Page 35 of The Wrong Husband
I hand the menus back to the waiter.
Phe arches a brow. “Presumptuous of you to order for me.”
“How did I do?”
“Perfectly.” A reluctant smile curves her lips. She reaches for her water and takes a sip. “How did you know what I wanted?”
I lean back, letting a slow grin unfurl. “Your pupils dilated when you read the word ‘mushroom.’ You tapped your finger—twice—when the waiter mentioned turbot. Subtle cues. Pattern recognition. It’s my thing.”
You’re my thing.
I’ve been watching her for weeks, observing her so closely, I could write a thesis on her. But the truth? I haven’t just been observing her. I’ve memorized her. Every twitch, every breath. Every soft, infuriating, fascinating part of her.
She lets out a breath that’s half-laugh, half-groan. “I can’t decide if you’re showing off or just being your infuriatingly confident self.”
I tilt my head. “I admit, I was trying to impress you.”
“By rolling back years of female agency?” she scoffs.
“By taking care of you.”
That gives her pause. Her forehead creases.
“You’re exhausted. It’s been another long day. I’ll bet you haven’t had a proper meal in days. Today was the first time you saw your friends in…how long?”
I pause, watching the subtle clench in her jaw.
“All I did was spare you one more decision. So, you could breathe. Eat. And maybe—just for a second—enjoy yourself.”
“And you say, you did not infringe on my privacy?” She lifts her chin.
“Maybe I did… A little. Having the chance to run surveillance on you gave me a head start in terms of piecing together much of your personality. On the other hand—“ I incline my head. “It wasn’t difficult to deduce that, based on you being an ER specialist.”
“Hmph.” She folds her arms across her chest. "Your point being?"
"I ordered for you, so you didn’t have to make yet another decision. This way, you can relax and enjoy the dinner. And the company.”
She takes another sip of the water. "I shouldn’t find the argument compelling. Because really, everything you’ve done has confirmed to me that, while you’re handsome, you’re also a wanker. A stuck-up, egoistical wanker who has a very high opinion of himself."
"You think I’m handsome?"
She chokes on the next mouthful of water, then places her glass down. Her lips twitch, but then she seems to bring her mirth under control.
"Seriously?” She huffs. “Do you want me to answer that?"
"Sorry, that was me behaving like an arsehole." I raise my hands.
"It was." She nods.
"But I stand by everything else I said."
She tosses her head. "You have a big opinion of yourself."
"In this case, your observation is warranted."
She chuckles.
“If by ordering for you, I took you for granted, I apologize.”
