Page 39 of A Forgotten Promise

My lips graze Saar’s ear. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

I linger for a moment, telling myself it’s for the purposes of leaking the news of our rendezvous.

But I can’t ignore the lavender perfume, and the warmth of her skin so close to mine. It’s almost unfortunate she hates me, because we could certainly enjoy this arrangement a lot more.

Keep your dick in your pants, you idiot.That thought flits through my mind, immediately followed by another one.I will make her mine.

She remains completely still, like she isn’t even breathing. I don’t move either. For anyone watching, I’m whispering something in her ear.

In reality, I breathe in her captivating scent and enjoy her discomfort. “You should relax, The Morrigan; people are watching.”

She sucks in air and grabs my biceps, her nails digging in deep. If I wasn’t wearing my suit jacket, she may have drawn blood.

“I’ll relax as soon as you step back,” she says through her teeth.

I chuckle and finally take the seat across from her. “What is it? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

She takes her Martini glass and smiles at me seductively. “It must be your charming personality.”

I adjust my cuffs. “So youareuncomfortable.”

She flinches. “I’m uncomfortable with this arrangement. Of course I am.”

“I thought you needed your trust fund.” I open the menu casually without looking at it. “There is nothing wrong with taking what’s yours.”

She snaps her eyes to me and blinks a few times, like the concept is foreign to her. An interesting slip of her mask?

She doesn’t believe she can take what’s hers? Or is she surprised I said something normal, not motivated by my insatiable need to taunt her?

Our waiter shows up and startles when I glare at him.

“Just get us today’s special and give us some privacy,” I snarl.

I’m being an asshole here, but he interrupted a rare moment of honesty in Saar’s eyes. Goddammit. The moment is gone.

“What a gentleman.” Saar snorts. “A woman choosing her meal is too progressive for you?” She is spitting the words while maintaining a perfectly pleasant face.

“It’s uncanny how good you are at this pretense. Some show you put on.” I chuckle.

“Don’t forget I’ve done this for years.”

I raise my eyebrows but keep my grin. “Fake relationships?”

She rolls her eyes, but covers the gesture with quite believable fake laughter like I said something funny. “Play a role. Model. Be what others want me to be.” She winces at her last sentence.

And suddenly, I’m interested in all her secret parts. And there are many. She tries to hide them from me, but that makes her even more intriguing.

And why is my grin genuine?

“So smile, pose, repeat?” I tease.

She studies me for a long moment. “Yes, exactly, just a prop.”

I lean forward. I shouldn’t care about her feelings. And yet… “You were there when I told Betsy not to ever treat you like that. You were there, so don’t you fucking dare to accept that label.”

She may not like me, but I hate it when people accept a story about themselves that makes them feel less. Not that I’ve subscribed to this belief about myself lately.

“Aren’t you using me as one?” She smiles sweetly.

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