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Or maybe I was getting the nature of the surprises women loved all wrong.
The momentary flash of terror in her eyes when she realized she wasn’t alone fed parts of my soul I would rather not acknowledge.
“Loïc!” She pressed a hand to her chest as though it might help slow her heartbeat. I would definitely need to stop surprising her like this.
She leaned down to grab something off the floor and flung it at me. I deflected the shoe, laughing.
“Miss me?”
“Miss you? I would have hit you if you hadn’t blocked.”
“Hellion.” If not for the reflexes I’d developed over the years, I would have caught that ballet flat in the face. I’d have to remember not to scare her when she was wearing heels.
“What are you doing here?”
“Feeding my woman. When I’m not around you eat cereal and popcorn most of the time. When you stop to eat at all, that is.”
“I’m not your woman!” she said with affectionate exasperation rather than real admonishment. It was progress, and I would take it. I had the next seventy years or so to wear her down.
She removed her other shoe and sat at the table, looking like she’d had a rough day, even though her hair and makeup were impeccable. Her expression was absolutely dour.
I moved into the kitchenette and handed her a plate. When she only sat there with the plate in her hand, I took it back and piled it with a selection of things from the packages I’d brought with me, then set it in front of her. When even that didn’t work, I put a fork in her hand, propped my hands on my hips, and gave her an expectant look.
“Are you the eating police now?”
“Don’t make me buy a uniform. Do you enjoy handcuffs?”
She scowled at me.
“Eat, woman.”
She stabbed the first morsel with unnecessary force and put it in her mouth as though she was humoring me, but then her shoulders slumped and she sighed with pleasure as she chewed the first mouthful. I grabbed her a drink and set it beside her plate, then sat on the other side of the small booth from her.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She gestured with her fork. “Men.”
Hopefully, I wasn’t the one who’d pissed her off, although she was sexy when she was angry. Then again, when wasn’t she sexy?
“All of us in general, or someone specific?”
“Some jerkface model. They hired him to play a very temporary villain in the next few episodes. The guy hardly had any lines.”
“Do you want me to kill him?”
She arched a brow at me as though considering it. “You’d have to find him first. The fucker accepted a modeling gig that conflicted, so he blew offRose Red. It took half the day for Mina to track him down and find that out. Now, they’re trying to fill the role with someone else at the last minute.”
“Frustrating.”
“The new guy they brought in from the modeling agency looks like he’s about twelve. He’s a nice kid, but he’s not the right vibe for the character, and I’m having trouble selling that I’m concerned about him doing real damage to me.”
“You’re an excellent actor, but they have to give you someone you can work with.”
“Exactly!”
She toyed with her food. Maybe this wasn’t the right topic of conversation if I wanted to get her to eat. Was she thinner or was it my imagination? It looked like she might blow away if they used the wind machine on her today.
“Maybe they’ll find someone more appropriate. I really hope we don’t have to make it work with Filip. He’s friendly, but not only is he young, his acting skills are nonexistent.” She leaned back and put down her fork as though she was full after having only eaten a few bites.
