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“A weird dinner with eighteen guards then,” She flops her hands in exasperation and almost laughs the words.
I narrow my eyes. “You think this is all a joke?”
“Isn’t it?”
She makes a fair point. Still, this feels like a trap. “I’m not courting you like a spoiled princess.”
“And I don’t want to be courted by a bitter vampire, but I want at least one actual discussion before you get down on one knee.”
“I’m not doing that. Bowing. What is it with you people and ancient traditions? I’ll just pull the ring from my pocket when the time comes.” She rolls her eyes and starts to retort but I cut her off. “But fine, we can eat.”
“Good.” She nods once. “A conversation won’t kill you.”
I level a glare at her, “This one’s been pretty tedious.”
“I agree. Ric, you can stop here, please.” She seems pissed now. Another good sign. Something real.
“Señorita?” He says from the front. “We’re only just inside the gates, it’s a long walk to the house?”
“I know, thank you. I need the air. Papá won’t mind, I’ll tell him it was my idea.” She says to him with a pat on his shoulder like he’sherdamn driver and they’re friends.
I wonder if she realizes she is not the politician running for office here.
She opens her door and looks back at me, and her tone turns from friendly to business-like. Which is good, because I am not her friend. “Let’s figure out how to improve our conversation skills before we end upIrritated Ever After.” She reaches a hand out and places it over mine on the seat like she has any right to do so. Her hands are like velvet. And then her tone changes again, softer. “Goodnight, Mark.”
She hops out and closes the car door in my slack-jawed face.
What the?
Why did I agree to dinner?
What in the hell was that touch at the end like she knows me? The way she said my name was…I don’t even know. Is she trying to manipulate me? Was she angry? Pleased with herself?
She did get what she wanted. But she just asked, directly. No games. Not really the move of a master manipulator.
I don’t remember the last time I went to a restaurant and just sat and ate. I can’t remember the last time I canceled a press op. Shit, no idea when the last time I sat and talked to someone over a normal dinner was.
Irritated Ever After.
I’m going to be stuck with this woman.
My clothes tighten on my irritated skin, strangling me further.
No, wait.
Steady, shithead. Cool. Calm.
I will just talk to my father and confirm this isn’t really forever. Surely a few years from now, we’ll be able to divorce. We’ll have all we need from the Delgados by then. She’ll be free to remarry.
I won’t be sleeping with her. I’m not going to be swayed off task by a perfect pair of sparkling eyes or curves I could take a bite out of. I can find plenty of those.
So there absolutely won’t be any children to worry about.
Just a few years.
She might be a slippery little enigma, but I’m granite.
Solid, sure, cold as hell, set in my path and not fucking moving or changing or giving an inch.
