Page 43 of The Unplanned Wedding

15

Knox

Jesus Christ, this woman. She's negotiating with me... I admire that. Also, it gives me one more reason to punish her. Was that her intention?I frown.Am I the one being manipulated here? Nah, not possible. It does mean, however, that I’m going to draw out her retribution. Something I’m going to enjoy.

She’s nervous, as evidenced by how her fingers shake when she pushes the hair back from her face. But the stubborn set to her chin and the rigidity of her shoulders tells me she’s settled on her stance. And while I prefer my women submissive, I also want them to know their minds.

"Done." I hold out my hand.

She stares at it for a second before placing her much smaller palm in mine. An electric current seems to zip out from her touch. I stiffen. So does she. Her gaze widens, and she begins to pull back, but I wrap my fingers around her palm and squeeze.

A trembling grips her, and her lips part in an 'O' of surprise. Once again, I find myself leaning closer. I love the ‘O’ her pouty lips make. I love the color on her cheeks. I love the look she shoots me from underher eyelids, and the expression, which is half-anger, half-anticipation, with a dash of pleading. I especially love the pleading. I stare at her mouth, wanting to taste it. Wanting to kiss her and find out if she tastes as sweet as she smells. She tips up her mouth, and I lower my chin...just as the elevator slides to a stop. There’s a soft ping, and the doors slide open.

Saved by the proverbial bell from committing what would, surely, be a mistake? I release her arm, press the down arrow on the elevator, and step out. I’d love to invite her to my place, but if I did, I’m not sure I could control myself with her. "Go pick up your things at the gym, then wait for me in the reception area downstairs. I’ll jump in the shower and see you in a few minutes.”

"Eh?" She blinks rapidly. "I thought you wanted to punish me further?"

"I will, but after dinner.”

"Where are the other diners?" She looks around the spacious, yet spartan room. It’s in the heart of Mayfair, known for its billionaires from around the world who have their summer townhouses here in the center of London, but the facade of this restaurant is deceptively simple, as is the furnishing inside. Make no mistake, the elegant wood furniture, the crisp white tablecloth, the candles, and the single rose in the crystal vase in the center of the table, are all of the highest quality, and sourced from ateliers renowned for their innovative designs.

"What other diners?" I ask without looking up from the menu, mainly to elicit a response from her.

She doesn’t disappoint. "There are only four tables here." She glances about the restaurant once again before turning her wide green gaze on me. "And the rest are unoccupied."

"This restaurant only seats sixteen people, and"—I pause for effect—"we are the only diners tonight."

Her eyes widen until they seem to take up most of her face. It’s so fucking adorable to see the surprise on her face. When was the last time I was this taken with anything? When I saw her the first time, she entered my office is when. And before that? My life consisted ofsurviving every day, of getting through the insomnia-filled nights when I was too afraid to close my eyes for fear of the past coming back to haunt me.

"Did you book out the restaurant?" Her sweet voice cuts through the chaos of thoughts in my head.

"Didn’t have to. When I told James I was bringing a woman tonight, he decided it had to be special."

"Special?" She swallows, an uncertain look creeping into her eyes. "This was supposed to be a work meeting."

"And it is. We're going to talk about work, but no reason not to enjoy a great meal while we do so, hmm?" I aim for an innocent look on my face and am convinced she’s going to protest, but then she leans back in her seat and folds her arms across her chest.

"Why are you doing this?" She narrows her gaze on me.

"What do you mean?" I pretend I’m not aware of what she’s talking about. I do it to get a rise out of her and am rewarded when she firms her mouth.

"You know what I mean."

"Pray, enlighten me," I drawl.

Spots of red color her cheeks. Her brown eyes spark, and fuck, if that doesn’t arouse me. Why do I love getting a rise out of her so much?

"I mean, all this." She waves a hand in the air. "You bring me here, to one of the most famous Michelin-starred restaurants in the country?—"

"I happen to enjoy the food here." I shrug.

She huffs, "You tell me it’s a work meeting, but then you book out the restaurant?—"

"I like my privacy, especially when I’m talking about some very confidential deals with my assistant."

She purses her lips and seems unconvinced.

"Not my fault you don’t seem to be able to accept the opportunities that come your way," I say slowly.

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