Blindfolded Innocence by Alessandra Torre

base of the steps.   He gestured for me to go ahead, and I stepped forward.   As I climbed the stairs, he placed a gentle hand on the base of my back.   A delicious shiver ran through me and my subconscious smacked it down like it was a wandering fly.

     
    The maitre'd instantly recognized De Luca and beamed.   "Mr. De Luca!   Come, come, I will put you at your favorite table!"   He grabbed two leather-bound menus and led us through the restaurant.   It was packed, and as we traversed through the tables, we were stopped several times by different men standing up to shake De Luca's hand and say a sentence or two in greeting.   When we finally arrived at the table - a large four top in the back corner, I sank into the seat in relief.   Before I had a chance to open my menu, a tuxedo-clad waiter appeared.

     
    "Mr. De Luca, how are you?"

     
    "Very good, Mimo."

     
    "The usual?"

     
    "Yes please."

     
    Mimo turned and disappeared.   I glanced at De Luca over the menu.  

     
    "Is he going to ask me what I want to drink?"

     
    "No.   Is wine acceptable?"

     
    My headache raised both her hands and waved them around.   "I'd prefer just water."

     
    He nodded without responding.   He ignored the menu and leaned forward on the table, crossing his arms and gazing at me.   His biceps stretched the arms of his dress shirt and I raised the menu a bit higher, hiding behind it.

     
    "How are you enjoying the internship?"

     
    I lowered the menu slightly and spoke over it.   "It's been quite informative.   I feel like I am learning a lot and getting a great base that I will be able to build a strong legal education around."

     
    He reached over and gently pushed the menu down, so that he could look at me.   "Is that what you have prepared as your interview spiel?

     
    I colored slightly.   "Maybe."

     
    "Come on.   I'm not going to go running to Broward.   How is it really going?"

     
    I sighed, not knowing how honest to be.   Hell, the man practically kidnapped you; you can probably be frank.   His eyes were compassionate and gentle, and I didn't see any blood dripping from his teeth.

     
    "It sucks.   Broward works these ridiculous hours and I am nothing more than a glorified secretary.   My duties consist of typing and filing, with an occasional coffee run thrown in.   Other than the prestige of the firm's name, I am adding nothing to my resume.   The other thing I have figured out is that I DON'T want to do corporate law.   The other interns all seem to be learning and doing so much more - Todd has been to COURT with you for heaven's sake!   I am just trying to get through these next couple of months and then spend the next three weeks sleeping."

     
    "I'm sure you've been doing something other than sleeping in your time off."   His brow arched and he gave me a conspiring look.  

     
    Where the hell is that coming from?   I didn't respond.

     
    He leaned back as our waiter brought two empty glasses, and then filled them from a chilled Voss water bottle.   "I know that Kent can be a hard ass, but keep your morale up.   You WILL learn something, even if it is how to bill ridiculously long hours.   If you want to see how the other half lives, you can always spend a day in either my or Clarke's office - we normally sub the interns around a bit - let them see the other disciplines."   The waiter held out a bottle of wine for his inspection, and De Luca looked at it and nodded.

     
    "I don't think I'll be spending much time in the other wings.   Mr. Broward seems pretty intent on keeping me in our office."

     
    His eyes narrowed.   "In your office or out of mine?"

     
    I shifted uncomfortably, no doubt my body language answering the question before my lips even opened.   "More likely the second."

     
    He waved away the offer to taste the wine and the waiter took the hint, hurriedly pouring two glasses of wine and then scurrying away.

     
    "I recall you making a stripper comment