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I think most would consider him attractive. As he stands to greet me, I notice he’s tall, a medium to slim build, has dark hair which is slicked back with an undercut, and beautifully shaped pouty lips. His Cupid’s bow is seriously perfect. His nose is long and straight, his cheekbones high. The overall look is strong, but a tiny bit effeminate. Okay, next to my princes he’d look ridiculous, but here in this over the top decadent setting? He does look good. Only, his eyes do something strange to my stomach.
I don’t know how to describe them. It’s like they’re colourless. Obviously, they can’t be, but there’s no colour I can think of that matches his gaze. They’re black, but that isn’t enough to describe them. Worse, they’re gazing at me with a fierce intensity that’s completely cold. Like, devoid of all expression, feeling, emotion or reaction. It makes me shiver. And not in a good way.
“Nice to meet you.” His mellifluous voice is like honey being poured over warm toast, a strong contrast to the icy impenetrable stare he’s giving me. He holds out his hand for me to shake over the table, and I step forward quickly to engage him.
“And you?” Damn it, why did it come out as a question? I need to get a grip. My hand feels too warm in his icy crushing handshake, and I barely contain a squeal when he gives it a squeeze. He raises the back of my hand to his lips and kisses it, all while staring at me with his dead gaze.
I’m seriously uncomfortable now, but that only ricochets up even further when he fails to drop my hand and uses it as a lever to pull me in closer. I have to go up onto my tiptoes to lean across the table, and I’m seriously worried about smashing the cut crystal glasses. He pulls and pulls until I’m virtually lying across the tabletop and then he leans in to kiss me.
In a panic, I try to pull away, but obviously can’t with my hand clamped in his, and he ends up kissing me on the lips instead of - I hope - his intended cheek. It’s as cold as his gaze. Like kissing a dead fish. Gag. And in my haste to get the hell away from him, I yank my hand back, just as he loosens his grip, and my elbow sends a wine goblet flying across the table with a loud clatter. To make matters worse, the entire exchange has been watched by Cordelia and Richard.
“Ah, young love,” Richard titters with a smirk. I send him a death glare and vow to call him Dick from now on. He ignores me and turns to my grandma. “Shall we dine in the formal room and leave these two to get to know each other a little better?”
I plead silently with my grandma to stay, suddenly desperate to be their third wheel rather than this guy’s date, but she only has eyes for Rich the Dick, and she’s not even looking at me. Instead, she nods her assent and allows him to lead her from the room where he closes the door behind them. Firmly.
It feels like the sealing of a tomb.
I stand awkwardly for a moment while he just stares at me, and then I sit down. May as well, I get the feeling I’m not going anywhere until my grandmother’s done so I may as well eat at least. Baxter watches me silently for a moment before sitting down much more elegantly than I did. Luckily I’m spared having to make conversation with the creep because as soon as his ass touched the seat, doors at the opposite end of the room fly open, and the first course is served.
Baxter doesn’t speak. He doesn’t eat. He doesn’t even move. He just stares at me until I’m squirming uncomfortably in my seat. I dig into the starter, not caring what it is. It looks divine like everything else on the island does, but I can’t taste it. I’d hoped that my starting to eat would stir Baxter into movement, but it doesn’t. He just sits and stares at me, elbows on the table, fingertips together, resting pensively against his chin.
“What’s up with the name thing?” he finally asks.
Ugh. I preferred him mute. I don’t want to talk about this, and his stupid sultry voice has me wanting to open up and confide all my secrets to this jerk. No way. Not happening.
“What’s up with the name Baxter?” I bite back. “Your parents really like soup or something?” Ah there it is, the snark that shows how uncomfortable I am. Still, I’d rather be rude than wrong-footed with this guy.
To my surprise, he chuckles lightly, and his face completely changes. I can see it now - that he could be charming if he wanted to be - that he could easily dupe many girls. But not me, I’ve seen what lurks beneath his pretty polished exterior, and I won’t be fooled.
“Touché,” he says, still laughing slightly. “So you don’t want to talk about that then. What shall we talk about?”
I shrug and keep eating. He’s yet to touch a bite.
“You a vampire or something?” I ask.
“Pardon?” Ugh, why so polite?
“The not eating thingy.” I wave my fork inelegantly at his plate.
“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t notice. I was distracted by the beauty in the room.” He gives me a look that’s supposed to be smouldering but falls flat on account of his eyes being dead and all, and I realise that this is his play. Whenever he goes on a date - not that this is a date - this is how he behaves. Every single time. Gag. No, I’m actually gagging at his words. Does shit like that actually work on anyone with a brain cell? Apparently it must as his face registers shock at my failure to melt and simper at his words.
“Well I’m starving, so if you could begin, I’ll be able to get my main course sooner. I hope it’s more substantial than whatever this fairy food is.”
“Fairy food?” Damn it. Why is he still not eating? I stare pointedly at his plate, refusing to answer until he gets the hint and digs in.
“Yes, fairy food. All pretty and dainty. Portion size only big enough to fill a fairy.”
He snorts in amusement, picking up the tiny morsel from his plate and popping it into his mouth in one go.
“This is a five hour, 12-course tasting menu. The portion sizes have to be small; otherwise you’d pop.” He laughs. He really does have a beautiful sounding voice. Damn him.
“Wait! What? Five hours?”
“At least.” He smirks, enjoying my discomfort. I think he knows that I don’t want to be here. He certainly seems to be enjoying himself at my expense tonight.
“I’d rather have a steak and ice cream,” I blurt out just as the servers enter to take away our plates. There’s a look of horror on each of their faces, and the one rushes from the room immediately, leaving the other girl to collect both of our plates. Two empty plates, however will she manage on her own?
When we’re alone again, we sit in silence. Awkward. I sigh. I need to do something otherwise this will be the longest night in history.
