Chapter Ten #2
After our mains, Kingi asks what I’d like for dessert.
I declare that I’m full, so he suggests the four of us share a plate of desserts, and I can have as little or as much as I’d like.
I insist I couldn’t eat another bite, but when it arrives, it’s impossible not to nibble on the hokey pokey crème br?lée with almond biscotti, the manuka honey panna cotta with poached tamarillo.
, and the Valrhona chocolate fondant with salted caramel ice cream.
Afterward, Kingi talks me and Scarlett into having an Irish coffee, and we sip from our glasses and give ourselves cream mustaches while the guys entertain us with stories about their schooldays together.
The ambience, the food, and the company are all delightful.
I thought I’d be far too nervous to have a good time, but I’m surprised to discover I’m really enjoying myself.
The two of them have known one another a long time now, and of course they work together too, so it’s no surprise they’re at ease in each other’s company, like a double act, bouncing off each other and easily able to make Scarlett and me laugh.
We’re close to finish off our coffee when Scarlett says, “Oh, I’ve had a brainwave! We should have a double engagement announcement!”
Orson grins. “That’s a great idea.” He smiles at me. “It would take some of the focus off both of you that way.”
“I’d love that,” I say with relief. “I admit the thought of being the center of attention terrifies me.” I look at Kingi. “What do you think?”
“Sounds fun,” he says. Then he says to Orson and Scarlett, “Are you sure it’s not…” He hesitates.
“What?” Orson asks.
“I dunno,” Kingi says softly. “Your engagement is real. I wouldn’t want you to feel that we’re making a mockery of your commitment.”
Orson looks amused. “Are you getting soft in your old age?”
“No… well, maybe.” Kingi shrugs. “Obviously I didn’t know you were going to propose yesterday, and I guess your sincerity shines a light on our…” He looks at me, pained.
“Deception?” I reply. “Hoax? Scam? Wicked and fraudulent fake?”
His lips curve up. “Yeah, I guess that sums it up.”
“Well, I don’t care,” Orson states. “Scarlett?”
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I did,” she replies. “Guys, it’s not like you’re doing it to con someone out of money or something, and it’s not going to hurt anyone else.”
“I don’t think faking a relationship is what the board had in mind,” Kingi mumbles.
She frowns. “Maybe not, but you know you’ll do a great job, right?
If it’s all about appearance for the press, surely it doesn’t matter whether it’s real or fake?
What does matter is that the kids have the right person at the helm, someone who’s going to show them what they can achieve if they’re determined and work hard. ”
“I agree,” I say.
“All right.” Kingi gives a wry smile. “I give in.”
“Actually,” Scarlett says, “I’ve had another genius idea. Why don’t we announce our engagements at the ball next weekend?”
“Ball?” my eyes bulge. Kingi had mentioned it, but I hadn’t realized it was so soon.
“Yeah,” Scarlett says, “there’s going to be a charity ball at Midnight.”
“It does make sense to announce then, while everyone’s there,” Orson adds.
“Ball?” I say again, my heart hammering. “At Midnight? Oh my God.”
Scarlett giggles. “Don’t worry, I’d be there with you. And it would save you having to go to two events.”
“That is a very good point.” I look at Kingi.
He shrugs. “Sounds like a good idea.” He pushes his chair back. “Well, today’s my treat as you two are also celebrating an engagement.”
He rises and goes over to the till. I watch him walk away, not surprised to see that he draws the eyes of most of the women in the room as he passes them.
He’s so tall and he has such broad shoulders, and there’s just something about the way he holds himself that screams wealth and power and confidence.
I give a little sigh, then look back at Orson and Scarlett to discover them both watching me with mischievous smiles.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Scarlett says, but her eyes twinkle.
“I was just… um…”
“Admiring the view?” she asks.
Heat rushes into my face, and I know I’ve turned the color of a tomato.
Kingi comes back to the table, looks at me, and his eyebrows rise. “Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yes of course.” I clear my throat and get to my feet as the other two rise. “Thank you for the meal. It was amazing.”
“You’re very welcome.”
As we head toward the door, someone opens it to come in, and a blast of cool evening air wafts over us. “Ooh,” I say, shivering, “I knew I should have brought a coat.”
