Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Katarina
We pull up to Grandmont, and I give myself two seconds to stare.
I’ve been in palaces that shine less than Win’s estate.
It’s the fact that it has clearly been renovated. Every stone polished to perfection, every tree, shrub, and window perfectly lit despite the deep dark of the midnight sky.
And then there is the elegance. It’s neither too much nor to little. It’s just right.
“Nice digs,” I say with a smirk, intentionally using slang. If I had gum, I’d blow a bubble right now and then let it pop.
I know I’m being a brat, goading Win, but it’s just…so much fun.
His face when I called him an ogre was priceless.
And besides, he holds way too much power in our relationship. Making him think I don’t like him will shift some of it back my way.
Which is easy.
Because I don’t like him. He’s arrogant, surly, and attempting to be my newest jailer.
I’ve met a lot of handsome men, looks do little to sway me. Win is hard and uncompromising. I’d add unfeeling, except, I’m very clearly getting under his skin, so perhaps there is a bit of emotion there after all.
“Thank you,” he responds, his glare firmly in place. “It’s cozy, but it’s home.”
Did he just make a joke?
I find myself smiling, despite my better judgment, and my newfound plan is set to irritate. “I bet the ballroom is…intimate. Much smaller than Triston’s.”
“You’ve seen Triston’s house?”
I was supposed to have my reception there. But as Win has introduced me to Ken as a family friend and not as his almost sister-in-law, I’m assuming we’re not discussing my connection to the family. He didn’t give my full name or even my actual given name.
No one calls me Kat.
I briefly consider letting the “cat” out of the bag, but I decide against it. Much as I like goading him, I’m guessing he’s got solid reasons for keeping my identity shrouded. Whether those reasons are to my advantage or not, I don’t know.
So, at least for now, I’ll follow his lead. “Once. Yes.”
The car pulls to a stop, Ken remaining seated as Win climbs out of the car. “Dukes exit first,” Ken whispers to me in this smug voice, that tells me he thinks I don’t know.
I’m aware of royal rules. I might be the daughter of a glorified gangster, but he’s kept me alive for a reason.
I’ve been groomed to marry a man like Win.
It’s why all the scars have been confined to my torso. In a dress, I’m flawless.
To be clear, my father doesn’t dream of me marrying a man of title for my benefit. It’s for his. He wants the validation of joining his family to royalty, as if that would mean he belonged. As if it would increase his own significance.
I’ve never understood why he thinks like that. For me, it’s about what you do, not about who you know.
I step out of the car, Win standing next to the open door.
I try to bypass him, so that I can get my suitcase, but his hand shoots out, his palm pressing to my stomach. “Allow me to escort you inside.”
I look down at his hand, then back up at him. “We’ve talked about how a gentleman behaves.”
I swear I see amusement sparkle in his eyes. He doesn’t remove his hand, but he does hold out his elbow.
I still don’t take it. “My suitcase?”
“Will be brought straight to your room by one of the footmen.”
I slip my hand into his arm, giving a stray glance at the trunk of the car.
Win slowly removes his hand from my stomach and then starts leading me inside.
“Your Grace,” Ken calls as he falls in step behind us. “Any instructions for Kat’s dress?”
Win stops, looking me up and down. “Red. Fitted. Off the shoulder. Full length.”
My brows lift. Those were some specific instructions. “Do I get to choose your outfit too?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Did you go with Isaia for your designer rather than Armani?”
He stops. “How did you know that?”
I only smile. “The cut of an Isaia tuxedo suits you.”
He starts walking again, but he’s quiet as he leads me inside.
Ken does not follow, and I’m left with Win as he steers me toward an intimate dining room. “What’s this?”
“We’ve yet to have dinner,” he says as he pulls out a chair for me. “You must be famished.”
I take the offered chair. I am hungry. I had a small bit of breakfast and nothing since.
He takes a seat at the head of the table and, moments later, wine arrives.
It’s pale in color and sparkles in the chandelier light.
I wait for Win to take a sip and then I follow, noting the crisp notes of pear in the sauvignon blanc.
Moments later a fish stew arrives.
The smell is perfection. Win takes a bite and I follow.
Silence falls between us, as I wonder if he intends for me to dine with him regularly. It feels…intimate. But I don’t ask as I enjoy the soup.
There is one benefit of being the captive of a duke, the food is bound to be good.
The first course is soon swept away to make way for another. Roasted lamb.
I cut one bite, chewing slowly, as the meat melts on my tongue. I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying the succulent flavor.
These are the sorts of dishes that are difficult to find in America. “You like it.”
“It’s delicious.”
He nods. “One of my favorites.”
I slowly cut another bite, as I consider my host. It’s none of my business, but I can’t help wondering how a bride fits into this life of dinners at midnight and jetting off to America on a private jet.
Then again, dukes likely do as they please. “Do you have any ladies you hope to pay special attention to tomorrow night?”
He takes another bite of his lamb, glaring at me over his fork. “Why?”
“I am curious,” I reply honestly.
“Why?”
We’re playing that game again. “You don’t seem like the marrying type.”
“That is none of your business.” He gives me that cold stare he’s perfected. “Though I will add, my type has almost nothing to do with it. Dukes marry.”
“Fair enough,” I murmur.
“I’d ask what type you consider yourself, but we both know how this day started.” He gives me a pointed stare.
Which I ignore. “There is a difference between not wishing to marry one particular person and not wishing to marry," I say, my chin notching.
"True. But you don’t strike me as the marrying kind either.”
“I’ve never considered it one way or the other,” I shrug. “It was expected that I marry, but…” I stop myself. I am here for one purpose, what happens after that is as dark as the sky at midnight during a storm. I don’t even think about it.
“You’re not sure you wish to do so?”
“I’m not sure I’ll have time,” I say by way of explanation. It’s the truth, in so much as I understand. “But let’s speak of more pleasant things. Tomorrow night. Is the event here?”
“Yes,” Win answers.
“What are you serving?”
He sighs, like I’m boring him to tears. “It doesn’t matter. You will attend and then I want the promised information. While you are there, I expect you to be on your best behavior.”
“Have I been anything but?”
“You stowed away in my plane. You openly insulted me in front of my employee. You’re churlish and frequently disrespectful.”
“I thought we were just having fun.” I gave him an impish smile, enjoying his admission.
He scowls back. His favorite expression. “I need to find the right bride and I can’t have you frightening the ladies off.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, you’ll do that all on your own.”
He scoffs, jabbing his fork into his lamb. “You make me sound like a beast.”
“Ogre. And I will be an angel. I’m only attending because I would not wish to miss the show.” And because I want to learn a bit more about my host. I need to know if he’s a man with the grit to take out my father. And this is the perfect opportunity to see him in a crowd.
Does he own it? Do men look up to him?
I’ve got some decisions to make, and I need more information to make them.
Tomorrow night, I’m going to learn everything I can about Lord Winston Smith.