Page 130 of Princess Avenged

His long elegant fingers shift on the table and he leans back against the padded leather bench. “My main objective today is to meet you. I never make donations of this size without getting to know the people responsible for keeping track of the money.”

The waiter arrives and sets down two cone-shaped glasses on stems, one in front of me and one for Mr. Zuben. No—just Zuben.

“It’s imperative that I inherently trust an organization’s accountant,” he says.

I nod and shift my focus to my drink.

Our glasses are rimmed with something crystalized, maybe sugar or salt, and the contents are amber, shining under the warm lighting. The drink’s almost clear, but with a slight murkiness that I suspect comes from the lemon.

“Shall we drink to Sanctuary House?” Zuben raises his glass.

“And to you.” I lift mine. “Your generous donation will transform our organization.”

He takes a sip of his drink and I tip mine to my lips.

It’s definitely not salt on the rim. I’d guess sugar, held there with lemon and something else I can’t quite make out. Passing my lips, the liquor burns my tongue and then my throat as I swallow. I try to stifle a cough.

“Do you like it?” Zuben asks, eyeing me with concern.

I nod, taking another small sip when the burn subsides.

“What flavors do you detect?” he asks.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I run my tongue around my mouth, not wanting to say something obvious like sugar or lemon. I want to impress him. There are flavors I recognize, but I’m not sure—“Orange?”

Zuben nods. “Orange peel is used in the distillation of Cointreau.”

Taking another sip, I hold the bittersweet liquid in my mouth as I inhale, and the flavor floods my senses.

“I’ve never had Cointreau before.” I smile at him. “What was the other thing in the drink?”

“Cognac,” he replies. “It’s a type of brandy, made in specific regions of France.” His voice is rich and soft, like velvet at this low volume, and I even though I’ve never had a big interest in alcohol, I want to hear more.

He tells me more about the origins of brandy and what makes cognac special amongst brandies and why this particular cognac is extra special, or something, and then he starts using French and Dutch words for equipment and places. But I don’t even try to keep up with the details. I just like hearing his voice and the heat of his attention as it floods over me. I nod and smile as I take small sips of the drink.

I’m mesmerized by this man—by his voice, his eyes, and the way he looks at me, and by his long fingers and how they are such an inconsistency of strength and grace as he gesticulates to emphasize points. My gaze follows as his index finger drops to the white tablecloth and draws an invisible outline of what I believe is a map of France, and then circles little areas of it to show me where the best cognac is made.

His hand moves to his glass, and my gaze follows it to his perfectly formed lips as he takes a sip of his drink—only his second sip, I realize—even though mine’s halfway gone. After he drinks, his eyes close and his cheeks and lips move slightly as he takes obvious pleasure in the flavors.

“Are you a liquor expert?” I ask. “Is that your profession? I don’t know much about DEFTA.”

His eyes snap open. “Why do you ask?”

“You sure know a lot about brandy.”

“Cognac,” he corrects, then shakes his head. “I went into too much detail. Sharing an excess of knowledge is my worst vice.” He smiles. “Please. Tell me more about yourself.”

“Me?” I shift slightly. “Sanctuary House provides support for homeless and at risk youth through a variety of programs which?—”

“I know all that.” His words, cutting me off, are abrupt, but the way he looks at me is the opposite. “I asked about you.”

I want to slide closer to him, to feel the touch of his fingers again on my skin… But that’s the effect of the alcohol. And there’s nothing interesting about me to tell—nothing I share anyway. I need to focus, to sell him on making this donation.

“May I tell you about our upcoming fundraising event?” I ask.

He shrugs.

“It’s a black tie gala and based on ticket sales it should raise thirty percent of our annual operating budget—and more if the silent and live auctions go well.”

---