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I take in a shuddering breath, lost for words. I wish I was like the cool girls in movies who always know exactly what to say. But I’m not. I’ve barely spoken to men for most of my life, other than my father and my bodyguards. So I just silently put a hand on his, hoping he understands what I’m trying to say. I like you too. Even though it’s completely insane, I like you. Judging by his smile, he understands.
He flips open the lid of the box. “Damn. I forget to bring plates. You gonna be okay just eating with your hands?”
Instead of answering, I take out a large piece and bite into it. When the creamy, lemony cake hits my tastebuds, I bite back a moan. “God, this is my favorite cake ever. How did you know?”
He shrugs. “Good guess.”
I take another large bite, knowing I shouldn’t wolf the cake down like this, but unable to stop myself. I notice Flint watching me out of the corner of my eye.
“What?” I ask, blushing.
“Nothing. It’s just cute how happy you look over a piece of cake.”
Next time I take a smaller bite, feeling self-conscious. My father always makes comments about how much I love food, often accompanied by a suggestion to just eat a bit less.
“Hey.” Flint’s hand closes around my wrist. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?”
His eyebrows narrow. “You know what. One second you look like the happiest girl in the world, and now you’re—” he gestures at my face, “all sad looking.”
I shrug and paste a smile onto my face. “It’s nothing.”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t give me that bullshit.”
He stares at me expectantly, and I know he won’t let it go. “It’s just—I’m not as skinny as most women. So when people comment on my eating habits…” I trail off, my face warm.
“Oh. Shit.” Flint runs a hand through his hair, wincing. “Fuck. That’s not what I meant. I never even thought—” he shakes his head. “You’re perfect, Oriana. Just the way you are. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”
I open my mouth, just to close it again. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. “Thank you,” I say lamely. “I’m not great with words, but—this means a lot.”
To my surprise, he brushes a kiss to my cheek, his warm breath tickling my skin. “You’re welcome.” His low voice is like a caress. “And now be a good girl and finish your cake. Then I’ll introduce you to the others.”
“You’re going to do what?” I ask, eyes wide.
“I’m going to introduce you to some of my men.” When I just stare at him blankly, he guides my hand to my mouth. “Eat.”
And so I do, my mind reeling and my heart beating in overdrive.
