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I rubbed the back of my head. “I’m at dinner. You’re going to have to wait until tomorrow.”
“Are you with Kennedy?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“Never mind. Can we meet at the stables tomorrow? After breakfast?”
I had a meeting with Paul first thing but then I was free. “I’ll see you there. Are you okay until then? Are you sure?”
“Yes. Yes. I’m fine. I’ll meet you tomorrow. Enjoy your date.”
I scowled. “I didn’t say I was on a date.”
Seraphina hung up before I could say anything else. I tucked my phone back in my pocket. Kennedy was sitting at the table when I returned. She was looking across the room.
God, I wanted to know what was running through that gorgeous head of hers. She had grown more beautiful in five years than I could have imagined. I wondered if she had chosen the dress and the necklace to fuck with me. I swore it was the same black cocktail dress she had worn when we met. I slid the door closed. She turned.
“Where’s the champagne?” She saw I was empty-handed.
“I have a second surprise for you.”
Her emerald eyes widened. “And what’s that?”
“I sold my apartment when I moved to Paris. I haven’t been back long enough to buy something new. I will soon.”
“Oh? I assumed you’d move into the compound.”
My jaw tightened. “With my mother? No thank you. She can keep the manse.” She wandered the halls after midnight, carrying empty wine glasses, shouting at the servants for refills. She was a drunken banshee.
“I guess she would be a challenging housemate.”
I chuckled. “That’s putting it mildly. Anyway, our date is moving locations.”
“Now are we going to Marguerite’s?”
“No. Trust me. You’ll like this better.”
Kennedy rose from the table. “Should I keep guessing?”
“No, you should not.”
She stepped into my space. “Fine.”
Her lotion was the same citrus scent. It entered my nose, filling me with memories. Fuck. The compulsion to kiss her was strong. I gazed at her pink lips. I repressed the urge and offered her my arm.
“Let’s go.”
Once we were out of the dining room, we turned the corner for the elevator bay. Kennedy kept glancing at me. She expected an answer. She knew her way around the hotel. This wasn’t a backway to the parking garage. I inserted an
antique brass key into the control panel. It clicked softly with the flick of my wrist.
“Upstairs?” She blinked. “Part two is upstairs?”
“What’s the difference between going to the suite and back to my place?”
I thought it was a valid point.
She faltered. “The people in this hotel work for me. I’ve never gone to a room with a guest. That’s a huge difference.”
