Confined

Chapter Eleven - Deal with the Devil

"Sure." I stared out the windshield, the sky starting to turn pink at the edges. We hadn't passed any other houses or buildings since we left, and I realized just how far from everything we really were. I'm still surprised that we're going anywhere at all. Isn't Jaime worried that I might run off? Maybe this is all an elaborate plan to see if he can trust me.

"I've heard you've been helping Alma?"

"Yeah. She's been teaching me some of her recipes."

Silence filled the car again as Jaime drove. After an hour of driving, Jaime turned the car, and suddenly, we were back in the city. Tall buildings loomed above us, blocking out what little sunlight was left. I stared out the window, noticing that Jaime took a route that didn't pass by Black Wolf.

"When can I go back?" I asked softly, longing to be one of the people out on the sidewalk.

Jaime sighed. "You can't. It's too dangerous." I opened my mouth to object but he cut me off. "You've been associated with me. That's enough."

"It's because of you."

"We can't go back and change it now. It's too much of a risk to send you back. If anyone has already found out about you, you're in danger. You're safer with me-us." If what he said was true, then my life might be in the past. I wasn't sure whether I believed it or not.

Jaime pulled to a stop in front of a restaurant with a line that trailed halfway down the sidewalk. The valet rushed to the car before Jaime even put it in park.

"I hope you have a reservation. This place looks packed." I commented, the valet opening my door for me. Jaime smirked as he stepped out of the car, coming around to meet me.

Jaime's hand rested on the small of my back as we climbed the steps leading to the front door. The neon sign above the door read Gionno in cursive letters. The people waiting in line glared at us as we passed, but I just focused on the ground in front of me and Jaime's hand on my back.

When we approached the host stand, I expected Jaime to give his name or bribe her into giving us a table, but upon seeing us, the woman immediately led us to a quiet booth in the back.

"Mr. Santoro, Ms. Williams, enjoy your meal." The host places two menus on the table and leaves. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at Jaime seated across from me.

"I called ahead. I own the restaurant."

"You own it?" I ask, incredulous.

"It was my great-grandfather's. Gionno Santoro." He said as if that answered everything.

"So, Mr. Owner, any suggestions?" I looked over the menu but it was foreign to me. Literally. "Wait a second, is this actually in Italian? How does anyone even order here?" I scoured the menu for something in English while Jaime watched me with amusement. "I think I'll have the spaghetti." I declared proudly, pointing at the word Spaghetti.

"That's the kids' menu." Jaime chuckled.

The server was approaching our table. I shut the menu, setting it down on the table. "Fine, you can just order for me." I said quickly, before the server reached us.

"Good evening, Mr. Santoro, Ms. Williams. How are we doing this evening?"

"We're fine, Bryan." Jaime greeted. "We're ready to order." Bryan didn't seem surprised and pulled out a notebook, pen at the ready. Jaime rattled off what I assumed was food in Italian while Bryan jotted it all down and hurried off to the kitchen.

"So, you're Italian?"

"Half Italian. My father's side is from Italy. My mother was American."

"Have you ever been to Italy?"

Jaime nodded. "I used to go every year, but I haven't been back in a while."

"That's so cool. I'd love to travel more." My words grew softer as I realized that I probably won't be traveling anytime soon.

Jaime hesitated when Bryan returned with our drinks. He spoke when he was out of earshot. "I could take you, if you want."

His offer caught me off guard and I choked on my water. "Um, okay." I said when I could finally speak. I tried to think of something to change the subject to avoid the smile he was giving me across the table. His smirk I could handle, but his smile that showed off one crooked tooth on the bottom row summoned an army of butterflies in my stomach.

"Did you grow up in Chicago then?" I finally asked, fidgeting with my water glass and not looking at him.

"Born and raised. Lived in the same house for twenty-eight years." His smile left as he raised his glass to his lips. "What about you?"

"Well, I grew up in Maryland and left when I graduated high school. I traveled for a little bit before I landed in Chicago a couple years ago."

"Where did you go?" Jaime propped his elbows on the table, leaning forward.

"Oh, you know. All the touristy places. New York, DC, Nashville. I haven't been out of the country though. Never made it quite that far."

"Why stay in Chicago then?"

I raised my eyebrows. I had never really thought about it. "I don't know. I guess it felt like this is where I was supposed to be." I felt a blush heating my cheeks. "Sorry, that sounds stupid, doesn't it."

"Not at all." Jaime stared at me like he could read my thoughts. Like he could see straight into my soul. I leaned my elbows on the table, mirroring him as my eyes locked with his.

"Buon appetito." Bryan appeared out of nowhere with two steaming plates of pasta, setting them down in front of us. I jumped back in my seat, hands falling to my lap. Jaime slowly took his elbows off the table, clasping his hands in front of him as Bryan left us alone once more.

"So, what do you do for fun?" I asked, unraveling my silverware and draping the cloth napkin in my lap.

"I don't have time for fun."

"Oh, come on. You have to have at least one hobby."

Jaime shrugged, shaking his head. "Working keeps me busy."

I frowned, unconvinced. "If you had a day off, what would you do?"

"I never have a day off." He replied, staring at me over his plate.

"Pretend."

Jaime rolled his eyes, but finally gave in. "Paint."

My eyebrows shoot up. "Paint? Like on canvas?" That was not what I was expecting. Honestly I didn't know what to expect, but Jaime just didn't seem like the type of person that would have the patience for painting. "You'll have to paint me something then."

"Only if you play a song for me."

I froze, fork halfway to my mouth. "I don't play anymore."

"Why not?"

I haven't played in years and for good reason. "I just didn't see the point in it." Not a complete lie.

"Well, I guess I don't have to worry about painting you anything then." Jaime raised his eyebrows playfully.

I clenched my jaw. I wasn't one to back down, but the thought of playing again caused my heart to drop. Jaime must've seen the resolve on my face because he asked, "Do we have a deal?"

Every fiber in my being screamed no, but I couldn't fight the grin that crept onto my face. "Deal."