Vicious Minds (Children of Vice #4)(30)

The waiter retreated as Ethan stepped forward. With one hand he pulled out the chair for me, amusement clear in his green eyes. He then took his place across from me, undoing his suit jacket.

“Red or white, miss?” the waiter asked me, however, Ethan answered him instead.

“Red, the Teso La Monja.”

Nodding, the skinny man went back, and it didn’t escape my notice that everyone who had helped set this dinner up left just as quickly as they had come. Neither of us spoke, we simply waited in this golden heaven. The waiter soon came with the wine and behind him was a chef as well as servers. They placed a spread of traditional Spanish dishes across the table for us. The waiter poured the wine into my glass.

“Fill it for her,” Ethan directed, rotating the glass between his fingers, his eyes squarely on me.

What are you up to? I wanted to ask, but I drank anyway. If we were about to fight, then I wanted to at least get a drink out of it.

“Is there anything else?” They all waited on his word, and he knew that but chose to take a sip of the wine. Licking his lips before setting his glass on the table, he nodded to them.

One by one, they all left, and he relaxed back into his chair.

I drank.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he questioned.

I drank some more, still staring at him. “Are you going to do something stupid right now?”

“Stupid?” He grinned. “Aren’t you the one who wanted a date?”

“Is that what this is?” I glanced at the door. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“What does it feel like?”

“An ambush.”

A smile spread across his face. “This is the first time I’ve seen you unnerved.”

“This is the first time you haven’t bothered lying to my face, tried to freeze me over with your glare, or threatened to kill me,” I shot back at him.

“In my defense, you came on a bit strong,” he replied, lifting his wine again.

“I came on strong?”

“Are you denying it?”

“In my defense, strength is the only thing you would acknowledge.” I picked up my spoon and dug into the rice and shrimp.

“True.” He began eating from the same dish.

“So?” I pressed before taking a bite. Not bad.

He took a bite as well before answering. “So isn’t it customary for people to share details about themselves on dates? You already know me, but who are you Calliope, when you aren’t scheming, killing, and pretending to be an angel?”

I stared.

It took me a second to understand what was happening. But once that second passed, I laughed. I lifted my hand to cover my hand over my mouth. He was serious.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ethan,” I shook my head, not able to contain the laughter, “we really need to work on your date face, you look like you’re planning my execution.”

“I wasn’t before,” he grumbled before frowning. It almost looked like he was about to pout. “It’s not my fault you’re paranoid.”

He’s cute when he’s not in boss mode.

Shaking my head again I took a deep breath and leaned in. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Will you tell me everything about you?” I whispered.

“You seem to know a lot—”

“I know what is obvious, or what I’ve read or been told by outside parties. Who are you under the boss?” I asked him.

His eyes narrowed, and I realized he did that when he didn’t trust something not when he wanted to be an ass. “You keep avoiding speaking about yourself. Why? One would think you only cared about getting as much information out of me as possible.”

I smirked at that. “Who’s the paranoid one now?”

“Still stalling.” He ripped into the bread with his hands to eat with the soup. “Suspicious. Maybe I should go back to cold glares.”

I rolled my eyes at that. “Have you ever thought maybe I don’t talk about myself because it’s painful?”

“Obviously it will be painful. People aren’t born monsters, we are molded into them from childhood,” he replied before taking a bite. “So what was your crucible? Ruthless parents?”

“Indifferent parents,” I answered, reaching for the bread as well. “Unlike yours, my parents didn’t marry for love, and my mother never wanted children but a third one? She hated me the most; I could feel it each time she hit me. My father, he’s an on again, off again functioning drunk. Together they own a fashion and beauty line. My sisters are models and take after my parents. Avena is the future drunk of the family and Bellarose is temperamental and also violent. She hit me a lot too. In fact, I remember one Christmas she pushed me down the stairs in our home because she was jealous of the dress our grandmother got me. She got one, too, but she was upset mine was in her favorite color and I wouldn’t switch with her. I shattered my jaw and two ribs that Christmas. I think that’s why I found it amusing you thought there was some profound sisterly bond between us…there has never been such a thing. My family is a broken mess, but like I said before, you can’t choose the family you’re born into.”

He lifted his glass to his lips, “Do you hate your sister?”