Page 44 of The Unplanned Wedding

She blinks, and realization dawns on her features. She glances around the room again, and her features soften. "It is a beautiful venue," she finally offers.

Not as beautiful as you.Unbidden, the thought scrolls across my mind. I scowl. I don’t do sappy thoughts. And I’m not a romantic. But being withher threatens to turn me into one. Fucking hell. I glance around and snap my fingers.

The Maître d'hôtel appears at my side as if by magic. He sets down a tray with folded napkins on it. Those should be the cold towels I asked for. Next to them is a tube of aloe. I messaged the restaurant on my way here. I nod my thanks, then look at the menu.

"She’ll have a glass of the Domaine Leflaive Montrachet Grand Cru and a Macallan for me."

She begins to protest, but when I continue to order, she subsides.

"For the starters, she’ll have the Roasted cauliflower with curry leaf and coconut, and I’ll have the Foie gras terrine with spiced pear chutney. For the main, she’ll have the vegan wild mushroom risotto with black truffle. I’ll have the Aged Herefordshire beef fillet with bone marrow jus. For dessert we’ll have the Dark chocolate and mango tart.”

“You’re allergic to mango,” she reminds me.

I pause. She’s right.Am I so taken in by her presence that I forgot that?

“How about the I replace that with orange, Sir?” the Maître d' asks without losing a beat.

I nod.

The Maître d' half bows. “Very good, Madam. Sir.” He gathers our menus and leaves.

She waits until he’s out of earshot, then leans forward. "How did you know I'm vegan?"

Because I called the delicatessen where you order your lunch.And no, that doesn’t mean anything. But would I do it for any other employee? The answer leaves me cold. So instead of replying, I opt to answer her question with a question, “How did you know I was allergic to mango?”

“I’m your assistant. I had to familiarize myself with your dietary habits so I could specify them when I made restaurant bookings or confirmed your attendance at events.” Her forehead wrinkles. “You, on the other hand... There’s no reason for you to know about my food preferences," she says slowly.

"If you’re done ruminating about my food order, could we focus on the work at hand?" I look at her from under my eyelashes.

She wears a confused expression. "I haven’t indicated that I’m vegan in any of the onboarding questionnaires for the company either, so?—"

"I've noticed what you have for lunch," I lie.

“You... You did?” Hope shines in her eyes, and I know I need to bat it away before she begins to envisage a relationship between us.

So, I drawl, "Don’t read anything into it. I’m a former Marine. We’re trained to notice details. Besides”—I ensure my expression grows bland— “you look like the type who prefers the most boring items on the menu."

She firms her lips. Hurt filters into her eyes, and damn, if I don’t feel it like it’s my own. I almost reach over and take her hand, then stop myself at the last second.Her feelings are of no consequence to me.She’s my employee, and sometimes, willing plaything. Yes, that’s all she is.

She shifts in her seat, then when she sees me watching her, she flushes. “My butt... Uh... It hurts.”

“Good.”

Her lips part in surprise, and damn, if my cock doesn’t instantly take notice of that heart-shaped hole between them. Then, because I love to keep her off-kilter. I rise to my feet, then grab the tray of cold towels, round the table and set it next to her.

“Get up.”

She blinks but does as I command. Once more, her trust in me is... Empowering and humbling. “Pull up your skirt, then slide your stockings and panties down, and bend over the table.”

Not only are there no other patrons here, but I’ve asked James to make sure all the security cameras have been switched off, ensuring complete privacy.

She swallows, then does as I asked. I push the chair out of the way and step behind her. A trembling grips her. I stare down at her exposed arse. The skin is reddened and glowing. Jesus. A familiar thrill squeezes my guts. What I wouldn’t give to take her right here, but I won’t. For now, I need to take care of her. And feed her. I take the cold towel and gently place it over her butt cheek.

She stiffens, then as the cold sinks into her skin, she sighs. “That feels good.”

I take the other towel and press it to her other arse cheek. I hold both towels until her body slumps further. Then I pace the towels back on the tray and smear the aloe-vera gel on her behind.

“Ohh, that feels even better.”

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