Chapter 23
Cold wind blows into the foyer, carrying with it dried, dead leaves and Artem.
I’m about to make a joke about him bringing in the dead with him, but my brain short circuits at the sight of him.
He’s wearing a suit.
Not just any suit, but a black, tailored to fit every muscle of his body, suit.
Getting the suit jacket around his broad shoulders alone must have taken a miracle, but whatever little magical mice helped put together this outfit saved a little pixie dust for the rest of him. There’s even a shine to his shoes.
The little black slip dress I chose feels like a rag compared to him.
“You look beautiful,” he murmurs, taking my hands and pulling into him for a kiss.
“I look like a homeless beggar next to you.” I laugh, running my fingers over the soft lapels of his suit jacket. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen you in a suit.”
He’s a dress slacks and button-down sort of man, not a tie and jacket. But he makes it look good. Devastatingly good. I’m not sure I want to go out for dinner anymore.
He cups my chin, tipping my head back and kissing me before muttering, “We should go. If we stay, I’ll have you upstairs in bed instead of dinner.”
I laugh. “I’m okay with that.”
“No.” He shakes his head with a serious expression. “Tonight, we’re going out.”
“Okay, well, let me at least change. I have a nicer dress.”
He snags my elbow as I try to turn. “You’re perfect.”
My cheeks heat at the way he’s staring at me. Like he’d rather have me served up on a dish instead of whatever the kitchen will be serving at the restaurant.
“Maybe we should go,” I say, swallowing. My mouth is dry because all fluids have been redirected to my panties.
Seriously, there has to be a diagnosis to go along with my sort of crazy.
He takes the wrap from my hands and places it around my shoulders. “It’s cold tonight, you should be wearing a coat.”
“If it gets too chilly, we’ll just have to use our combined body heat to warm us up.”
Another low growl rumbles his chest. “Let’s go.”
The drive across town feels like it takes forever with all the red lights we hit. It’s almost as if the city is trying to keep us from getting to dinner.
I’m expecting him to take us to one of Kaz’s restaurants, so I’m surprised when he pulls up to the valet at Le Jardin Noir. It’s one of the most elite French restaurants in Chicago. People wait months to get a reservation.
“How did you get a reservation here?” I ask as he grabs his phone from the console and the valet rounds the car to his door.
He ignores my question and vacates the SUV. The valet climbs in, just as my door pops open and his hand is there to help me down.
There’s something different about him tonight. His gaze flickers over me, followed by a tense smile. Like his skin is trying to choke him.
It’s probably the damn tie.
Before I can suggest loosening it a little, we’re swept into the restaurant, and the tall brunette at the hostess stand greets us. She leads us to a private dining room on the second level of the restaurant that has a large viewing window looking down at the main lounge.
“Daniel will be your server for the evening and will be with your shortly.” The hostess then gestures to me. “I can take your wrap if you’d like.”
“That’s all right. I think I’ll keep it.”
She smiles then leaves, hurrying down the steps and back to her post.
“Artem.” I breathe, taking in the table in the center of the room. It’s been set for two with a single white candle burning in the middle of a centerpiece made of red and black roses.
“Sit.” He drags out a chair and gestures.
As I sink into the chair, he removes the wrap from my shoulders and drapes it over the back of my seat. Before he sits, he uncorks the bottle of wine sitting on the table and fills my glass, then his.
His neck muscles are so tight, I’m afraid they’re about to snap.
“Artem.” I reach across the table and touch his hand. “I’m sorry. For the way I acted today. It was childish to threaten to get my own apartment.”
His eyes warm. “You thought I was avoiding you since we’ve been home.”
“The thought popped in my head, yeah.”
He squeezes my hand. “You’re always waiting for proof that you don’t belong. At the first sign, even when it’s made up in your head, that you may not fit, you run.”
“Okay, you don’t need to do a whole rundown. I’m aware of my insecurities.” I try to pull my hand back, but he squeezes harder.
“No more running.”
My chest aches. Not just because he’s right, but because of how desperate I am to do exactly what he says. I’m tired of always being on alert for a reason to bolt. Better to take off than to face the truth of how unwanted I really am.
And it’s such bullshit.
“Your brothers love you. They would burn the whole world down for you. No matter how much you push them, they will always stand tall.”
Tears swim in my eyes. “I know that.”
He grunts. “Do you?”
“I do.” I nod, but he’s right. My brain knows it, but my heart is the one who can’t seem to get on board most of the time.
“Good.” He squeezes my hand once more then releases me, taking up his wine glass and gulping down half of it.
“Artem.” I wet my lips and lean forward. “What’s with the suit and this place? Are you trying to impress me or something?”
He frowns. “No.”
“Because this feels like something Alexander would do. An insanely nice restaurant, private dining room…the suit.”
His expression hardens, and I know I’m on the right track.
“Alexander suggested all this.” I shake my head. “He just can’t stay out of my business. Always having to butt his nose in and try to direct my life.”
