Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Lena
How the hell do I climb on the back of this motorcycle in this dress without flashing every student on the quad?
“You’re going to freeze in that.” Ariki gives me a once-over. “You look beautiful, but that dress is thin and we have a windy ride through the forest.”
“I wasn’t exactly informed about our mode of transportation.” Glancing nervously at Ariki’s bike, I say, “Let me grab a jacket and change my shoes.”
“No time. Kian will flip if we’re late to dinner.
” Ariki unzips his leather jacket. “It starts promptly at seven.” He purses his lips and pops his hip in what I assume is a mocking jibe at Kian before draping his jacket over my shoulders.
“Here, this should keep the chill at bay. Now, climb on! I’ve been dreaming of getting Curtis between your legs. ” He flashes me an excited grin.
“You better be talking about the bike,” I purr.
Something about Ariki just makes me feel lighter.
I want to roll around in his playful happiness and soak it up through my skin.
My worries about getting on the bike dissipate.
Fuck it, these people would be lucky to see my cooch…
again. I climb on and wrap my arms around Ariki’s waist.
Ariki laughs. “Curtis is the bike, after his make. My dick’s name is Albert.” He winks at me over his shoulder.
“Ah, after the piercing?” I confirm with a nod, while picturing his crown decorated with titanium jewelry.
“No, for Nathan Lane in The Birdcage.” He scoffs as we peel away through campus.
I spend the short ride tucked into Ariki’s muscular back, basking in the feel of his warmth. Having my legs wrapped around his thick thighs will give me plenty of material for a little late-night menage a moi.
We stop at a gate with a biometric lock requiring Ariki’s thumbprint and then drive up a long winding driveway.
Nestled between the trees is a modern home.
Its sleek, minimalist lines are crafted from a harmonious mix of glass, steel, stone, and wood.
It somehow both contrasts and complements the verdant surroundings.
Ariki parks the bike in front of a large stone staircase leading to the entryway.
“I usually park in the garage, but he’s going to want you to come through the front door. Something about etiquette and all that,” Ariki mumbles, as we remove our helmets.
I get my first unobstructed view of the house.
I usually think modern homes can be quite cold, but Kian’s has an inviting facade with large floor-to-ceiling windows and sections of rough-hewn stone that echo the colors of the landscape.
I follow Ariki into a large welcoming open foyer.
Petra descending a floating wood staircase with a tablet in hand and a scowl on her face, on the other hand, isn’t at all inviting.
“Hey, P. How you doing?” Ariki gives her a shining smile, and I feel oddly annoyed that he gifts her his attention.
She brushes him off with a standard “Fine.” How anyone can resist his charms, I can’t understand.
“Follow me. Everyone’s already in the dining room.
” As she leads us through the house, I’m awestruck by the elegant simplicity of the interior design, the abundance of natural light, and the unobstructed views of the towering trees outside.
“I’m glad I ran into you, Petra,” I joke. “Any update on my things from Portland? It’s really only two duffle bags and some records. They should be relatively easily shipped.”
“Sadly, no updates yet. Should be any day now.” That’s what she said last week.
She stops before substantial oak doors, pushing them open, revealing a large room with high ceilings and a back wall completely made of glass, overlooking a lake.
Seated at a sizable rectangular stone table is, of course, Komarov, Boden, Callum, and at the head Kian. They weirdly all stand as we enter.
“Miss Solis, join us, please.” Kian gestures to the empty chair on his left.
What else was I going to do? Run away? Petra quickly makes herself scarce.
I send up a little prayer of thanks when I realize Callum’s seated on my other side and an imaginary middle finger when I notice Komarov’s seated directly across from me.
I lean over and give the former a bright hello.
“Thank you for having me, sir.” I smile at Kian as I take my seat.
“When I received your invitation, I couldn’t resist,” I tease since everyone here knows that my presence at this dinner was very much involuntary.
“Also, please call me Lena. Miss Solis was my mother.” When no one even cracks a smile, I add dryly, “Joking. Obviously we don’t know who my mother was. ”
Ariki chuckles lightly at that, while Boden sends him what can only be described as a warning glare.
“Lena, you’re very welcome.” Kian gives me a tight smile, “We”—he gestures to the princes—“have a biweekly dinner, primarily to catch up and sometimes to conduct business. For the time being, you will attend to improve your etiquette. Nik and I believe it could be useful for you to learn more about the kingdoms.”
“Oh, that’s very kind of you.” Lie. I would rather be trapped in an elevator with an amateur improv troupe. “But I don’t want to intrude on royal business.” Truth, please don’t make me intrude.
