Chapter Four #2
Kleya sat back and studied him. A hint of a tattoo teased the edges of his shirt, and she wondered what the rest of him looked like.
Did he have tattoos everywhere? The couple of men she had briefly dated had been stuffy clones of her father, so they never had anything marring their pasty-white skin.
Nor did they possess one ounce of personality.
“You’re staring,” he said, even while focusing his own gaze on her.
“Just trying to figure you out,” she replied. “You seem unfazed by what happened tonight.”
“I expected this.”
Didn’t take a genius to guess who was behind the attack. “How are you going to retaliate?”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you going to try to stop me?”
“No,” she answered truthfully. “I’d help you.”
“What if it involves hurting someone?”
“I have this feeling you would only hurt someone who wronged you, and not an innocent person.”
He picked up her hand and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “You’re right. I would never use my position in that manner.”
Their food arrived and they spent a few minutes orienting themselves with their dishes. Each bite she took, she watched James closely, wondering what made him tick. Although they came from the same world, rarely had she crossed his path.
“You’re staring again.”
“Just curious.”
“About?”
“If you have more tattoos.”
“I have a lot of tattoos,” he affirmed. “They’re addictive. You get one, you get more. Do you have any?”
“No. Nor do I have any piercings. Not even my ears.”
“Okay, no earrings as presents. Got it.”
“Not what I was hinting at.”
He flashed a smile. “Now that we’ve brought up the subject of what I should bribe you with when I will indubitably piss you off, what would be an acceptable gift?”
“Why will you piss me off?”
“Men usually piss off women,” he replied with a shrug. “I think it’s hardwired into male DNA.”
“Very astute, but I don’t need presents when we disagree.
That’s a normal function of any relationship.
I just want us to talk things out if or when that happens.
” She couldn’t help but think of her parents.
Ellen Dane decided to use alcohol as a means to cope with her unhappiness, while her father had side girlfriends.
Kleya refused to live like that. “I am very aware how arranged marriages can be toxic, and I will not live with that slow poison. How about we tell each other the things that rub us the wrong way, so we both have a baseline knowledge of what we shouldn’t do, say, or act. ”
“All right,” he said, sounding a little surprised. “This should be interesting.”
“You’ve already stated you’ll have no mistresses.”
“To be a good leader, people have to trust you,” he said emphatically. “Breaking a promise or a vow is a line I will not cross. I expect the same curtesy.”
“Absolutely.” She was only getting started about her own desires for her future. “You should know, I am a feminist.”
“I’m all for feminism. There will be times, however, where you’ll have to play the part of a simple supporting wife.”
“I understand that.”
“Good. What else?”
“If you hit me, even just a smack across my face, I’ll kick your balls up into your rectum.”
“Duly noted,” he said with a nod. “I do prefer my balls staying right where they are. I believe this falls under mutual respect as well.”
“I will never raise a hand to you,” she assured him. “Except in retaliation if you hit me, as I stated above.”
“Does that include sexual spankings?”
She just about choked on her own saliva. “Um. I don’t know how to answer that. Do you like sexual spankings?”
“I like giving them.”
“Okay,” she said, clearing her throat. “Do I get to return the gesture?”
Surprise filtered over his face. “We’ll see.”
She bit her bottom lip, trying not to laugh. Guess he wasn’t expecting that. “Okay, we have established curtesy and consideration for one another. I like cooking so do you have any food allergies or things you dislike?”
“No allergies. I dislike peas.”
“That’s it?”
“I’m a simple man.”
She lifted one eyebrow. “Now that is a flat out lie.”
Amusement danced on his face. “What about you?”
“Me? I don’t like lying.”
“That’s good. I hate liars. But I was inquiring to allergies and foods you dislike.”
“I’m not allergic to any foods, but I do have an allergy to penicillin. I’m not overly fond of onions and garlic.”
“Wise. Garlic breath is hard to get rid of.”
Kleya never thought she’d find James Roarke charming, but here she was, being thoroughly charmed. “Mutual respect. No lying. Communication. I think that’s a good start to our marriage.”
“Speaking of which, I know we’ve only just met, so I will understand if you want to put off the consummation of our marriage until you’re ready.”
Sex hadn’t been on her mind until right then, and now her brain imagined what he’d look like naked. “Um, no that’s okay. But can we not call it that? Consummation sounds a little medieval.”
