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“You gave me no choice.”
“There’s always a choice.” He squeezed my thigh. “I told you to leave your hair down.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” I spat under my breath, ignoring the fact that I called this man Master in the bedroom. “I can do whatever I want.”
“That remains to be seen, pet,” he drawled and went on to have a conversation with his brother like the hold on my thigh wasn’t doing funny things to my heart and well, my vagina.
My phone buzzed in my clutch. Without looking at it, I knew it was Ella. Much to Zeno’s chagrin, I had extended the invite to Ella and Cade. It was a close celebration and he considered them outsiders, but I didn’t care. I needed the moral support of someone besides Dacia and my mother.
Why aren’t you eating? —Ellie
I looked over at the table next to ours and found a quizzical expression on my best friend’s face.
I couldn’t eat. I was too nervous about how the rest of this evening would play out. My stomach was in knots and I felt like I would puke if someone didn’t cut the tension running through our table.
Dacia was sitting stoically, conversing only when she was asked a question, while Diane was busy with her wine glass, refusing to engage my in-laws. Moreover, the latter kept shooting me sour glances like it was my fault Zeno insulted her.
I have no appetite. —Darling
Don’t let them get the best of you, Darla. —Ellie
Easier said than done, babe. —Darling
I was also afraid that if my sister and mother didn’t play nice, Zeno would renege on our contract.
Ella wasn’t the only observant one. My fiancé’s attention was back on me. “Why aren’t you eating?”
“I’m just not hungry.”
“Bullshit. You’ve been staring at the chocolate muffins sitting on the table for the last twenty minutes.”
My cheeks heated. Okay, so I liked food. I liked desserts even more. I just learned to pace myself over the years as I grew older. My body was a temple and I liked to stay healthy, but I was a sucker for chocolate and indulged occasionally. Moreover, I loved the way I looked, but I had the kind of body that fluctuated easily in weight if I wasn’t careful.
Unfortunately, my mother also liked to remind me of that fact all too often. She was skin and bones and thought women over a hundred and thirty pounds veered close to the F-word.
“I have not.”
One of the staff members had brought a basket full of warm chocolate muffins and a tall glass of milk because Éva wasn’t in the mood for lemon garlic chicken. My future sister-in-law happily munched on while shooting me sheepish looks every time I caught her staring at me.
Before I could protest, Zeno grabbed my plate and handed it over to a passing waiter. Then he grabbed two chocolate muffins and placed them on a spare plate in front of me. “Mange.”
Everyone stared at us.
I levelled him with a chafing expression. “Well, I don’t have a choice now, considering you took my dinner away.”
“You weren’t in the mood for dinner,” he stated, cutting into his chicken. The way he worked the knife through the meat reminded me of how purposeful he was. How every action of his seemed calculated. “You wanted something sweet. I gave you something sweet.”
“Um, do you like to cook, Darla?” Céline asked to diffuse the tension around the table. Clearly nobody knew what to make of Zeno and me.
Honestly, neither did I.
“I prefer to eat,” I amended with an impish grin.
Céline gazed at me like we formed a sisterhood. “Same. The women in our family aren’t the best cooks, but the men? I think they really belong in the kitchen. Zeno is a fantastic cook. So is my Yves. Ben…Ben tries.”
The younger brother jokingly glared at his mom. “I make the best pancakes. Ask Éva.”
“He does,” Éva said. “But it’s the only thing he knows how to make right.”
