Carmen
We arrived much sooner than I expected. I wasn't sure what to think when I stepped out of the car and saw the restaurant.
It was definitely fancy.
Fancy enough that it was most likely reservation-only. The kind of place you could only get into through connections or membership.
"Leave the folders," Nico said as he stretched out his hand when I stepped out of the car.
I took it, sliding my elbow into his as he walked us toward the steps.
It was evening, and even the staircase had been carefully decorated. Soft lights glowed along the railings, and the entrance itself looked expensive enough to belong in a magazine.
"I'm too underdressed for this," I muttered under my breath.
Nico simply shook his head with a smile—one that I hated to admit looked good on him, considering how rarely he actually smiled.
"You'd look beautiful even if you were wearing a sack," he said, glancing at me with a gaze that suggested he meant it.
I didn't respond. Because what the hell was I supposed to say to that?
Slowly we made our way upstairs and were instantly welcomed inside and led to a private room. It was large and beautiful, but I couldn't help cracking a small smile when I noticed the strange Chinese theme of the room.
There were no chairs.
It soon became obvious that we would be sitting on the ground, but I didn't mind. I actually found it a little amusing.
Glancing at Nico, who had led us inside, I watched as he began to speak.
"Every room has its own theme and dishes. It's meant to appeal to the senses of each customer and background of choice," he explained.
Then he casually pulled away from me and slowly removed his suit jacket and tie before dropping to the ground like he wasn't a mafia don.
He even rolled up his sleeves carefully, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, revealing parts of the tattoos across his chest in a carefree way.
"…Are you trying to let down my guard?" I asked before I could stop myself. Especially since it almost worked.
But Nico frowned instead. Clearly, I had displeased him.
"I'm not trying to do anything, Carmen," he replied calmly. "For one night, I'd like us to eat and talk honestly."
His eyes settled on me.
"We both know that going forward, if I don't trust that you won't run away, I will lock you up in the basement."
My expression didn't change.
"If I still have doubts, I'll break your legs to ease them."
His tone remained deathly calm as he sat with one knee bent and the other stretched out along the floor.
"I'll always keep you at arm's length," he continued, pouring himself a cup of water while I stood there watching him. "Because I would never rest knowing you could betray me or my business."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"…Sure, I could threaten you with friends, but we both know the only person you ever gave a shit about was your father."
"People are weaknesses. And to be strong is to be alone," I mumbled under my breath, repeating one of the lessons Father never stopped drilling into me.
"…You use them, and you don't get attached," Nico finished with a smile so sharp that I knew he was remembering something completely diabolical.
Still, he gestured toward the other side of the table, offering me a seat opposite him.
Instead, I moved and sat right beside him unable to hide my smug look when I saw the brief surprise on his face.
I was wearing a skirt, and his side of the table allowed me to lean against the wall—something I was almost sure he had already calculated, especially with how smart he was.
Relax Carmen… not everything is a game. I reminded myself since being overly cautious could become dangerous too.
I settled beside him with a sigh, staring at the table as I felt his gaze on me.
"I'm hungry," I mumbled, picking up the menu on the table and scanning through it. Some of the dishes I recognized from meals I had eaten before. Others were a complete mystery.
Nico also picked up his own black-and-gold plated menu, his eyes slowly scanning through the list.
"We'll order as many as we want," he told me. "If you don't like something, we'll order more."
I simply nodded.
He had no problem wasting food, and neither did I. Money allowed us to enjoy the small pleasures in life. There was no reason to skimp.
Nico pressed a small button under the table, and I wasn't surprised when a waiter walked in a few minutes later, dressed in the same Chinese theme that matched the room.
Her dress was red and she looked magnificent.
I found myself staring for a moment, aware that many customers would instantly take a liking to her. Curious, I glanced at Nico.
But he simply began listing dishes while the woman remained kneeling on the ground with her head bowed.
"We'll have plenty of alcohol too," Nico added and that caught my attention.
I turned to look at him only to see him meet my gaze with a smirk that grated on my nerves.
"You can't handle your alcohol?" he asked, a hint of challenge in his tone.
I responded with a smirk of my own.
Handling alcohol was something my body had been thoroughly trained to do—so much that even Father had struggled to beat me in drinking contests.
"It's fine," I replied calmly with a shrug of nonchalance. The waiter—no, more like a Chinese maid—bowed before leaving to get our orders.
Nico and I were left alone, sitting side by side. Yet neither of us spoke. I had a lot to say, and for some reason I could tell he did too but neither of us seemed in a hurry.
Releasing a quiet sigh, I waited silently, trying to ignore the alluring smell of his cologne.
He's dangerous, Carmen. Don't let your guard down.
I needed him as an ally, and I intended to be honest and open tonight—but I wasn't stupid enough to drop my guard completely.
A few minutes later several maids entered, placing different dishes across the table. Both of us immediately focused on filling our plates with the food we wanted. They tasted magnificent. The dumplings. The sweet-and-sour pork. The fried rice.
Soon even Nico's presence faded to the background as I focused on the food, eating with quiet satisfaction.
Until I felt Nico's hand brush mine. He leaned across my side of the table, grabbing a bottle of baijiu—one of the strongest Chinese alcoholic drinks. He poured me a cup before pouring one for himself.
He had barely eaten anything to steady his stomach, yet he wore a proud, arrogant expression that I desperately wanted to wipe off his face.
"To achieving our goals without killing each other," he said, lifting his cup.
I raised mine, tapping it lightly against his.
"To achieving our goals without killing each other," I repeated. Then I swallowed the contents in one gulp, feeling the alcohol burn its way down my throat.
The goal tonight was to speak plainly and honestly so that we could establish even the smallest amount of trust.
A goal I intended to follow…Until it stopped serving me. Those were the rules. Father's rules and so far had kept me alive.