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He types for another few minutes, and just when I don’t think he’ll answer me, he hits one last key, shuts the screen of his laptop, and turns to me, giving me his full and undivided attention, which is nothing short of unsettling from a man like him.
I set my drink down on the small tray at the end of our armrests and reach down for my bag, coming up with a red lip liner and not a pen, but whatever, it’ll work. I rip the cap off with my teeth and then set myself in a position to start writing on the white cocktail napkin.
He chuckles, a rare chuckle, and waves a hand, indicating I should go first, but stops me by tugging the liner from my grasp and recapping it. “We’re not writing them down, Georgia.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because something like that can be lost and very easily found.”
Fine. I yank the liner from his hand, toss it back into my Louis, and then take a sip of my drink, giving him the floor. “Age before beauty. You go first.”
He smirks. “Whatever we discuss, whatever you see stays private and entirely between us. You can’t tell your mom or your girlfriends anything about me. You know what I do.” His gaze pointedly slides to his closed laptop before returning to me. “But the world does not. I am a tattoo artist and nothing else. Understand?”
“Absolutely. I think you know I never would and that I never have. It sorta already goes without saying.” I hold out my pinkie, and he stares at it like he’s not sure what to do with it. “Would you rather we do a spit shake or I slice open my hand and make this a blood oath?”
“I’ve already tasted your spit today, but let’s get through the rest of this first before we decide on how to make it binding. What are your rules?”
I lick my lips, inching in closer to him, looking around at the other people in first class, but everyone has on their noise-canceling headphones and isn’t paying us any attention. “Whenever we’re in public, we hold hands or touch like we’re in love. This may not be real, but I want it to look real. That illusion is paramount for me.”
He bobs his head, which I take for his agreement and muster on.
“I haven’t said anything about this, and I haven’t asked because I’m already asking a lot, but…” I blow out a breath. “But do you think?—”
“I’m already looking into it, and you don’t have to worry. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
I crack a smile. “How do you know what I’m asking?”
“You’re easy to read,” he says simply, and I frown. I don’t like that idea. Not with him. Not with anyone. “Georgia, aside from the fact that you will be my wife, and that makes you my responsibility, you are also my best friends’ cousin. I will keep you safe, and part of that task is ensuring there are no threats to your safety.”
“You’re going to make me wet with talk like that.”
He chokes on nothing, glaring at me, and then steals my drink to wash it down.
“Hey! That’s mine.”
He finishes his sip and hands it back to me, and I take a sip of my own.
“For the record, I can keep myself safe. I am a blackbelt in jujitsu and karate, and while you might be twice my size and have more muscles than is street legal, I can handle my own. It was more that I wanted to know if there are any skeletons in my ex’s closet I should be aware of. I don’t need his nitty-gritty, and frankly, I don’t care, but I want to know if he’s doing anything that will hurt or impact me.”
He looks at me as if he can crush me like a tin can, but I do have a few cool tricks up my sleeve and don’t mind being underestimated because that’s always an advantage.
But then I sober and ask something I’m not sure I want the answer to since he got me thinking about it. “Do you think Ezra took down my father’s plane?” Other than me, Ezra is the one who stood to benefit the most.
“No clue right now. But I promise to tell you if I ever find out.”
I can live with that. “Okay. Your turn. Hit me with your next rule. I’ll call them the laws of Lenox.”
He plows past that as he shifts in his seat, but his gaze never wavers. “This is nonnegotiable for me as well.”
“Alright.” Gulp. “Spill it.” I curl my legs up on my seat, hanging over the large armrest that separates our seats.
“I’m possessive. It may not be real between us, but the marriage will be legal as well as real to the world. If you’re married to me, you’re not fucking anyone else.”
But…
“We’re not fucking.”
“That’s my condition. My law, as you put it.”
