Every Beat Of My Heart. Kianna AlexanderЧитать онлайн книгу.
off the ground that she might have to make a small leap to get out. He reached his hand out just in time to help her step down from the running board. Linking arms with her he escorted her inside.
The interior of the Black Rose was quiet, in keeping with the romantic atmosphere. The walls, covered in black brocade wallpaper, were decorated with framed photographic images of various rose varieties. A plush beige carpet was emblazoned with hundreds of black roses, alternating with loose petals. The round tables were cloaked in white cloths, and due to the absence of music being piped in, the only sounds were the few muted conversations being carried on by the patrons.
At the black lacquer podium near the door, Rashad gave his last name to the tuxedoed maître d’, who lead them to a secluded table near a window. Once they were seated and alone, Rashad looked across the table at Lina. She had opened the menu. Her shiny pink lips flexed slightly as she silently evaluated the choices.
He could watch her all night, but decided to try to choose his meal before the waiter arrived.
When the white-coated waiter arrived, Lina ordered the citrus glazed salmon and a green salad. Rashad placed his order for the medallions of beef with herb potatoes and zucchini gratin. Rashad kept quiet until the waiter deposited their glasses of iced tea on the table and departed.
He locked eyes with the beautiful woman sitting across from him and asked the question he’d wanted to ask since he ran into her that night at Cleveland and Wendell. “Why do you really want Monk’s piano?”
Her perfectly arched left brow hitched up a few centimeters. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you really want it for your mother?”
She nodded, the kind of slow nod you gave someone when you didn’t think they were following you. “Yes, I really want it for my mother, I told you that.”
He chose to ignore the insult of her slow nod, and shrugged. “I was just asking. I’m sure you know how valuable the piano is. It could bring in a lot of money on the open market.”
She pursed her lips. “I don’t really care about that, I make good money as it is. When I said I wanted it for my mother, that’s exactly what I meant. Once she has it, she can do whatever she wants with it. But she’s much too big a fan of Monk’s to sell it.”
Now he gave a slow nod of his own. “All right, then.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What about you? How do I know you wouldn’t resell it if you won the bidding?”
He leaned back in his chair, struck a nonchalant pose. “We both know I would never let Monk’s piano go, not for any amount of money.”
She folded her arms over her chest. The gesture blocked his view of her cleavage, and he immediately felt deprived. “To be honest, Rashad, I don’t really know you that well at all.”
He knew that remark was meant to cut him. More than anything it irritated him. “Really, Lina? This again?”
Her expression was as blank and disinterested as he’d ever seen it. “Truth hurts.”
Before he could line up a response, the waiter returned with their meals. The man set the steaming hot plates before them and strolled away. Rashad looked across the table at Lina, who seemed to be completely focused on her salmon. To give her time to cool off, he started in on his own food.
When he’d finished the last bite of his dinner, he set his silverware down. She was still eating, but he couldn’t hold back what he needed to say to her any longer. “Lina, I’m sorry.”
She paused, a forkful of salad hanging in midair. Her golden eyes widened and her gaze locked with his. “What?”
“I said I’m sorry. For not being open enough with you when we dated, and for whatever I said or did to offend you after the fact. I’m sorry.” Getting the words out was unpleasant to say the least, but certainly not any worse than the many days and nights he’d spent thinking about her since they parted ways. He’d tried everything short of apologizing to her up until this moment, and he still wasn’t positive he’d done anything wrong per se. Still, if this was what it was going to take to convince her that their relationship deserved another try, then so be it.
She blinked a few times, setting her fork down. Her expression serious, she asked, “Do you mean that, Rashad?”
He nodded. “Yes. I know I’ll have to work to win you all over again, but believe me, I’m willing.”
Her expression softened into a Mona Lisa–like smile. “Then we’d better go somewhere more private to talk.”
He grinned, not needing to be told twice. He’d finally penetrated her rigid exterior, and he planned to make the best use of his newfound access. Raising his hand, he signaled for the waiter to bring the check.
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