“A little late for that,” Boden whispers to Komarov under his breath.
“It’s no trouble at all,” Kian says, ignoring Boden. “We won’t be discussing anything sensitive during these dinners.”
“Lucky me,” I say cheerfully. “So what’s on the lesson plan for today?
” Kian turns to Callum, who then proceeds to instruct me on the uses and order for the variety of glasses, dishes, and utensils before me.
I learn that this setting style, which I recognize from my years bartending at events, is French.
Since I ate my meals in the kitchen, I never received any practice utilizing it.
As soon as Cal finishes their spiel, a server brings out an apéritif of two raw oysters and a mignonette served alongside a Kir Royale.
Which the foodie in me greatly appreciates.
“We usually just have a simple wine pairing, but I asked the chef to be creative with the drinks tonight in your honor.” Kian’s smile is surprisingly genuine as he gazes over his flute glass.
“That’s kind of you. I love a Kir Royale.” I take a sip. “Any champagne cocktail, honestly.”
“Well, good taste in liquor is one thing I am glad we don’t have to teach.” He smirks before quickly ruining the compliment. “Your sense of what constitutes appropriate cocktail attire is another thing.” His nose scrunches with disdain as he studies my outfit.
I sigh, because here we go again. “At risk of sounding like a broken record, this is not of my own volition. If you have a problem with my clothing, take it up with your assistant”—I shoot Boden a glare—“and your girlfriend.”
Kian’s face scrunches in confusion.
“While I’m thankful for your kindness in having Katri obtain clothing for me, she didn’t really bring me many appropriate options.
And I suppose there’s a holdup in acquiring my things from Portland.
So until they arrive, I’m stuck dressing like my favorite pastime is sucking down butterscotch candies while watching Wheel of Fortune. ”
We sit in awkward silence for one long moment before they all burst out laughing.
“Oh, that makes so much more sense!” Callum says, between bouts of crystal bright laughter. “Explains all the neon.”
“And the ill-fitting garments.” Komarov smiles and motions for the server to bring him another drink. “Katri’s been fucking with you.” He turns to Kian, who’s smiling but also somehow looking mildly irritated. “Didn’t you give her like five grand to shop with?”
“I did. I suppose I’ll have to check in on that.” He shrugs like someone keeping five thousand dollars is like forgetting to return change for a ten-dollar bill. “We will see about your things before our next dinner.”
“I suppose this gives us enough reason to have the dress code violations removed from your record.” Komarov, who’s finally composed himself, begins to chuckle again.
“I’d appreciate that,” I huff, though I’m glad he’s finally being useful. “I didn’t realize that to get you all to laugh all I had to do was share how Katri makes my life miserable,” I deadpan. “Y’all are a tough crowd.”
The rest of the seven-course dinner goes relatively smoothly.
Every now and then Callum gives me instructions, like why in a French dinner the salad is served after the main course.
Around course three, Komarov mentions he’s looking forward to helping me foster my connection to my magic.
In the next breath, he chastises me for accessing it at Boden’s detriment.
Boden continues to throw sneers and jibes my way—I mostly ignore him.
Komarov and Kian seem almost normal-ish, they spend the rest of the dinner chatting about the implications of some new Devorare policy that the queen, Komarov’s mother, enacted.
And Ariki, lovely sweet Ariki, keeps the room from turning awkward with his anecdotes on pack life and stories about his wild youth.
At the end of the evening, while Ariki discusses something with Komarov and Callum outside, Kian walks me to the door.
“You did well tonight. Next lesson, we will move beyond table manners.”
“Goody,” I reply in the driest tone I can muster.
“Why didn’t you come to me about the vandalism or clothing issue?” he asks, as he adjusts his cuff links.
“I tried, on multiple occasions. You have a tendency to interrupt me.”
“I suppose even I need to improve my etiquette sometimes.” He gives me a slight smile. “You should come to me if things aren’t going well. I do much better at problem-solving when I know the truth, the whole story.”
I nod in acknowledgement, but I’m not entirely sure what he’s trying to say.
“Do you think you can start trusting me with your truth, Lena?”
I meet his eyes. “That depends. Will you start giving me a reason to trust you with it?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He opens the door for me before adding, “Don’t look so glum. The sun will come out tomorrow.”
“I used to think you were Daddy Warbucks in this metaphor, but now I’m starting to reconsider. You seem more like Miss Hannigan.” With a sultry smirk, I bat my eyelashes in an overtly flirty display.
“Oh please,” he chuckles. “With his drinking problem, Nik is definitely Miss Hannigan.”