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She wrinkles her nose. “I’m serious.”
“Yes.”
“No.” She stops. “I mean I’mserious. I’m going to kill you.”
I want to remind her that she can’t even kill a spider. She uses Ms. Kittles for that bit of death. But I don’t, because she truly feels strongly about murdering me, taking what’s mine, and gaining her freedom. “All right, but could you wait until after we meet the celebrity chef?”
She clasps her hands in front of her, her eyes wide. “Is it really him?”
A string of curses in a decidedly British accent reverberate from the kitchen.
“Oh my God, it’s him!” She jumps up and down, a feat in the heels she’s wearing.
“Would you like to meet him?” I tamp down my jealousy. He’s married, and he’s been briefed on what’s expected of him.
“Are you kidding? Yes!”
I hold my hand out to her.
She takes it, her palm sliding perfectly against mine.
“Let’s go introduce ourselves.” I walk with her to the kitchen door and push it open. The entire room is a whirling dervish of activity with the chef at the head.
He turns and smiles, his hands open toward us. “Mr. and Mrs. Knight, welcome!”
To my utter surprise, Cassandra doesn’t disavow the name, she simply pulls me over to him and gushes about how he’s her favorite chef and who she thought should’ve won season three.
She shines, and I notice more than a few stolen glances from some of the assistant chefs. I’d like to murder them and throw them in the deepest mine I own. But I don’t. Because I’m the one whose hand she hasn’t let go of. I’m the one who’ll be making her moan tonight. And I’m the man who will tame this little vixen at my side, and enjoy every second of it.
* * *
“Did you enjoy it?” I toss my napkin beside my plate.
She pats her stomach. “I’ve never eaten so much in my life.”
“No?”
“Mother never would’ve let me have this much food.” She shakes her head. “I think her goal was to pawn me off on some gullible rich guy, so she wanted me thin and pretty.”
“You’d be pretty no matter what your weight.” I mean the words. She’s beautiful, and I’ll take her however I can get her.
“Really?” The surprise in her tone somehow hurts me, the thought that she would devalue herself based on her looks doesn’t sit right.
“Does that make me the gullible rich guy?” My blood still boils when I think of how her mother tried to sell me her virginity right along with the antique fire irons.
“Hey, if the shoe fits.” It should ring as an insult, but instead she smiles playfully. “But somehow you don’t strike me as gullible. Foolish? Yes. I mean, you married someone who wants you dead.”
“You still plan to end me?”
“Definitely.” She nods.
Clayton stands in the hall, and I can almost hear his neck creaking with tension as the threat rolls off my vixen’s lips.
She groans as she stands. “But maybe it can wait until after I come down from this food high.”
“Upstairs?” I offer my hand.
She takes it. “Because I want to see Ms. Kittles, not because I want to be with you.”
