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He caught my eye over their heads and I mouthed, “You’re fucked.”
Shaun blew me a kiss.
I launched into a new discussion about the Girls in Leadership project at St. Victoria, hoping I could get some insight from Hera and help divert her attention from Idris. “I want to focus on marketing as a discipline for the next seminar. Ella agreed to be a keynote speaker. I believe young girls will benefit from seeing someone in such a powerful role at her company. Not only to boost their confidence, but for them to realize women are the future leaders of tomorrow—”
“What are you ladies talking about?”
My husband finally decided to show up.
Peeved that he interrupted me, I said with pretty venom, “About how much I hate the patriarchy.”
“Fascinating. When should we launch our crusade to dismantle them?” Zeno joked good-naturedly.
Hera laughed until I shot her a miffed look.
My husband, ever the gentleman in public, reached forward to shake my friend’s hand. “Nice to meet you again, Hera.”
“Likewise.” She smiled at Zeno. “I’ll leave you two to it. I should probably go find Shaun.”
“Yes,Shaun, who looks like he needs rescuing from a horde of pageant queens,” Zeno said with mock amusement.
“Sounds like him,” Hera mumbled. “I’ll see you guys later, all right?”
She left and Zeno hiked an eyebrow. “Is that his girlfriend?”
Tonight, he was ravishing in a black suit with my hairpin clipped to his tie. I fought the urge to scrape my fingers through his styled hair and yank him down for a kiss.
Ever since the night I deep-throated his cock in my conservatory room, I could not stop thinking about his reasoning for kissing me. It stuck in my head like a broken record and morphed my insides to mush.
I wanted distance between Zeno and me, but I was the one who could not stay away.
My husband was slowly becoming an irresistible addiction.
Snapping out of my daze, I said, “She’s the love of his life, but she’s married.”
“Ah, sounds taboo. Maybe you should write a story about them.” He cleared his throat and murmured in a lower pitch, “The most forbidden fruitby—”
“You’re not funny.” I inched him a withering look, but my lips curled up.
He grinned devilishly and snagged a ramekin of crème brûlée from a passing waiter’s tray. “Admit it, you like my humour.” He shoved a spoonful of creamy dessert into his mouth and hummed. I swear I felt that sound deep in my womb. “Amongst other things, of course.”
He winked and my throat dried up.
I liked his sense of humour the same way I liked it when he put me on my stomach and smacked my ass. And Ilovedthe way he whispered in soft Italian mixed with French, while he screwed me hard.
Then I remembered this bastard deprived me of an orgasm, and I felt annoyed all over again. “I’ll admit to no such thing.”
Zeno perused me. A once-over that stated he liked my off-the-shoulder emerald gown, and the matching emerald and white diamond jewelry. He licked the spoon but kept his eyes on my lips. “Veux-tu goûter?”
My cheeks pinkened. The crème brûlée looked too good to pass. So did my husband. “Non.”
“Try a bite.” Zeno hedged a large spoonful my way. It was an affectionate gesture under the watchful gazes of Montardor’s elite society and it served its purpose: making Zeno look more humane to the grand public.
I did want a bite, yet I reluctantly said, “That’s a big one.”
His eyes glittered with mischief. “You can take it.”
I shook my head at his bad joke and he pushed the spoon past the seam of my mouth. Sugary custard goodness exploded over my taste buds and I almost moaned.
