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“No,” I said. “Not tonight. Sorry. I want it to be just us.”
I braced myself for disappointment, or an eye roll, or, worse, a very long, level look. Instead Elena put her phone down on the cushion beside her and let out a long breath, as though she’d been holding it for a full minute.
“Thank you,” she said. “That’s exactly what I hoped you’d say. Well, not exactly. But it’s the right answer.”
“You wanted me to say no?”
“I wanted you to feel that you could.” She leaned over and typed, read it aloud as she sent it. “Change of plan, Z. Sorry, big love, rain check. Nothing wrong. Another night.” Three dots, a thumbs-up, a row of aubergines. “She says you’re a sweetheart and she’ll be keeping the prosecco.”
She crossed the rug and sat down in front of me, so we were eye to eye. Her hands cupped my face.
“I’m serious, Mark. If a game like this only works when you say yes to everything, then it isn’t a game. It’s a trap. I didn’t want a trap. I wanted you to trust me, and I wanted to be someone you could say no to.” Her thumb stroked my cheekbone. “Which, by the way, is rather sexy of you.”
She kissed me. Slow, warm, tasting of wine. Her hand slid down my chest and into my boxers, and my whole body answered at once.
“Now,” she said against my mouth. “I’m still the one who won. So I’m still giving the orders.”