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He smirked.
The bastard knew I was suffering, and he smirked.
I would kill him.
I glared and then faced forward, holding my breath as I trailed Brazzi.
He stopped in front of a booth, and I froze, confused. There were plates and glasses. Full. He waved for me to slide in.
“I think someone is already sitting here.”
He gave me a condescending smile. “No, I just had the chef prepare our meal early, so we didn’t have to wait.”
Just what I love. A man who takes charge. Of my tastebuds and stomach and autonomy.
Fucker.
I swear Derek snorted behind me, but I couldn’t check. Weren’t bodyguards supposed to be silent? Invisible? Maybe I should look into hiring a real one.
“We have all the bests.” He named off each plate while I stared at the unfamiliar foods.
“I’m vegetarian,” I blurted with a sad smile.
“You’re . . . vegetarian?” It was like his brain couldn’t comprehend the word.
“Yes, I don’t eat meat.” I was ninety-five percent sure all the dishes had at least one type, not that I could identify any of them.
He stared at the table, then back at me. “You don’t eat . . .”
He blinked.
I blinked.
His eye twitched.
I didn’t back down.
“Or drink.”
Boom. His brain exploded, covering the already inedible food.
I wished.
“You don’t drink?” He repeated each word slowly.
“No, it’s against my religion.”
More blinking.
“Wha–”
“What are the odds?” A man’s voice interrupted his mental breakdown.
I turned and nearly gasped at Dias standing in front of our table with a pleasant smile.
“I was going to eat over there, but I’d much rather join you.” He slid in next to me, so close I had to scoot over to give us room, which pushed me closer to Brazzi. And his smell.
Dias draped his arm behind me and looked at Brazzi. “You okay, amigo?”