Page 25 of The Pakhan's Forced Bride
I fold my arms over my chest and stare out at the surfers. I was having fun. Why did he have to arrive and ruin it?
“I love this place. How has your morning been? You’ve been rather quiet.” He leans towards me, his elbows on the table and his legs brushing against mine beneath it. I force myself to ignore the excitement that washes over me as our bodies touch.
“I was reading,” I answer shortly.
“And some shopping, what did you find?” he dips his hand into my shopping bag, and I scowl at him. He lifts the dress out, and his brows raise, accompanied by a mischievous smile. “Now that is sexy,” he says, his voice oozing charm again.
I roll my eyes. “I know. That’s why I chose it.”
All through lunch, Ardalion seems oblivious to my annoyance. That, or he’s choosing to ignore it on purpose. He is happy, chatting, talking about all sorts of things, people watching, and making amusing comments about what they might be up to.
It would be the perfect afternoon if it weren’t for Lydia, sitting in my thoughts, looping around in my head.
Chapter 8 - Ardalion
Belle is extra grumpy.
She’s pouting and moody as she sits opposite me at the Pier restaurant. I thought I was going to surprise her here and find a cheerful, mischievous Belle—maybe proud of herself for sneaking out so easily.
The truth is that the guards informed me as soon as she started the car, and I told them to let her through the gate.
But she doesn’t know that, and I can’t work out what’s got her so tense. No matter how much effort I put into the conversation, she’s disinterested, closed off, and building a wall around herself to block me out.
While we eat, I rack my brain, trying to recall if I did or said anything that might have offended her, but nothing comes to mind. We’ve been getting on incredibly well. Things were going great, actually. This doesn’t make any sense.
After a tense lunch, with me trying to coax information out of her, she stands up and says she’s ready to go home.
“Don’t you want any dessert?” I ask, not wanting our first outing to end like this.
“No. I want to go home. You stay, have dessert. I can drive myself,” she sasses, turning away from the table.
“Wait.” I stand up and grab her arm, tugging her back towards me, pulling her against my chest. “I actually need a lift. Drake dropped me off. I don’t have a car here.” Her body feels good against mine. She scrunches her nose, clearly not wanting to be this close to me.
Belle rolls her eyes and lets out an annoyed sigh. I do my best to hide my grin, but she catches it and narrows her eyes at me as though she’s shooting daggers in my direction.
“Fine,” she huffs, stepping away from me.
“I’ll settle the bill, then we can go. Were there any other places you wanted to stop? Any stores or special places you want to see?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No. Not with you.”
Not with me?I must have done something. What was it?
“It’s still early. We can walk along the beach or—"
“No, thank you. I said I wanted to go home.” Her annoyance has escalated into anger. I can’t push my luck anymore with her.
After settling the bill, we leave the restaurant together, and I resist the urge to wrap my arm around her as we walk along the sidewalk past the stores, weaving our way through a popular street in LA.
The air smells of the ocean, fresh and warm. Every now and then, I steal a glance at Belle. Her face is pulled tight as she marches with purpose, not bothering to enjoy the walk or the views.
What has gotten into her?
When we reach the car, I quickly step in front of her, blocking her from opening the driver’s side. “No, little bunny.Idrive.” I say sternly.
“I am perfectly capable of driving a car, Ardalion. Don’t be that sexist idiot who believes women can’t drive,” she snaps, heated, confronting me with her chin tilted high.
“It’s not about that, Belle. It’s my job to make sure you are comfortable. A princess sits in the passenger seat and enjoys the views. That’s how it works.” I lean over to grab the keys from her hand, and she pulls them away. It turns into an amusing, silly wrestle that ends with her pinned beneath me, her back against the driver’s side door.
