Page 68 of Beast

I offer her my arm which she takes. I lead her toward our table, making a mental note to call the boutique tomorrow and thank them for the dress. It was certainly money well spent.

I pull out her chair and she sits gracefully, arranging the skirt of her dress with care. A waiter appears with our first course just after I take my seat.

Blake’s brow furrows.

“I selected the tasting menu for us this evening to fully showcase the quality of the cuisine,” I explain.

Blake nods.

“This is a pan-seared scallop with truffle emulsion,” the waiter announces as he places the dish before her with a flourish.

“It looks wonderful, thank you,” she says, rewarding him with a radiant smile that makes me bristle in irritation. Her smiles should be for me and me alone.

The waiter retreats, and I take the opportunity to fill Blake’s wine glass. “I hope you enjoy everything this evening. I want it to be a night to remember.”

She meets my gaze levelly. “It certainly will be interesting,” she replies cryptically before taking a bite of her scallop.

Glancing across the table at Black, I notice a soft curl has come loose from her elegant updo, and it takes all my willpower not to reach across and tuck it gently behind her ear. I want so badly to touch her, to feel her skin beneath my fingertips again. But I know one misstep could undo all the progress I’ve made in getting her here with me this evening.

“Are you enjoying your meal?”

She nods, dabbing at her mouth with the linen napkin. “It’s wonderful. I’ve never tasted scallops this fresh and perfectly cooked.”

“I’m glad it meets your approval. I wanted our first date together to be memorable.” I clench my jaw, cursing myself for the slip of tongue.

Her blue eyes flash with irritation. “This isn’t a date, Gaston,” she says firmly. “We’re merely two acquaintances sharing a meal together.”

I resist the urge to argue, inclining my head. “Of course. My mistake.”

She looks a little surprised that I don’t argue, and an awkward silence settles between us while I scramble for something to say to break the tension. Our waiter chooses that moment to arrive with the next course, providing a temporary distraction.

“The scallop was delicious, thank you,” Blake says to him with another polite smile. I feel that irrational flare of jealousy again at her friendly tone.

The waiter removes our plates and presents the second course—a beautifully arranged medley of quail and root vegetables.

“This looks so good,” Blake says appreciatively.

“Only the best for you,” I reply, hoping the earlier awkwardness is forgotten. I lift my wine glass. “To new beginnings?”

She appraises me for a long moment before lifting her own glass with the barest hint of a smile. “To new beginnings,” she agrees before taking a sip.

The sound of crystal chiming musically together settles my nerves. The evening is still young and ripe with potential. I simply need to mind my words and continue showing Blake I’m worthy of her trust. I’ll make her see that I’m serious about us. That I can give her the life she deserves.

“How are you enjoying being back at Brown?” I ask, eager to learn more about this part of Blake’s life. “Your studies must keep you busy.”

Blake pauses, a forkful of quail halfway to her mouth. She sets it down gently, dabbing at her lips with the linen napkin before responding.

“It’s been an adjustment, getting back into the swing of classes and assignments after...” she trails off, leaving the words unspoken between us. After being held captive by a ruthless drug cartel and then sold to me as my personal plaything.

“But yes, my coursework has provided a welcome distraction,” she continues briskly, eager to move past any mention of what happened. “I’d forgotten how demanding the psychology program is. Late nights spent writing research papers, brutal exams, group projects with useless partners.”

“I don’t miss those days,” I admit. “Though I suppose the long hours spent in board meetings and poring over earnings reports are their own particular brand of torture.”

It’s the closest I’ve come to openly complaining about my role as CEO and Blake looks at me curiously.

“I can’t even imagine the stress and pressure that comes with running a multi-billion dollar company,” she says. “Do you enjoy it?”

Our conversations, save a couple, have largely centered around my single-minded pursuit of her. It’s refreshing, being seen as more than just a ruthless predator fixated on making her submit.

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