“Here.” Kingi slips his jacket off.
“Oh you don’t have to do that…”
He places it around my shoulders and turns the collar up. “Not a problem at all.”
I glance at Scarlett, who catches my eye, and I have to fight not to blush again. “Thank you,” I mumble, pulling the two sides close around me. Mmm, it smells of his cologne. It’s almost like having his arms around me.
We go out of the restaurant into the cool evening and walk past the queue, then stop in the middle of the paved courtyard. “I’ve called an Uber,” Orson says. “He’s coming that way.” He points the opposite direction to where Kingi parked.
“Okay, well thanks for a great evening,” Kingi says, and the two of them exchange a bearhug.
Scarlett and I also hug, and then Orson kisses my cheek. “It was a great evening,” he says, and the two of them smile and head off to their Uber.
I go to walk off, but Kingi doesn’t move, so I turn to face him. “Everything okay?” I ask, wondering whether he’s left something in the restaurant.
“Yeah.” He has a mischievous look on his face. “Don’t look over, but the guy under the oak tree? He’s a photographer for Kōrero.”
My jaw drops. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. He caught us going in. I thought it best not to mention it at the time.”
“Yeah, I’m glad you didn’t.”
“I was thinking…” He’s trying not to laugh. “I wonder whether we should put on a show for him.”
I blink. “A show?”
“Yeah.”
“You want me to sing and dance?”
“Not quite.” He takes my hands in his and moves a few inches closer. “You remember that clause in the contract?”
“The one… um… about property?”
“Nope.”
“The one about confidentiality?”
“No…”
I swallow hard. “Oh…”
“Yes, Francesca, my darling fiancée. I think it’s about time we had our first kiss. Only it mustn’t seem like our first kiss, of course.”
“I… oh… um…”
“Displays of affection should be natural but appropriate, remember? You signed the contract.”
“Did Tane put in a clause about no tongues?”
He chuckles. “He didn’t get around to it.”
“Oh my God.”
He tries not to laugh. “Are you ready?”
“I need to prepare myself.”
“In what way? Are you worried about the angles or something? You need a protractor?”
“I mean mentally,” I say, exasperated. I’m trembling a little. “Are you sure we should do this? I thought people didn’t like public displays of affection.”
“They do if you’re famous. They lap it up. And they enjoy seeing people in love. It makes them feel good. So the more besotted you look, the better.” He grins.
“You’re enjoying this far too much.”
He chuckles. “Just pretend I’m Tamati.”
“You don’t want that.”
“Why not?”
“You want me to slap you?”
He laughs. “Pretend I’m Tamati before you broke up, is what I meant.”
I frown. “In what way?”
He cocks his head at me. “You were in love with him, weren’t you?”
“Um…” I think about it. “It’s hard to remember what I felt like when we first met. I found him attractive. But by the end all I felt was irritation.”
“How romantic.”
I just shrug. Then I say, “Have you ever been in love?”
He snorts. “No.”
“Then how do you know how to act?”
“I’ve seen plenty of rom-coms. You know, looking into her eyes, all that shit.”
That makes us both laugh.
He moves a little closer to me, and my pulse immediately starts to pound at the thought of him pressing his lips to mine.
“Chess,” he murmurs, “you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, and I’m the luckiest man on earth to be marrying you.”
“Nobody’s listening,” I berate, my cheeks flaming. “You can just get on with it.”
“I’m warming up.”
“My face is warm enough for the two of us.”
He observes my flushed face with interest. “Why are you blushing?”
“Because you’re going to kiss me!”
“It’s just me,” he points out.
I don’t know what to say to that. He thinks of me as a friend. We’re just two friends, having a bit of fun. There’s nothing romantic in this for him. Nothing sexual. He’s not turned on by it. He’s not attracted to me.
It’s as if he’s thrown a bucket of cold water over me, and I stiffen.
It’s a game. He said that we should put on a show for the photographer.
All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players, right, Shakespeare?
This is all about getting him the CEO job at the Foundation, nothing more.
I force a smile onto my face. This is for the benefit of the photographer, and also for anyone else who might be watching; in fact, I think Sabrina is still at her table. It’ll be fun to put on a performance for her.
