Chapter 88: Codename: Aconite Chapter Thirty-Eight
I smile as Silas saunters around to the driver’s side of the car, opening my door and extending his hand to me. I see behaving like a gentleman on our first date was not part of his performance. With an impressed smile, I place my freshly manicured hand in his and step out of the car. I take a moment to drink in the delectable sight of him, committing every bulge and dip of his perfect body to memory as I do almost every time I look at him now.
Silas is the first man I’ve ever known to wear a corseted vest, and now that I have seen it, all other attire pales in comparison. I never thought a fully clothed man could be so erotic, but it’s the greatest discovery of my lifetime. Now that I mention it, I realise all our sexual encounters so far have been clothed, and I’m not complaining. There’s something so carnal about craving someone so much you have to have them then and there that not even the confines of clothes can stop you. Between me, myself, and I, I’m getting hot just thinking about it.
Silas’ perfectly firm and supple ass that would make Zeus say ‘Ganymede, who?’ is on full display in black stretch-slacks that mould to his muscular thighs like a second skin. His godly biceps are hugged and caressed by a black satin dress shirt which is tucked underneath a stunning black and white striped, satin corset vest with silver florals down the front panels. The attire is finished with a mirrored tie – did not know that was a thing – and shiny black patent leather Oxfords.
“Have I told you how exquisite you look?” he asks, raising my hand to his lips, and placing a slow and lingering kiss on the back of my hand.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I watch his smouldering emerald eyes glance up at me through his dark lashes, teasing me with unspoken promises of inexhaustible pleasure.
“Several times. But I’m more than happy to hear it again,” I say with a playful smirk.
His eyes slowly travel over my body, scanning every inch of me just as I had done to him. We must have done this a dozen times by now, but neither of us seems to tire of our respective views.
For this evening I pulled out my best Valentino couture. A tight, mid-thigh length black lace and sequin dress, with bishop sleeves and a high neck choker and a plunging, sheer, V cut-out that reaches down to my navel. Sheer black stockings tease my date with a mere hint of what lies beneath the nylon, while four-inch patent-leather spiked heels give me enough height to save me from straining my neck. My hair has been straightened and then pumped with enough volume to reach Mount Olympus, while elaborate diamond-encrusted earrings hang from my ears. My make-up is soft, yet sultry, to add intensity to my eyes while my lips are a soft coral to accentuate their natural fullness. I put extra effort into this ensemble, and if I’m lucky, dinner won’t be the only thing he dines on tonight.
Silas wraps my hand around his elbow as he closes the car door. “Shall we go in?”
“We shall,” I say brightly, “And thank you for letting me choose the restaurant.”
“Well, I would be an idiot not to let the native decide which establishment is best to dine at,” he says playfully. “Have you been to this place before?”
“Oh, you could say that,” I answer evasively as we enter the restaurant.
As we step into Ambrosia I feel right at home. The low lighting immediately immerses you in a cozy, yet intimate setting. The décor consisting of grey and black marble floors along with grey and black furniture, promotes a sense of luxury, while the warm brown walls, tables and fixtures bring warmth to an otherwise cold palette. The pops of red found in the subtle backlighting and specific seating areas create the illusion of heat and intimacy, making it one of the best dining experiences in all of Greece. Ambrosia hosts a very exclusive clientele, and you won’t find it in any dining guides.
“Dasha!” cheers the host, Marios, weaving through chairs as he makes his way over to me with his arms outstretched.
I release Silas and take Marios’ hands as he reaches me, kissing each other on both cheeks.
“Marios, you are looking eye-catching as ever,” I say as I admire the very loud yellow-gold suit he’s wearing with a white dress shirt and dark gold tie.
Ambrosia is owned by the Drakos family, and Marios is not only the host, but he is the establishment’s eyes, ears, and muscle. Nothing happens within these walls that he doesn’t know about. Any business dealings whether legitimate or shady, are all observed by Marios and reported back to Dimitris. Marios is a very bold and effervescent person, which he demonstrates with his fashion. But I assure you, he is not someone you want to cross or insult. Growing up, many Drakos sons would make Marios the target of their harassment. It often resulted in those sons swallowing their teeth. People learned to back off very quickly.
“You flatter me, but I think all eyes will be on you in that stunning ensemble. Valentino?” he asks, admiring my dress.
“Good eye,” I praise. “Marios, this is Silas. Silas, this is Marios,” I introduce, noting the way Silas is watching our interaction intently.
Marios’ eyes twinkle with mirth as he extends his hand to Silas, who politely shakes it. “You’re nothing like the kind of man she usually brings here,” he says casually. I roll my eyes at Marios’ blatant attempt to get a rise out of Silas. How childish. How his boyfriend tolerates him I’ll never know.
“And what kind of man does she usually bring here?” Silas casually asks with a pleasant smile on his face, but the tension in his jaw and the hardness in his eyes give away his displeasure.
“He’s talking about my father,” I say, smacking Marios’ chest. “Stop being a reh malákas and point us to our table.”
Marios chuckles, “You know I couldn’t resist. Right this way,” he instructs guiding us through the restaurant.