"You've thought of everything, haven't you?" I settle into one of the chairs—choosing one that allows me to see both the library and the cityscape—and watch as Armani begins to build a plate for me.
He arranges everything with surprising care—slices of apple and pear, cubes of aged cheddar and soft brie, a crusty piece of bread drizzled with olive oil. His hands, I notice, are slightly unsteady.
"Are you nervous?" I ask, surprised by the realization.
He pauses, a grape halfway to my plate. "Is it that obvious?"
"Not obvious," I assure him, touched by his vulnerability. "But I'm starting to learn your tells."
"My tells?" He raises an eyebrow, placing the grape on my plate and sliding it toward me.
"The way you adjust your cufflinks when you're thinking," I explain, taking a bite of th