“Let’s do it,” I say, feeling a surge of rebelliousness as I remember how she sneered at me. I move closer to him and rest my hands on his chest. It’s not just about us pressing our lips together. It’s about convincing the crowd that we’re in love. “Hello, gorgeous,” I say, lifting my face.
He chuckles. “Hello, beautiful.”
“You have amazing eyes,” I say sincerely. They’re the color of amber, with dark brown flecks. I wonder what treasures they hold captive within them?
“So do you.” He studies them with interest. “They’re a really bright green. You’re not wearing lenses?”
“No.”
“They’re stunning.”
“Thank you.”
He slides his arms around me. “You’re so tiny.”
“I’m five four.”
“That’s a foot shorter than me!”
“Do you want me to get a box?”
He laughs. “That won’t be necessary.” He bends, and before I can react, he picks me up as if I weigh little more than a cushion and wraps my legs around his waist the way Ryan Gosling did with Rachel McAdams at the MTV Movie Awards. A cheer rises around us, and everyone turns to look.
I squeal, then laugh, despite the fact that my face is now burning. “Kingi!”
“That’s better,” he murmurs. Our faces are now level, and his lips are only an inch from mine.
I go to turn my head to see who’s watching, but he says, “Don’t look at them. Look at me.”
I focus on his face, my lips curving up. “Well, someone’s feeling bossy.”
“That’s my bedroom voice.”
“You have a bedroom voice?”
“I do.” He speaks firmly and lifts an eyebrow.
“Ooh,” I say with genuine interest.
His gaze slides to my lips. “You like that idea?”
“I do. It’s very sexy.” I moisten my lips with the tip of my tongue.
He studies them for a moment, and then his gaze comes back to mine. This time, there’s a touch of heat in it. “Do you like your men dominant in bed?” he murmurs.
“Depends. Do you like your women submissive? Because I’m not submissive.”
“No?”
I give a little shake of my head. “I won’t come quietly.”
He exhales, his breath whispering across my lips. “But you will come.” It’s a statement, not a question.
My breath hitches at his double meaning. At the thought of letting this man pleasure me. Of having him give me an orgasm with his fingers, with his tongue.
Someone whistles, and all of a sudden I’m conscious of the crowd and the photographer. “Are we still acting?” I ask, my heart racing.
He blinks. “Of course.”
“Good.” I need to get this over with so I can escape with my marbles intact.
Most of my marbles, anyway.
I take his face in my hands and touch my nose to his gently in a hongi. Our breaths mingle, exchanging the hā, or breath of life. He shivers, which surprises me. Maybe he’s not as unaffected as I thought. It warms me through, and I tilt my head a little to the side and lower my mouth to his.
His lips are warm and firm, and a tingle goes through me from the nape of my neck all the way down my spine.
I slide my hands into his long, thick hair, and he murmurs something, I’m not sure what, but we exchange a long, luscious embrace that most definitely does not require any acting on my part.
I enjoy every second of it—of the electric sensation of his lips touching mine, the smell of his cologne, and the feel of his arms tight around me, easily holding me against his chest.
He doesn’t use his tongue, though. And by the end, I’m very disappointed with that.
When I finally lift my head, the crowd cheers again, and we both laugh as we look over. He’d turned a little, I realize, so we’re side on to the photographer; no doubt he got an excellent shot.
Kingi lowers my legs until my feet touch the floor. I glance at the window of the restaurant and catch a brief glance of Sabrina’s pale face, her mouth open as she watches us. And then Kingi takes my hand and leads me away.
“Do you think that worked?” I ask. My voice comes out as a squeak.
He clears his throat. “I think it did the job.”
“That’s great. Do you think it will be in Kōrero tomorrow?”
“Almost certainly. I need to call the board and tell them about our arrangement. They might want to meet you. Would you be up for that?”
“Of course,” I say sincerely. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” He glances at me, and there’s something strange in his eyes, but he looks away before I can fathom it out.
We don’t speak again on the way back to the car. My heart is still racing though.
I have six months of this. Of being by his side. Of pretending to belong to him. Of kissing him.
But only in public, of course.
It’s only for show.