"Okay. I have my phone with me. Call me if you think of anything."
He grunted, and I tiptoed to the front door and closed it behind me. Only when I was inside the car did I let out a breath of relief. That could've gone way, way worse. I caught myself, for a split-second, being thankful for the fact he had no energy to stop me, or even pay attention to me long enough to realize what was really going on. But that was disgusting of me, and I knew it, so I shook it out of me like a bad bug. Of course I wasn't thankful. I wish he'd stopped me. I wish he'd notice even the smallest thing about me, these days.
I rehearsed a speech for Mr. Blackthorn the whole time I drove to Ciao Bella. I couldn't look too desperate, because even a low-class scholarshipper like me had pride, but I couldn't let any bone he threw me go to waste. I'd have to accept, no matter what he wanted me to do. At that point, I would've done anything short of deal drugs to keep my scholarship. As I mulled over the list of potentially illegal things I would and would not agree to, a knock on my window startled me. A young man in dress whites smiled at me as I rolled down the window.
"Hello, miss. Shall I valet park for you this evening?"
I looked over his head only to see the sign of Ciao Bella glaring back at me. I'd been so deep in my own brain I hadn't even noticed I'd made it. I hastily cleared my throat.
"Um, I'll just park normally, thanks."
I parked and rounded the restaurant, which looked like a big hunk of black glass, shiny and smooth and impossible to see into. Beautiful candlelit tables waited outside on the patio, though with the chilly temperature most people were inside. A rush of warm rosemary-scented air greeted me as I opened the door, the crackle of real wood fires along the wall mingling with the low violin music. A hostess greeted me, and I asked for Blackthorn's table. She ushered me past rows of tables brimming with couples in expensive-looking clothes, tucking into plates of lobster pasta and glasses of thick red wine, the sort of wine the whole bottle gets brought to the table for. I tried not to sweat or meet their eyes when they glanced up at me, but I definitely noticed one lady laughing behind her hand at my shoes. I fought the embarrassed blush on my face.
The hostess finally stopped at a booth in the far back, where Mr. Blackthorn sat. He looked every bit like he belonged in The Godfather, with his crisp tux and single shot of whiskey. He toasted to me as I took off my coat and sat down opposite him.
"There you are, Miss Cruz." He smiled at me. "Is there anything you'd like to drink?"
"Water would be fine, thanks."
"Come now - an iced tea would be much tastier. Perhaps a soda? My sons prefer the wine here - I assure you, it's quite good."
I gnawed my lip, cutting off my words of 'underage drinking is illegal' or something equally juvenile-sounding. "Just water."
"Very well." He nodded, and the hostess silently disappeared and reappeared with a glass for me. When it was poured, she left, and Mr. Blackthorn cleared his throat.
"Do you find this place to your liking?"
I looked around. "Sure. It's cozy. Lots of pretty people. One of them even laughed at me. Well, I'm pretty sure she was laughing. Otherwise she must've been choking on pasta. But there aren't any ambulances or shrieks of horror, so I figure I'm definitely the source of her amusement. Always happy to help lighten the mood."
Mr. Blackthorn looked shocked. "Laughed at you? Which one? Can you point me to her?"
"Oh no, I'd rather not cause a problem -"
"Marie," Mr. Blackthorn said. The hostess reappeared, seemingly from nowhere. "Kindly escort whichever of your guests laughed at my friend here off the premises."
The hostess smiled. "Of course, Mr. Blackthorn."
Horrified, I watched as she walked over to the woman's table and said something. The woman started to argue, and her date slammed his fist on the table. This caused two men in starched shirts and jackets I hadn't seen before come over, so tall they blocked out the light and sent long shadows over the table. One of the men said something, then pointed to our table. The woman and her date looked to us, and Mr. Blackthorn smiled and gave them a small nod. The couple's faces went ashen, and they grabbed their things and strode out as quickly as they could.
When they were gone, Mr. Blackthorn sighed. "That's much better."
"I didn't -" I swallowed. "I didn't mean to -"
"You did nothing wrong, Miss Cruz. It was entirely them. I despise people who can't maintain good manners when in public. And to laugh at my own dinner guest! Such arrogance stifles my appetite." He opened the menu lying at his fingers and passed it to me. "You must be hungry. Please, take a look. I highly recommend the fettucine al pepperoncini and the heirloom bolognese."
Still feeling queasy, my eyes roamed the menu and practically bugged out. Everything on the menu was upwards of forty dollars! I desperately flipped through for a cheap salad, but even that was a good thirty bucks! The wines - a hundred dollars a bottle! I swallowed hard.
"I think I'm alright with water for now."
"Oh, please. I insist. It's my treat. I know how much you high schoolers can eat - the answer is 'endlessly'."
"I'm okay, really. I ate before I came."
Mr. Blackthorn fixed me with a stare. It was more like Burn's unaccusing stare than Wolf's self-righteous one. But then he flipped on a smile, so fast and bright and sincere-looking. It was the same way Fitz turned on his smile, too.
"We will need to improve your lying skills, Miss Cruz, if we are going to work together," He said. I opened my mouth to argue, but he bulldozed forward. "Work together on what, you ask? My sons, of course."