2.11
The following evening, undeterred, she was seated in Café Mocha, looking out for a swarthy thirty-something man with a shaven head, if Dimitri’s photo was honest. He appeared twenty minutes after the arranged time of six, decked out in black: leather jacket, T-shirt and jeans. He seemed flustered. Noticing her sitting alone at a table by the window, he quickly regained his composure and walked towards her wearing a charismatic smile.
‘Yvette,’ he said, taking up the other chair. ‘Sorry I’m late. Just finished a photo shoot. Damn model couldn’t hold a pose.’
She gave him an understanding smile. He was handsome in a burly way with dark eyes and a sensual mouth. He seemed intriguing.
‘Have you ordered?’ he said as a waitress approached their table.
‘No.’
He took the menus and passe
