The Billionaire's Redemption

Chapter2

I lowered my menu slowly to observe the man in front of me.

There was a slight bruise on his left cheek which was the only pointer to the battle we had just survived. Apart from that, he looked spotless. His hair was well-arranged and in place, his skin looked tanned and even his outfit was immaculate. He was flipping through the menu with such concentration. It seemed the matter of dinner was currently more important to him than the life he almost lost that night.

I turned to the mirror on my left and quickly ran a hand through my hair. In comparison to him, I looked like a banshee. My hair was disheveled. The single sleeves of my red dress were loose, my make-up was gone and even my heels were broken.

I turned back in time to see him close his menu. My eyes widened and I quickly raised my menu over my face again. I was dying to pile him with questions and purge him of his version of this night but at the same time, I did not want to make eye contact. If those eyes pierced into me one more time, I knew I would spiral. I could remain like this until the wine arrived, then I would use the wine as a distraction to…

A strong hand closed over the top of my menu and I gasped as it was taken away from my fingers wordlessly.

His searching eyes pierced into me and I felt myself squirm. They ran round my face and I felt myself melt when they dropped to other parts of my bodice. I tried to imagine what he was seeing which wasn’t so hard since I had just confirmed that with the mirror.

“You’re not hurt.”

It was not a question but I still shook my head.

He stretched his hand and his firm fingers brushed against my cheek as he flicked something off. I felt a shiver run down my spine and my nostrils simply refused to draw in more air until his hand retreated.

Our wine arrived just then and I almost gasped in relief. The prim young man poured the wine from a large, old bottle. I knew my wine so I could tell I was being served expensive, well-cultured wine.

Soft violin music played from a corner of the restaurant and candlelight flickered on every table. The room was not empty but it was barely filled either. A few chuckles came from here and there, and a few clings of glasses and cutlery jingled as they hit plates.

I grabbed my glass and took a long sip. It was good. Very good.

“So are you going to tell me who you are?” I asked with renewed courage. This new courage did not nothing to encourage eye contact, though.

“I will,” he answered. “When you ask.”

I frowned and forced myself to turn to him.

“Questions while I’m being shot at, doesn’t count,” he whispered.

“Okay,” I leaned on my seat. “Who are you?”

His eyes did not leave mine. “The man who saved your life.”

It sounded corny and even when I wanted to roll my eyes, I found myself giggling instead. I am my own traitor.

“Alexandra Rossi. I mined Gold,” he stretched a card to me and I grabbed it susceptible. His name was engraved on the card in gold letters and they seemed to glow.

Alexandra Rossi. It was such a great name. Almost like an actor alias but I wouldn’t let that distract me. I needed to know everything.

“So who were those men?”

“Which men?” he c****d his brows.

“The ones who almost killed us, who else?!” I snapped but he shrugged calmly.

“You don’t know?! There is no way you don’t know. They chased us!”

“I mine gold. Do the math,” he said slowly as if to a toddler.

“Oh.”

I did do the math and the equation seemed to fit. While my wheels were still turning, our food arrived. We stayed silent while the waiter uncovered each plate. I smelt my food before I saw it. The dish was a work of art, with layers of pasta sheets lovingly assembled with a rich and hearty tomato sauce, a generous filling of seasoned ground beef, and a luscious blend of creamy ricotta, mozzarella, and Parmesan cheese. The top layer was adorned with a golden-brown crust, enticing me to dig in. The tantalizing scent of garlic, onions, and Italian herbs wafted through the air, making my mouth water in anticipation.

Adonis…Alexander, had ordered some Braised Pork Balls in Gravy and some Steamed Weever. We tucked in immediately.

“I didn’t perk you as the eating type,” I heard him say and I looked up to see him looking into my plate.

“You thought I survived on air?” I joked and I watched him smile. It was his first smile of the evening and my heart seemed to lighten just at the sight of it. It barely reached his eyes, yet it was a beautiful smile. He had a hint of dimples on the side of his cheeks that gave his face more character.

“You do survive on air,” he pointed out, sarcastically. “But, no, you look like you’re on a diet. Are you on a diet?” he asked and I wondered if that was a compliment. It felt like one and at the same time it didn’t.

I shook my head. “I love food. I grew up on a farm,” I blurted out and almost kicked myself. All he needed was a ‘yes’ or ‘no.’

But Alex looked up and I thought I caught a hint of surprise. “You did?”

“Y-yes…my grandfather owned one.”

“Owned?”

“We sold it after he passed,” I divulged. Part of me wondered why I was oversharing but I still went right on talking. “We needed the money and we couldn’t make ends meet.”

“Oh.” He looked down.

“The horses were my responsibility,” I said and he looked up again.

‘Why are you still talking, Isabella?!’ I yelled in my head. ‘He definitely doesn’t need to know all of this!’

“It was a lot of work and I was always hungry,” I went right on. “So I always looked forward to dinner. My brother often stole from my plate. But it was fair because I did that too. My mother was a great cook.”

‘Okay, that’s enough now! He’s bored as hell.’

“Did she work at the farm too?”

The question surprised me and it took a while for the word to form on my tongue.

“Who?”

“Your mother,” he gestured with his fork.

“Uhmm…no,” I looked down on my plate. “Mother had other…interests. Which is just as well because I don’t think the life was for her. I used to get sunburnt chasing the Horses. Once, I got so red all over I wasn’t allowed out for a week. I almost went crazy.”

Alexander smiled at me. This one felt personal, like it was crafted as a gift to me, like it was mine to keep. I felt my treacherous heart begin to beat again and I slowly tore my eyes away.

I picked up my fork but dropped it again. I felt curious all of a sudden but at the same time, I didn’t want to cross any lines.

“So, how was your childhood?” the question fell from my lips unhindered. It was like my teeth and tongue had made the decision for me.

“Huh?” He looked up.

“I mean, you don’t have to answer if you don’t. I was just curious.”

‘I really should have stayed silent. And why was he staring at me like that?’

“I’m sorry if I crossed a…”

“I went to a boarding school,” he said simply.

“Just that?”

“Is there something you were expecting to hear?”

“No actually. I just…”

“You were expecting some trivial story?” He took a sip from his wine.

“Well, yeah…if you have people shooting at you…”

“There is none. And I already said, "I sell gold.” He shut me off. I picked my cutlery and tried to focus on my food. It was obvious he wanted the conversation dead but in the process, he only made me more curious.

“I get the feeling you didn’t like boarding school?” I muttered, still focused on my food.

“I liked you better when you were gushing about your farm.”

I smiled to myself and pinched my palm when it threatened to turn into a giggle. I decided to distract myself but there was only one way to do that: move my lips.

“I wanted a car for my eighteenth birthday - a car or a truck. Guess what I got?” I asked.

I watched him swallow. “What?”

“My very own Cow.”

He bawled into laughter and I found myself cracking up in surprise. He laughed! He actually did laugh! I did not expect him to be so amused. I did not expect him to be amused at all. It was an exciting surprise.

“A cow,” he repeated, still laughing.

“They claimed I was coming of age and needed the responsibility.” I wanted to prolong this moment for as long as I could.

“Couldn’t y

ou learn responsibility from a car?” he asked.

“I guess not. I needed a device with horns. Physical horns.”

“You are hilarious, Isabella.”