Note to self: do not look at him when it isn’t necessary.
It’s right up there with staring into the sun.
I guess I can add that to the endless list of inappropriate movements at these bashes for the wealthy.
Across the room, Margot laughs, throwing her head back. Her stance is perfectly calculated to show off the long lines of her legs.
She’s so effortlessly elegant.
I’ll never understand why she doesn’t date more. It wouldn’t be hard for her to find a rich and handsome husband at these balls, surely.
That’s what happens when you’re born into it, I guess.
A gong chimes shortly after Ethan has made his introductions, summoning us to dinner in a gigantic great room.
I hope he can’t feel my sweaty hand on his arm as he leads me across to our own table in a secluded corner.
Joy.
I’m not expecting the gentleman act when he pulls out my chair and helps me into my seat. When he sits across from me, his gaze lands on me for a heartbeat.
Silence.
Eerily intense.
My face heats.
We haven’t really had a private conversation with just the two of us yet, which is absurd when we’re technically engaged.
When we were kids, he had no interest in talking, beyond screwing with my head. I wasn’t exactly dying to spend time with a boy who lacked a moral bone in his body, either.
So now here we are.
I pour myself some wine and take a sip.
There are no menus—Ethan must have ordered for us in advance, so I can’t even pretend to browse my meal options. Seconds later, the first course arrives—a summer corn soup with crab that gives me a welcome distraction.
Just as we’re finishing, another plate slides in front of me. I have perfectly cooked salmon with a savory glaze laid out in front of me.
The smell is heaven.
My eyes flick to Ethan’s beef Wellington, then to his face.
“I remembered you like fish,” he says.
What.
I can’t help the double take. Thankfully, he doesn’t appear to notice.
I dig my fork in the food and sigh happily after a bite.
“That’s nice of you. We need to talk at some point, though.”
He looks at me. I can’t help thinking he looks at home in silence.
It wraps around him like a second skin, adding to his guarded mystique. But it’s making me a little antsy, amplifying the buzz from the attention being thrown my way.
“Anytime. What specifically?” He leans back in his chair, finally looking me full in the face.