“Very well. Sex. On our wedding night.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “Yes. That’s better.”
He cocked his head. “Kleya, are you a virgin?”
“Yes,” she answered, holding eye contact. “I’m not ashamed of that. It had been drummed into my head, when I finally understood the concept, to not sleep around.”
“I wouldn’t have cared,” he said. “Views about a woman’s virginity are archaic, something that is medieval.” He paused, staring at her. “Although, I’ll be honest and say I quite like the idea of being your only man.”
“I take it you’re not a virgin.”
“No, I’m not,” he replied.
“Well, at least one of us will know what to do. But that adds a lot of pressure on you.”
He cocked his head. “Pressure?”
“Since you are experienced, you better make the sex good because I expect lots of orgasms.”
James threw back his head and laughed.
Then a man wearing a white chef’s coat entered their room, his own smile a practiced facade. “Mr. Roarke! So lovely to see you again. Miss Dane, how is your mother and father?”
She never did care for Chef Pierre. Every time she met him at a gala, a predatory look shone in his eyes and made her blood run cold. However, manners had been instilled in her by tutors who liked using rulers to discipline.
“Chef Pierre,” she said with a bob of her head to acknowledge him.
“I heard you two have become engaged,” he continued. “My deepest congratulations.”
“Thank you,” James replied. His eyes narrowed looking from her to the chef and back.
“Are you enjoying your meal?”
“Yes.”
Chef Pierre was obviously dense if he couldn’t read the tension in the room. He just prattled on.
“I’m honored you chose my restaurant to celebrate your wonderful union.” He frowned. “Except I must apologize, Miss Dane, for the missing ingredient that would’ve made this dish sing.”
He kissed his fingertips and gave a smacking sound. Kleya didn’t really care about his magnifique missing ingredient, but she was curious.
“What would that be?”
“Beluga caviar.”
Suddenly, she lost her appetite. She glanced at James, and he stared back at her. Something snapped into place between them. A gossamer thread of understanding. James frowned as he stared at the cook.
Kleya wiped her mouth and laid her napkin on the table. “Beluga caviar is banned from being imported to the US.”
“Of course,” he said immediately. “I would never do something illegal. Not without proper clearance. Red tape can be ridiculous, don’t you think? Unless someone can help make that tape disappear.” An awkward silence fell. “I do apologize for giving you an inferior dinner.”
“I never liked caviar.” James laid his napkin on the table. “I believe I’m quite full. Thank you, Chef, for the outstanding meal, even without your missing ingredient.”
“Of course. Would you like dessert, Miss Dane?”
“Ah, no, thank you.”
“Then I’ll send over your server at once. Again, thank you both for celebrating your engagement in my restaurant.”
Once he retreated, Kleya leaned forward. “Was he hinting you might be able to get his special clearance?”
“Certainly sounded that way to me. Why did you have that look on your face?”
“What look?”
“The I-just-smelled-something-rotten face.”
“I don’t like him,” she said with a shrug. “He’s never done anything to me, it’s just I wouldn’t want to be in a dark alley with him. All women are born with the instinct to spot a predator in sheep’s clothing.”
Just then the server came with a tablet.
James pulled his wallet out and tapped a black card on it without looking at the bill.
When everything had been settled, he pulled out her chair and helped her to stand.
He did not release her hand as they made their way out of the restaurant, and she tried to ignore the hope it gave her that he might be a little romantic.
He’d been very clear on what this union would be.
Pushing down the emotion, she went to open her rideshare app, but he stopped her.
A sleek, black McLaren rolled up and he handed the valet a folded hundred-dollar bill.
She looked at him. “What is this?”
“I had my assistant deliver one of my other cars.” He opened the door for her. “I thought I’d show you my high rise, to see if it might be a place you’d like to live.”
“Don’t you have to live at Veilstone Tower?”
“Not yet. I’d probably have to reside there most of the time, but I would make sure to come home to you on the weekends. If business allows, that is.”
“You would do that for me?”
“Of course. You’ll be my wife. I want you to be comfortable.”
Once again, he held out his hand to help her, and she gracefully sank onto the leather seat. Then he hurried around and slid behind the wheel. As she went to click her seatbelt, he took over, clicking it into place.