to care about me. I just…move through life without affecting anyone.
With Rhett, it feels like he actually wants to be a part of my life. That he’s so grateful I’m here with him. That should make me feel strong, right? Like he’s giving me all the power and eventually, I can use it against him.
But I don’t feel strong. His words and actions make me unsure. Make me doubt I’m doing the right thing, when I’ve never wavered from my purpose before.
I don’t like it.
“You seem nervous.” With his other hand, he pushes wayward tendrils of hair away from my cheek, his fingers a lingering caress on my skin. I can’t stop the shiver that takes over me and he feels it, I know he can. Without a word, he leans in and I tilt my head back, his mouth hovering above mine. Right there in front of the restaurant where everyone can see us, he kisses me. The barest brush of lips, his kiss is the lightest touch that somehow grabs hold of my heart and strangles it until I feel like I can’t breathe.
“This isn’t a test,” he murmurs after he lifts his lips away from mine.
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t want you tense or nervous. I don’t want anything from you that you can’t give.” There he goes again, seemingly reading my mind. “I just want to get to know you better.” He taps the tip of my nose with his index finger. “A lot better.”
His words throw me. I’ve always been someone’s secret. My mother’s. The boys I’ve been with…no one wants to admit they know me. Here’s Rhett kissing me in front of a restaurant, holding my hand like we’re a real couple, saying such sweet things that should make me wary but instead his words make me want to melt.
And I can’t melt. I need to remain ice-cold. No feelings, no emotions. That way, no one can hurt me.
“Why me?” I blurt, snagging my hand out of his so I can step away from him. I need the distance. I know this isn’t the best spot to have this discussion, but I’m seized with the sudden urge to know exactly why he’s acting this way.
“Now I have to ask you what you mean.” He scratches the side of his head, looking adorably confused.
“We see each other a couple of times and now you’re taking me to dinner and it feels like there are all these expectations—” Stop talking, stop talking! “—and I don’t know why you chose me.”
“I’m drawn to you. Isn’t that a good enough reason?”
It’s the answer my old self wants. It’s the answer Jennifer is immensely pleased with—and yes, I just referred to myself in the third person. I set out to trap him and it happened quicker than I imagined. Here he is, interested in me, taking me out to an expensive dinner and most likely secretly hoping he’ll be peeling my panties off my body with his teeth by the end of the night. Normally I’d give my body to him without question. That was always the plan.
Instead, my insecurities come flying out, making me say stupid stuff, just like I feared. Again, I’m about to blow it and that’s the last thing I need.
Stay. Focused.
“Yes.” I breathe a sigh and nod once, to reaffirm my answer. “That’s a good enough reason.”
“Great. Now that we’ve got that settled…” he says just before he kisses me again, a quick one that takes me by surprise. “Let’s go eat,” he murmurs, and all I can do is blink up at him, trying to bring his handsome face back into focus. By the time I recover, he’s holding my hand again, leading me toward the restaurant entrance, and I follow along blindly, nearly tripping over the sidewalk.
As we enter the building, I’m immediately dazzled by the stark white interior and the open ceiling with its crisscrossing rough-hewn beams. There are colorful flower arrangements everywhere, their lush, fresh scent lingering in the lobby, and I take a deep breath, savoring the smell. This place reeks of money. It’s expensive, classy, like nowhere I’ve ever been before.
Two men clad in sharp black suits stand behind a high counter, and as we approach them I can see they’re scanning an extensive list with fierce concentration. One of them glances up when Rhett says he has a reservation and offers his name. The one man stands a little straighter, calling Rhett Mr. Montgomery with a touch of awe and respect. He nods at his coworker before leading us deep into the restaurant, until we’re at a table by an expansive window that overlooks the river that runs through town. Candlelight flickers in the pale gold votive resting in the center of the table, casting its glow upon the single white rose sitting in a crystal vase by the window.
My palms are sweating as the host holds the chair out for me, and I practically fall into it, shocked when he gently pushes my chair closer to the table. He takes the napkin from the plate and shakes it out before draping it across my lap, and I can only sit there, unsure of what to say or what to do next. I mutter a thank-you when he finishes, and my gaze cuts to Rhett, who’s watching me with amusement, his mouth curled into a lopsided smile.
