Page 70 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream
“The city.”
“When will I see you again? And don’t say ‘soon’. That didn’t turn out too well last time.”
A corner of his lip curls upward and I realize I haven’t made him smile since before he gatecrashed my sister’s wedding.
“Tomorrow.”
My eyes widen. I wasn’t expecting to see him again so soon.
“We have another political dinner.”
My heart drops a fraction. “Won’t everyone suspect it was you who killed Grayson?”
“Let me be the one to worry about that.”
He says this with such pragmatism I almost find him reasonable. “Um… okay.”
Turning to leave, he stops himself halfway and coasts his gaze over me once more. “Wear something demure… please.”
“I’m not sure I have anything dem—” I start.
“Then buy something,” he clips. Then he flings a black charge card onto the bed and stalks out of the room.
Serafina
I’m noticing something of a theme here. Once again, I’m sitting in a blacked out car with Andreas by my side, his nostrils flaring, his hands curled into fists on his knees. But in a fresh twist, I decide to break the silence.
“Are you a bad traveler?”
He frowns and darts his gaze to me. “What?”
“Do you not like traveling?”
He narrows his eyes, asking me to elaborate.
“Every time I’ve sat with you in a car, you’ve seemed really tense.”
His jaw ticks. “I’m fine.”
Right. I guess that’s all I’m getting. I pan my gaze out of the window, watching the street lamps burst to life illuminatingdark corners and sidewalks.
Then three rasped words make me smile.
“I said ‘demure.’”
I roll my lips inward and glance down at my outfit. I’m wearing a very snug, dark green pencil dress that is cut perfectly to accentuate my curves while balancing out my silhouette with capped sleeves, generous neckline and a nipped in waist.
“Thisisdemure. You can’t even see my knees.”
He shoots me a glare out the corner of his eye and I return to smiling smugly at my reflection in the window.
We reach the venue and step out of the car. There’s no paparazzi greeting us this time. In fact, it feels ominously quiet.
Without a word, Andreas takes my hand and this time I curl my fingers around it. His bicep stiffens at my shoulder and his presence seems to fill out, wrapping itself around me like armor.
Once inside, I turn to him. “I’m just going to the restroom.” The last few minutes holding his hand have sent my body temperature soaring and I need to splash some cold water on my face.
His eyes darken. “I’ll wait here.”
