Page 16 of Night's Fall
I did know he was watching me, his head turned my way, and there was somethingIdidn’t like about that either, since the way the booth was illuminated,Iknew he could see all of me, butIcouldn’t see his face, and as such, his expression.
This went on so long, unusually for a quiet person like me,Icouldn’t take it any longer.
“AmIallowed to speak?”Iasked.
“Why would you not be?” he asked in return.
I’d heard his voice.Hemade speeches every once in a while.Hespoke for theDynasty, and occasionally, for the king.Hewas a succinct speaker and had a smooth, deep, delicious voice.
Live and in person, the deep, rich, posh silk of it was staggering.
And for some reason, it made me mad.
I pried my fingers off my bag to flick a hand to whereI’dcurtsied. “Obviously,I’munaware of royal protocol.”
“Obviously,” he replied.
“I feel likeIneed to apologize for that,”Isaid, not sounding apologetic at all.
“Accepted,” he said, sounding scrumptiously, but infuriatingly haughty and like he deserved the apology he very well knewIdidn’t want to give him.
And this, for reasons that didn’t escape me, made me even madder.
“For future reference, consideringI’mstunned to my absolutecorethatI’mprivileged enough to be in your presence, say, ifIran into you atCaptainJacques’sFishandChips, and you were incognito, enjoying a tri-filet boat, shouldIcurtsy to you then?”
There was droll amusement thatIcouldn’t be sure wasn’t aimed at me, rather than shared with me, when his remarkable voice queried, “I’venever had a tri-filet boat atCaptainJacques’s.Isthat the meal you suggest?”
Of course he hadn’t eaten atCaptainJacques’sfast food fish emporium.
“No.Totallygo for the chicken schooner.Lessgreasy,”Iadvised.
“I’ll file that for future reference,” he murmured, even though we both knew he’d never be caught dead in aCaptainJacques’s.
And mm-hmm.
I was amusing him, and not in a good way, or at least, not in a good way for me.
Was it the pink dress?
Everyone was wearing dark.Sleek.Sophisticated.
It wasn’t that mine was gauche, or even inexpensive.Iwas a costume designer.Ididn’tdogauche (though,Idid inexpensive, but that had more to do with budget than choice).I’ddesigned period pieces and curated elaborate contemporary wardrobes.Iknew clothes down to the last stitch over the last three hundred decades (this was not an exaggeration).Someof my dearest friends were well-known artists in the fashion world (this why my current frock was not inexpensive, friends gave discounts).
But my dress was light and airy.Itwas soft and girlie.
It was me.
Was it so boring being a prince that you had to call over a strange woman and get your kicks by making fun of her?
I noticed his long, attractive fingers were wrapped around a squat glass filled with amber liquid.Hehad this resting on the knee of his very long crossed leg.AndInoticed it because he lifted it to his lips.
This movement brought him into the evasive light, and for the first time, close up and personal,Isaw in profile the sublime beauty ofPrinceAleksei, theTrueHeirofNight’sFall.
The elegance of his brow, the enticing hollow under his high cheekbone, the strength of his square jaw, the allure of his full lips, the shine to his thick black hair.
I watched him sip the amber liquid, a sensationI’dnever felt when she was alive happening in my chest, like my beast had turned over to her back and exposed her belly, and yeah.
Oh yeah.