I both want to smack and kiss that smile off his face.
“You’ve never been to a place like this before.”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment and I’m thankful for the dim lighting so he can’t see me. “Guess I’m not used to strange men doing things for me,” I admit. That’s better than confessing I don’t know how to function in fancy restaurants. I need him to believe I can be a part of his world, that I would fit in seamlessly, no matter what the situation is.
“The food here is fantastic.” His change of subject tells me he must sense my nervousness, and he tears his gaze away from mine, cracking open the menu. “I’m starving.”
“Me too.” Not really. I’m too nervous to eat, too freaked out I’ll screw something up and prove to Rhett I don’t belong here. I don’t belong with him.
“Do you have a preference for anything?” He skims the menu, his lips slightly pursed, a lock of thick hair falling over his forehead. I watch him instead of checking my meal options, captivated by his dark good looks, the way he sinks his teeth into his lower lip, as if he’s concentrating really hard. This is all supposed to be pretend, but why does tonight feel so real? I’m barely in and I’m already taking it way too seriously. He’s just so good-looking and charming and oh my God, what am I even doing?
Suddenly Rhett glances up, his gaze meeting mine, and his knowing smile tells me I’ve been caught staring.
My heart thumping out of control, I jerk my gaze back to the menu, squinting as I try to make out the minimal descriptions, trying my best to ignore the outrageous prices. Everywhere he takes me, I can’t afford. I can’t even understand what’s on this stupid menu since it’s written mostly in Italian.
Situations like this remind me that I’m completely out of my element, though I knew this from the very start. I somehow forgot, though, that the Montgomery family moves in a different stratosphere than mine.
I remember he asked me if I had any preferences and I finally answer him.
“Um, what do you recommend?” I can’t say spaghetti, because that is my favorite Italian dish, but it’s also the most common Italian dish there is. What in the world is antipasto? Some sort of appetizer? I can figure out insalata, and even minestra, salad and soup. Oh, I recognize fettucine alfredo, since I had that once at the Olive Garden. Dad took me there for my twelfth birthday, when things were better, and he was better too. When we had a little more money and we could splurge on special occasions, but that was it.
“Any of the risottos are good,” Rhett says, and I nod. Okay, I can do that. I’ve watched Hell’s Kitchen before—I actually know what risotto is, since Gordon Ramsey makes it all the time. My gaze jumps to the risotto section, and my eyes go wide when I see the prices. I can’t believe rice costs that freaking much. “Plus, all of their pasta is homemade, and it’s amazing,” he continues.
“Nice.” I nod, anxiety rising within me, making it even harder to focus. I don’t know what to get, and I’m afraid I’ll say it wrong when I’m asked what I want. I’m not in the mood to make a fool of myself tonight either.
One tiny mistake could ruin everything.
Snapping the menu shut, I smile at Rhett when his gaze meets mine once more. “Will you order for me?”
He appears surprised by my request, but he rolls with it. He’s so easygoing, it’s downright unreal. “Sure, if you’re okay with that. Are you interested in a particular dish?”
“I’m interested in whatever you think is good.” I sit up straighter and stretch my lips into a closed-mouth smile, trying to look like an agreeable date so hopefully he’ll want to see me again. God, it’s so difficult, striving for perfect all the time. “Surprise me.”
“Really?” He sounds excited and he raises his eyebrows. “You trust me enough to order for you?”
I don’t trust you for shit, I want to tell him, but I don’t. I can only imagine the hurt that would cross his face at my words. I get the feeling he’s not used to insults. He grew up having an idyllic, carefree life with my bitch of a mother showering all of her affection on him while I didn’t even get a scrap.
“I’m sure whatever you choose, I’ll love,” I say carefully, immediately wishing I could snatch back my use of the word love.
I don’t throw that word around lightly. Love isn’t a good or easy emotion. It’s painful and hard and only ends up hurting you.
That’s all love has ever done for me.
He points his index finger at me. “I promise you won’t regret this.”
I’m sure I will. I’m sure I’ll regret everything that will eventually happen between Rhett and me. But there’s no going back now.
I’m all in.