Page 25 of Knocked up By the Minotaur

I feel incredibly drawn to him right now. And I don’t know how good that is for me in the long run.

Chapter 10

Olistaire

I hadn’t exactly intended to give that little speech. I’d wanted to keep things light, fun and flirty.

Five seconds later, out of nowhere I’m confessing the strength of my desire for her like some sort of rut-crazed bull. I’m just wondering whether I should be feeling embarrassed or not, when she curses, downs the rest of her cocktail, and looks like she’s about to vault the table and climb into my lap.

My breath catches at the look in her eyes, and I stop fiddling with my glass. “Grace—”

“Right!” She moves back and starts frantically searching for a waiter. “I need some water.”

“Grace,” I all but purr contentedly, a smile pulling unbidden against my lips as I watch her cheeks flood with pink. “Are you flustered?”

“Jesus Christ,” she mutters again. “Flustered? Good god, Oli, where do you get off talking to women like that? And this dress! You can’t just spend that much—Who even—Yes! Please, can we get a bottle of water for the table?”

I grin at the waiter, a perky satyr who appears suddenly beside us, and order myself another drink too, as well as a charcuterie board, in case Grace gets peckish after her two consecutive cocktails.

“I bought you the dress because I’m selfish,” I tell her as the satyr leaves, and I lean back to drape an arm over the back of the small outdoor sofa I sit on. “I wanted to see it on you. And it was worth every cent, whether you give me the opportunity to peel it off you or not.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she chants under her breath. When the water arrives and I pour her a glass, she downs the entire thing like it’s a shot of tequila. It takes everything in me not to chuckle. She is entirely too cute right now.

“Right,” she repeats when she’s done. “So, Sera. Is she even here? Who am I looking out for?”

I blink, my mind taking a second to catch up with her words. “Would you believe me if I told you I’d forgotten about her?”

“Pff,” she snorts, pouring another glass and avoiding eye contact. “I’m sure.”

I take a second to decide whether it’s worth arguing the point. I had forgotten, to be frank, caught up in the flushes of Grace’s skin. The whole world’s boiled down to the woman before me, and as I look around the bustling courtyard, the quiet hum of chatter and jazz wafting back into my awareness, it feels odd. Like none of it is important anymore.

I spot Seraphina as my eyes do an uninterested sweep of the space, and I almost miss her for my haste to look back at Grace. “Actually, don’t look, but she’s just arrived,” I say absently.

Grace immediately swivels in her seat, craning her head to gaze all around her, and I rub my forehead with an amused wince. “Subtle.”

“Which one is she?”

“I’m not telling you until you look back at me.”

When her bright blue eyes land on mine, I raise my brows. “Don’t turn your head, I’ll tell you when she sits so you can subtlylook, alright?” I don’t really want to think about Sera anymore, but I can see that Grace is burning with curiosity and likely won’t drop the issue, so I relent. “She’s the harpy in the pencil skirt and briefcase. Black rimmed glasses perched right on the end of her nose, bright red lipstick.”

“What’s a harpy?” Her head tips in curiosity, and despite her two successive cocktails, there’s only a slight looseness in her shoulders and words.

“Half-woman, half-bird,” I say with a shrug. “Big, black-feathered wings… on her back…”

Immediately—and I mean immediately,before my sentence even finishes—Grace’s head is swiveling once more.

“Wow, yeah, her wings are huge.”

I start to chuckle, despite my best efforts to hold it in. “Alright, you see her. And soon, she’ll see us. Mission accomplished.” I reach for my glass and take a lazy pull. “Can we get back to the part where I make you blush?”

But her face remains firmly pointed at wherever Sera must now be seated with whoever she’s being joined by, and she doesn’t reply.

I clear my throat, and eventually Grace looks back.

“She’s really pretty.” Her expression has gone oddly blank, and her gaze slips away from mine too quickly as she crosses her arms. My heart skips a beat. Is she jealous?

Once more, I see nothing but the curvy little beauty before me, chewing on her cheek in annoyance and trying to look unaffected. Her hair falls in caramel waves around her shoulders, her breasts pushed enticingly up over the scooping neckline of the dress I chose for her, which she honors me by wearing. She huffs and pouts at the mere existence of Sera, and nothing has ever looked more delicious to me in my life than the sight of her right now. Which strikes me as odd, since jealousy is usually a turn off. Why it would make my heart thump in my chest with possessive satisfaction is beyond me, but I can’t deny that it does.

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