Page 82 of King of the Cage

I keptup the pretense of not being hungry at Pino’s, until Bran ordered half the menu. Plate after plate arrived at the table, and I stared at it, hungry as hell.

“I hope you’re going to help me finish this,” Bran said, nodding to the jam-packed table.

“Well, wasting food is practically a crime.” I pulled a juicy caprese salad my way.

Bran stopped eating to answer his phone. He turned slightly away from me, our bound hands hidden beneath the table. As he talked away, a piece of paper appeared beside my plate. Our waiter had slipped me a note of some kind. Was it his number? A coded message —blink twice if you’re secretly handcuffed to your unwanted date?

I never got the chance to read it. Bran’s heavy hand slapped down on the folded paper with enough force to rattle all the dishes on the table.

“Now, I know you aren’t hitting on my wife while she’s sitting beside me, right?”

His dry tone sent shivers down my spine.

The waiter glanced at me and then back at Bran before dropping his dark gaze.

“I-I didn’t know,” he stammered.

Bran pulled our handcuffed hands into plain view.

“Is this clear enough for you? The woman has particular tastes; I doubt you could keep up,” Bran drawled.

The waiter paled at the sight of our bound hands and made a quick getaway. I elbowed Bran as hard as I could in the ribs.

He coughed and moved our joined hands back under the table, patting my leg.

“Don’t get excited, it was only a joke.”

“A joke? Everyone’s staring at us,” I murmured, my cheeks heating up.

“So?” Bran couldn’t have cared less about the attention he was drawing. He somehow managed to lounge in the booth like he hadn’t a care in the world, while also giving the impression he could take out every single man in the joint without breaking a sweat.

He gave me an appraising once-over. “Like you’re not used to it.”

The heat in my cheeks only grew. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m sure you’re used to being stared at… look at you.” Bran’s hot gaze left no room for doubt that he was paying me a compliment.

I shrugged off his words. “Yeah, and everyone knows looking good is the most important thing, right? As long as I keep mymouth shut,” I muttered, unthinkingly, desperately trying to calm my racing heart. What was it about this man that made me feel like I was standing in the middle of an electrical storm?

“What was that, selkie?” Bran shifted in his seat, sitting forward and catching my chin with his free hand, giving me no room to turn away from his probing attention.

I shrugged, and he tutted.

“You don’t say something like that and then fail to elaborate.”

“Pass.”

He nudged my leg under the table. “I’m afraid I must insist.”

I rolled my eyes. “You have a sister, I’m sure she knows all about it. Good little girls should be pretty, and polite, and most of all quiet, if they want to become wives one day. Don’t tell me I’m the first person to let you in on the fact that the world isn’t exactly equal?” I arched an eyebrow at him.

Bran studied me. I felt bare-ass naked again. Why had I overshared like that? I might as well have stuck on a badge that said:Hello, my name is Giada, and here are all my raging issues and insecurities. Please use them against me.

“Who told you to be quieter, selkie?”

“Why? Are you going to offer to kill them for me?” I batted my eyelashes up at him. “You don’t need to bother. They’re long dead.”

His lips quirked upward. There was no judgment. Instead, he nearly seemed proud.

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