Chapter 32 – cat #2
Even as I’m scowling at him, Nate looks completely calm. His eyes don’t leave mine. “I wanted to take you away from the bad press and let you have something you dreamed of. Why does that make you so angry?”
“Because it’s wasteful!” I sputter. “If you wanted to take me to Paris, we could have flown commercial and done an apartment swap. I didn’t need the private jet and the luxury hotel.
I didn’t need this whole restaurant! With all the money you spent on me, you could probably open a brand-new shelter, never mind just keeping mine running.
There are people who need your money, and I’m not one of them, Nate!
I don’t need…” I wave a hand around. “All this. I just want you.”
And there it is. Cards on the table.
His gray eyes search mine, looking for the truth in them like he wants to verify my words against the original ledger. “You do?”
I heave a sigh. “God, of course I do.”
And I know everything else I said was pretty unreasonable. Nate donates plenty to charity—I’ve seen the tax receipts myself. But still…this is just…
I’ve never had anyone who would do something like this for me and…
My chest aches.
“I know you don’t need my money,” he says. “I did this because I wanted to.”
Something about the way he says it, so flippantly, sets me off again, and even though I’m trying to rein it, I can’t. Not completely.
There’s a part of me that wants to push him away—that needs to—before it’s too late.
“How much did this meal cost?” I shoot back, the turbulence in my chest keeping me off balance. I should stop this before it goes too far. Before he ingrains himself so thoroughly in my heart that when he inevitably leaves me, the loss of him shatters it.
He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter what it cost.”
“It does. I need to know how many hungry people you could feed for the cost of this meal.”
Stop, Cat. Stop.
“You’re overthinking this. You eating this meal doesn’t take it away from anyone else.”
I clench my fists beneath the table, try to shut up, but I can’t.
“It’s easy for you to say that when you’ve never really been hungry in your life,” I snap.
He thinks about that quietly for a moment and then nods. “You’re right. I’ve never wanted for anything, and I’m used to the best. That’s why I enjoy sharing it with you.”
I gape at him, not quite sure what to say. Now that he’s admitted I’m right, I’m starting to forget what we were arguing about in the first place.
“I can afford to help more charities,” he continues.
“After I funded your shelter, someone got me thinking about all the places I could be helping, right in our own city. UPS has had standing donations to museums and foundations for years, but we’re not doing enough directly for the people.
I’ve been mulling over the idea of starting my own charitable foundation, so I can make sure I’m directing the resources to the right places.
I might need some guidance, but I’m sure I can find someone to help. ”
“You’re just saying that so I’ll sit down and eat my dinner quietly,” I say, but the fight’s gone out of my words and I know it.
He arches his brows. “Do you think I’m the kind of man who says what you want to hear?”
“No,” I admit. “You’re the type to just grunt and not say anything.”
He reaches out his hand, and when I take it, he pulls me right off my chair and into his lap. He takes my face in his hand, making me meet his eyes, and I’m powerless to pull away, held hostage in the winter sea I find there.
“I mean it, Kitten. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I’m not good at thinking about what other people need, not like you are. If I’m not donating enough money to the right places, I should hire someone who can.”
Technically, he’s not offering to hire me, but he just described my dream job. A chance to find the best way to funnel money to people in need. People like my dad who might’ve had a better shot with the right resources available to him.
My mind fills with what I’d love to do. Create transitional housing to help people find homes, expand the shelter’s career services, better addictions counseling, maybe even lobby the city to expand its resources for unhoused people with disabilities…
“You’re worth every penny I spent to bring you here. Seeing your face when we saw the Eiffel Tower—I can’t tell you how happy it made me. You’re right—I’ve never wanted for anything. It makes it feel that much better when I can share some of it with you.”
What remains of the fight in me slips out of my grasp at the sincerity in his expression. “Thank you,” I murmur even though it still feels strange to accept such an extravagant trip.
Nate weaves his fingers with mine and I feel him engraving his name in the places where I won’t so easily be able to remove it, but I can’t seem to stop him.
“You deserve this, Kitten,” he says gently, and I lean into him. “You deserve for someone to spoil you and buy you croissants and worship you.”
I swallow past the ache in my throat, blinking away the sting in my eyes.
Nate watches my face carefully. “Don’t you think you deserve it, Kitten?”
I look down at my hands, folded in my lap. “I don’t know. I guess I just…don’t feel worthy of it. I don’t know why.”
When I dare to look back at him, there’s understanding in his eyes. He picks up a small tart. My mouth waters just looking at it. He holds it up to my mouth.
“Please eat, Kitten.”
“Nate, I–”
“How about a negotiation, then?”
I lift a brow.
“Funding for your shelter for the next five years, and my promise to you that I will immediately begin looking into starting our very own foundation to be able to direct our charitable donations where they’re most needed.”
My heart flutters in my chest.
“All you have to do…is let me spoil you.”
His hand at my waist squeezes and my thighs press together.
“You won’t get better terms than that.”
“Want to bet?”
He chuckles. “Kitten, I’d give you the fucking moon if I could pluck it from the sky. But you’d have to let yourself enjoy its glow.”
I lick my lips and look down at the mouthwatering tart that smells like sweet onion and absolute perfection.
“Open for me, Kitten.”
I do.
Nate feeds me a bite and flavor explodes on my tongue. I can barely take in how orgasmically delicious it is—sweet, rich, and complex, every taste blending perfectly together. When my tongue darts out to catch a flake of pastry on my lip, Nate watches it through hooded eyes.
“It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever tasted,” I whisper.
He smiles. “Was that so hard?”
The door opens again, reminding me that we’re not alone. I practically leap off Nate’s lap and back into my seat as the chef enters with our second course, a frothy asparagus soup with crusty pieces of baguette to dip in it.
Nate chuckles once the chef is gone. “That embarrassed to be seen in my lap, Kitten?”
I duck my head. “Not embarrassed, just…don’t want to make you look bad.”
“You could never do that.” He puts his hand on my thigh and warmth spreads through my skin. He edges his chair next to mine, so close that our feet intertwine. When he offers me a piece of bread dipped in silky, creamy soup, I open my mouth and let him spoil me.