Page 19 of Ruthless Creatures
Before I can imagine, the maître d’ is helping me out of my chair and leading me by the elbow across the restaurant. Apparently, I don’t have a choice in the matter.
We arrive at Kage’s tableside. I’m surprised to find him standing. He doesn’t seem like someone who’d bother with such formalities.
The maître d’ pulls out the chair opposite his, bows, and retreats, leaving me standing there awkwardly as Kage stares at me with burning eyes.
“Please, sit.”
It’s the “please” that finally does it. I sink into the chair, swallowing because my mouth is suddenly so dry.
He sits also. After a moment, he says, “That dress.”
I glance up at him, bracing myself for another insult about my fussy wedding gown, but he’s gazing with lowered lids at the dress I’m currently wearing. He probably thinks this one is hideous, too.
Self-conscious, I fiddle with one of the spaghetti straps. “It’s old. Simple.”
His dark eyes flash up to meet mine. He says hotly, “Simple is better on you. Perfection doesn’t need any embellishment.”
It’s a good thing I’m not holding a glass, because I’d drop it.
Stunned, I stare at him. He stares right back, looking like he’d like to punch himself in the face.
It’s obvious he doesn’t like it when he gives me compliments. Also obvious is that he never intends to, they just come out.
Less obvious is why he gets so angry with himself when it happens.
My cheeks burning, I say, “Thank you. That’s… probably the nicest compliment I’ve ever been given.”
He grinds his molars for a while, then takes a long swig of his whiskey. He sets the glass back down on the tabletop with such force I jump.
He’s regretting the invitation. Time to let him off the hook.
“It was very nice of you to invite me over, but I can see you’d rather be alone. So thank you for—”
“Stay.”
It comes out as a barked command. When I blink, startled, he softens it with a murmured, “Please.”
“Okay, but only if you take your meds.”
He murmurs to himself, “She’s funny, too. How inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient for who?”
He simply gazes at me without answering.
What is it with this guy?
The maître d’ returns holding the bottle of champagne I ordered, along with two flutes.
Thank god. I was just about to start gnawing on my arm. I can’t remember the last time I was this uncomfortable.
Oh, wait. Sure I can. It was last night, when Prince Charmless so elegantly rejected my request for a ride home. Or was it this morning, when he saw me in my wedding dress and looked as if he was about to throw up?
I’m sure if I give it five more minutes, I’ll have another example to choose from.
Kage and I are silent as the maître d’ uncorks the bottle and pours. He informs us our waiter will be over soon, then disappears as I’m shooting my champagne like I’m in a competition for an all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii.
When I set my empty glass down, Kage says, “You always drink so much?”
