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My eyes go back to my frowning.
“No, there’s no stain. You simply cannot wear that out of the hotel. In public.”
I smooth my hands down my hips. “I think it looks good,” I say.
“It’s too much,” he blurts.
“Too much for what? A romantic dinner out on the town? What’s eating you, Etienne?”
Mumbling, he paces around the room.
He goes to my closet and pulls out a cape. “Here,” he says, wrapping it around me. “You’ll get cold.”
I laugh, realizing now he’s joking. “That’s funny, husband. You do realize this cape is wool. I brought it just in case of a cold night. Tonight it’s balmy, and the sea is calm. Besides, it’s purple and doesn’t even go with the dress.”
Etienne looks torn between wanting to tell me what to do and wanting to stare at me in this banging dress.
“I wasn’t aware that racy lingerie was acceptable dinner attire.”
I freeze, my purple cape clutched in my hands. “I wasn’t aware my husband thought my choice of clothing was too racy for dinner. I’ll try to behave like less of a whore, Your Majesty.”
Nudging Etienne aside, I try to re-hang the cape.
“That’s not what I said, Kala.”
“It’s what you meant, Etienne.” The cape falls to the floor and I snarl in frustration, picking it up again and looping it around the hanger, this time remembering to fasten the snaps.
He scoffs. “You are impossible.”
I hang the cape and slam it back on the rod, turning to him as anger heats my face. “And you are a petulant, obtuse nincompoop!”
His gaze locks onto my mouth.
“So many big words, darling. Good work; it’ll give us something to unpack over dinner.”
I turn back to the closet and rifle through the contents, looking for a light sweater to wear over the dress.
I can feel Etienne hovering behind me, his presence mere inches away, not touching, yet his energy permeates the air around me like a caress.
I change my mind, then, and turn to him.
“The dress is fine. You’ll just have to deal with it.”
We leave the room and head down to the lobby to wait for our car to take us to the restaurant while my insides roll like a thunderstorm.
* * *
“Right this way,” Steffen says, leading us not outside to wait for our car but down a hallway and into a lavish, empty dining room.
“What is happening?” Etienne asks.
“Your Highness requested a reservation? This is the reservation.”
“I asked for a reservation at a restaurant outside the resort.” I feel Etienne getting heated, and I rest on his shoulder.
“This will be just fine. Won’t it, darling?” I say.
I’m sure no one misses the acid I put into the pet name.
