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A shy expression crawls over Nadia’s cheekbones. She presses her nose into the flowers, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’ into the petals. The way she peers up at me from beneath her lashes is the most endearing thing I’ve ever seen.
Nadia’s mother wiggles her way in between us and pries the bouquet from her daughter’s hands. “Let me. I’ll get these in some water.” She sticks her hand out to me, and I take it. “I’m Cleo.”
Nadia gives her head a little shake. “Sorry, yes, my mom.”
“And I’m Madalyn.” The little girl grins at me.
Nadia introduces me to each member of her family and I try not to let on how much it means to me. I want them to know me, to see that I’m serious about Nadia. Hell—I want them on my side.
Bryan, Nadia’s nephew, stares up at me with wide innocent eyes as I’m shaking his tiny, sticky hand. “Are you taking Auntie to the ball? If you don’t kiss her at midnight, will she turn into a pumpkin?” He looks genuinely concerned for the wellbeing of his aunt.
“Bryan, that’s not how the story goes,” the little girl scolds her brother. “Thecarriageturns into a pumpkin if he doesn’t kiss her at midnight. Right, auntie? Then she’ll have to take an Uber to get home.”
Nancy gingerly limps into the middle of the room. “Fuck it,” she mumbles, stiffly lifting an arm above her head and firing shots of ylang ylang into the air, letting it rain down on every damn body.
Nadia eyeballs her grandmother curiously then turns her attention to me. She lays her hand on my arm, steering me toward the door. Her touch sets me on fire. That innocent hand on my bicep does wicked things to me I’d rather not mention in the presence of young children.
And I’ve got butterflies, dammit. It might not be the manliest thing to admit. But that’s the effect Nadia Chester has on me.
She speaks quietly to me. “Let’s get out of here, shall we, Mr. Prince?”
“We shall.” I help her into her coat. Right before we step out the door, I give Bryan a reassuring wink. “Don’t worry, little man. I will do everything in my power to make sure your aunt doesn’t turn into a pumpkin tonight.” When I pucker up and waggle my brows, the kids burst into giggles.
That earns me a glare from Nadia’s father and my gorgeous date elbows me in the ribs.
Meanwhile, Nadia’s mother fans her face. “You have my full and complete support, handsome. Do all the kissingit takes to keep my daughter from turning into a pumpkin.”
Bending at the waist, I solemnly tip an invisible hat at the woman. Like the galant, respectable man that I am.
Mr. Chester’s glare goes sharper. He clears his throat. I don’t think he appreciates my joke. “Cleo, get over here…” he grumbles and his wife scampers over to his side, grinning mischievously the whole time. He discreetly smacks her butt.
Laughing, I wave goodbye to our crowd, and we make our way down the steps.
Nadia watches me out the side of her eyes as we walk, gripping onto the arm I offer to steady her. “Sorry about them. This is why I never introduce my family to anyone I date. Because they can be so damn overbearing and embarrassing.”
My eyebrows shoot up. She just called this a date. Oh, yes she fucking did. It takes her a moment to realize her slip of the tongue.
Uneasiness floods her eyes. “I just…I mean…”
“I know what you mean.” I smile softly at her. I can see that she’s struggling with her nerves. Now wouldn’t be the best time to make a sleazy joke about her secretly wanting to jump my bones.
“All this is super weird for me,” she says so quietly I barely hear it.
“Hey.” I wait for her eyes to meet mine. “I get it. I’ve got you tonight.”
Her gaze stays on my face, those dark irises swimming in a softness I want to feel on my skin all night. “Thank you…”
When we get to my sportscar, Nadia makes a move to open the passenger door, but I jog forward, beating her to it. I open the door for her, wearing a grin.
She sends me a guarded look as she sinks into her seat and places her clutch in her lap. I race over to the driver’s side and slide in, thinking about my mom’s advice to get Nadia to let her guard down.
Make her comfortable.
Earn her trust.
Mom only reinforced those points yesterday when I called to tell her I’d be taking Nadia to the gala. I’m not exactly sure how to do that, so I check that the car’s heater is on the right temperature and turn the radio to a station I think she’d like, as we drive across town.
It’s quiet, but not in a bad way. I can feel her inquisitive eyes on me, as I’m watching the road. But every time I glance over, she quickly shifts her attention out the windshield to the light traffic moving around us. She’s nervous.