Artem grabs my hand across the table and holds it firmly until I sigh and bring my gaze back to his. Immediately, I’m warm and calm. The man has more power over me with one simple look than dictators have over their obsessed people.
“You deserve to have this sort of life. Wanting for nothing.”
I laugh. “You think this is the sort of thing I want? And you said you’ve been paying attention to me for years.”
His brow raises, and for a second I think he’s going to argue with me but then he lets out a breath and nods slowly. “You’re right. This isn’t you.”
He grabs his tie, yanking it loose and pulling it from beneath his shirt collar. “And it’s not me.”
“What’s really going on?”
The waiter appears in the doorway, but Artem shoots him a look that warns of bodily harm if he comes any closer, and he backs out quietly. Now this is the Artem I know.
“Artem?”
He stands up, bumping the table as he does and making the silverware and crystal clatter. He digs through his pocket then rounds the table and slams a black velvet case in front of me. Again, making all the place settings dance.
I stare at it. My mouth goes dry. My eyes fill with tears. Whenever this man is around, my body goes haywire.
“Marry me.” He dictates, though his voice is low and raw.
When I look up at him, he glares down at me. I’ve ruined whatever his plan was for the evening, and he’s reverted right back to being the bossy, arrogant, mountain of a man.
The one I’ve fallen in love with.
“Is that supposed to be question? Because it’s usually a question.”
He shakes his head. “No. It was going to be. I was going to let you decide. But I changed my mind.”
“You changed your mind?” I laugh as a tear slips down my cheek.
He leans down, swiping the tear away and brings it to his mouth. My heart skids right into my ribs as he licks the moisture from his thumb. Is there anything this man can’t turn sexual?
“Open the box,” he says, but then he does it for me, presenting me with a heart-shaped black diamond set in the middle of a row of white diamonds on a silver band. Simplicity and elegance perfectly combined.
It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.
“By end of the year. But you can pick when and where.”
“What?” I raise my gaze from the sparkling ring.
“The wedding. You can decide when and where, but it has to be before the year ends.”
“First, I haven’t agreed. Second, that’s only like five weeks away.”
He plucks the ring from the box and grabs my hand, gently sliding it over my knuckle and settling it on my ring finger.
“Artem.”
“Are you saying no?” Not an ounce of worry in his tone. It appears once you take the man out of the facade of being a pure gentleman, his confidence comes roaring back.
“Of course I’m not,” I find myself saying as I rise from my chair in such a haste, I knock it backward, sending it clamoring to the floor.
“Good. Then I won’t need the rope I put in the car for just in case.” He flashes the sexiest grin I’ve ever seen from him, then grabs me, pulls me into him and kisses the life right out of me.
At least that’s what it feels like. The world could spin straight off its axis and fly into the sun, and I would not care. So long as Artem holds me like this.
He growls against my mouth, then pulls away just enough to press his forehead against mine.
“We need to go home.”
“What about dinner?” I tease.
“If we stay here, I’m going to throw you over the table and devour you. And I’m pretty sure it would get back to Alexander by the time we got to the car.”
“So this was all his idea.” I raise my brows at him, daring him to deny it.
“He said if he were to propose to Megan again, this is how he would do it.” He admits.
“Propose?” I laugh. “I’m not sure any of you know what that word means. He forced her to marry him. And you didn’t even ask, you demanded.”
He smiles brilliantly and says, “And you like it that way.”
Damn him.
Just because he’s right, doesn’t mean he’s right.
“I thought you wanted to leave.” I pull my wrap from beneath my chair.
He grabs my hand, yanking me toward the door. There’s no need for the manhandling, I’ll follow this man to the ends of the earth, but I don’t hate it.
“Sir? Is everything all right?” The waiter hurries to follow us as we make our way to the stairs.
“We won’t be staying,” Artem says, slowing at the stairs so I don’t fall and break my neck with my sky-high heels. But he gets annoyed when I slow too much and sweeps me up into his arms and carries me down.
“Um, is there anything I can…do?” The waiter hurries to keep up with us, probably afraid he’s losing a huge tipping customer.
“Charge the card on file for the full dinner,” Artem tells the hostess as we pass her and her shocked expression.
“Dammit.” Annoyed when he remembers he valeted his car, he puts me back down, steadying me on my feet before letting go. He demands the valet get the car now.
“I hope you’re not this hurried when we get home,” I tease, pinching his arm.
He shoots me a look that would make grown men crap their pants. I laugh.
While waiting for the car, his phone vibrates repeatedly, several messages coming through one after the other.
He digs it out and swipes the screen alive. His expression goes from impatient to stone cold murderous in a matter of seconds.
“Artem?” I touch his arm. “What is it?”
“Seamus.” He grunts.
“Oh. What does that windbag want? Did he find a new way to try to blow me up?” I force some lightness into my tone because his eyes are getting that stony look again. He’s blocking something out.
“He’s dead.”