As we stand, he holds out his right hand, and I slide my left into it. He lifts it and looks at the ring, presses his lips to it, then smiles.
Oh yes. I’m definitely in trouble.
Chapter Nine
Kingi
“Where’s your chauffeur today?” Chessie asks as I drive the car off the ferry and head for the city center. “If he’d driven, you could have had a drink.”
“I don’t have a chauffeur,” I reply, pulling up at a traffic light. “I like driving.”
“Well, we could have taken a taxi.”
“Nah, I’m not bothered about alcohol.”
“You don’t drink?” Her eyes boggle. “I can’t imagine life without wine.”
“I do, and I enjoy a good wine or whiskey, but I don’t have to have one, plus Orson is going to have a field day with you there tonight, and I need to keep my wits about me.”
“What do you mean?” She looks alarmed. “Oh, now I’m nervous.”
“You don’t have anything to worry about. He’s on your side, and Scarlett’s lovely. They just think this whole arrangement is hysterical and want to make my life a misery.”
That makes her giggle. “Should be a fun evening, then.”
“You have no idea.” I drive along the waterfront slowly. Even though it’s a Tuesday, it’s busy here at this time of night. I turn into the car park just down from the restaurant, and I’m relieved to find a space not far from the exit.
“Neat bit of parking,” she says as I turn off the engine. “I hear we were fortunate to get a table. Ria says it’s usually impossible unless you book three months ahead.”
“Yeah. Luckily I know the owner.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widen.
I chuckle and look at a text on my phone. “Come on. Orson’s already there.”
We get out, and I collect my jacket from the back seat and slip it on, lock the car, and take her hand. It feels tiny in my big paw, with fine bones. My fingers could easily close around her wrist.
That provokes a vision of me pinning them above her head while I thrust into her. Red hair spilled over the pillow. My brown hands against her pale, freckled skin. Once again, I wonder whether she has freckles all over…
I clear my throat and lead the way across the road toward the restaurant. I mustn’t think about her that way. Prohibited conduct, Kingi. For the first time, I thank Tane for his wisdom in including that clause.
We approach the restaurant, threading through the busy crowd outside. There’s a queue of people out the front, hoping for a last-minute table cancellation, which they won’t get. And I can see at least one photographer, lazily snapping the guests as they approach the door, hoping to capture a headline for the next day.
For the first time, Chessie’s step falters. “Oh God,” she mumbles.
I look down at her. “What?”
She stops walking, then looks down at herself. “I’m going to stand out like a sore thumb.”
My gaze skims down her. Her navy slacks are clearly well-worn, and I have a feeling her top might belong to one of her friends, because it’s not quite her style, and it’s a little tight across her breasts, although I don’t see that as a negative thing. She isn’t wearing makeup, as far as I can tell, and she’s swept her hair up in a simple twist with a plain clip. Her only jewelry is a pair of simple hoops that could pass for white-gold, although I suspect they’re silver.
She’s right in that the other women here are likely to have streaked hair, perfect makeup, expensive clothing, and diamondearrings. I should have taken her shopping first and bought her a few outfits so she wouldn’t feel out of place.
But oddly, there’s something about her fresh-faced, natural look that appeals to me. The word pretentious doesn’t exist in her vocabulary, and that’s refreshing coming from a world where appearances are often everything, and personality is low on the scale of what’s important.
“You look beautiful,” I tell her sincerely. “I’d rather have you on my arm than any of the women here.”
She rolls her eyes and brushes at her pants as if they’re dusty, although they’re spotless, so I think she liked the compliment.