Page 49 of A Royal Disaster
“Bloody hell.” Liam groaned and lowered his forehead to Elena’s. “You do realize I’m going to spend the next hour fantasizing about your naked body and all the things I could do to make you scream my name, right?”
“That was kind of the point,” she said, rising up on her toes to whisper in his ear. Her breath was a warm caress against his cheek, and his cock swelled at the prospect of having her soft lips wrapped around him. “If you survive dinner, I just might let you make those fantasies reality. Tonight.”
He silently cursed himself for not taking her up on the offer to sneak out. Surely her aunt would’ve understood they needed some time to fuck their brains out, right?
“You better get in here before Nia eats all the tostones,” Ella called, popping her head through the door. “That girl can eat.”
Elena laughed mischievously and pulled away, robbing him of her soft curves. Not that it made much difference to his cock. One touch from Elena was all it took to communicate the prospect of pleasure.
But first, dinner.
Liam took Elena’s hand and followed her into the cramped, noisy dining room. The cherrywood table was polished to a high sheen and set with fine china, though it was crowded with mismatched chairs to accommodate the extended family, something that would never be acceptable at the palace. All around them, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews scrambled to place steaming dishes of pork, rice, and vegetables on thick crochet doilies. It was truly a family affair with everyone pitching in to help, except Nia, who was munching on some kind of fried vegetable dipped in green sauce. There was nothing formal about it, although everyone had a role to play, no doubt learned over the course of countless family gatherings.
It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced at the palace, and he was instantly glad Tía Rosa had invited him. Where his own family was cold and rigid, Elena’s was warm and closely knit. It was obvious they loved one another deeply in the way they relied on and looked out for one another, though he might’ve liked advance warning that her uncle was going to grill him about their relationship.
Especially since he had yet to figure out a means of circumventing the Royal Marriages Act.
Once all the dishes were laid on the table, Elena grabbed a pitcher of water and began filling glasses. When she noticed him standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets, she traded the pitcher for a bottle of wine and a corkscrew.
“Do you mind?” she asked, offering them to him.
“Not in the least,” he said. He wanted to be included in the Rivera family dinner routine, if only this once. It was one thing to be a guest at the table, it was another to be treated as family, and he wouldn’t ruin the honor by spilling wine on Tía Rosa’s white linen tablecloth.
“Jack, Ethan,” Lena said, gesturing for the bodyguards to join them. “Can you fill the rest of the water glasses?”
The men exchanged a surprised look before turning to Liam for approval. He shrugged. “You heard the lady.”
He took care as he filled the wineglasses, opening one bottle after another. He’d never poured so many drinks in his life, but he didn’t stop until he’d filled the last glass at the head of the table, where Elena’s abuela, Valentina, was seated. The family matriarch sat with a straight back, chin lifted regally, her silver hair woven in a tight braid as if to proudly display the years of experience lining her face. She looked him over with an appraising eye as he poured, but said nothing. When he was finished, she shooed one of her grandsons from the chair next to her and indicated Liam should sit down.
Thankfully, Elena was able to squeeze in beside him. It was a tight fit, but he didn’t care if they had to rub elbows as long as she was at his side.
“Save some tostones for the rest of us.” Lena looked pointedly at Nia, who popped another golden goody into her mouth.
“Don’t worry, mi cariño. There’s enough to go around,” Tía Rosa said, handing Elena a platter stacked high with the little golden discs.
“What’s a tostone?” Liam whispered, not wanting to draw attention to his ignorance. Her cousins were already keeping a close eye on him and he was certain it would be a strike against him.
“Only the best culinary delight in the world,” Elena said, piling them on her plate.
Liam quirked a brow, admiring her ambitious appetite. “Care to elaborate?”
Elena passed the serving dish to her right and then dipped one of the little golden discs in green sauce and offered it to him. “Tostones with mayo-ketchup.”
“It’s a fried plantain,” Nia offered. “And I swear to God they’re better than se—” She paused, as if remembering there were children in the room. “Um, donuts.”
Elena stared at him expectantly, so he took the proffered treat and bit into it, an explosion of flavor coating his tongue. It reminded him of a french fry, only better. Elena was right; in all his travels he’d never had anything like it. He popped the rest of it into his mouth, savoring the hint of garlic in the sauce, and grabbed another one off her plate.
She tossed her head back and laughed, exposing the curve of her delicate neck. He loved seeing her laugh like that, knowing the weight of her problems had been forgotten, at least temporarily.
Maybe indefinitely.
Based on the numbers she’d quoted on the drive over, it sounded like EVA was back in the black, and he couldn’t have been more pleased by the news. The last thing he wanted was the threat of bankruptcy hanging over her head as they got to know each other better. Elena was an independent woman and despite the fact that her recent financial difficulties were entirely his fault—her ex’s frivolous lawsuit notwithstanding—he knew she wouldn’t have taken a dime from him to correct them.
Despite all the difficulties in her life, she wasn’t looking for a prince, or any man, to sweep in and save her. She was determined to do it on her own, and he admired the hell out of her for it. Sure, she’d let him pose as her fake boyfriend, but he knew even that had grated on her pride. He had a feeling she would’ve shuttered her doors before she asked for help, even though it would’ve gutted her.
“Lena has to get all the tostones she can while she’s here because the last time she tried to make them herself, she nearly singed her eyebrows off,” her cousin—Natalia?—said with a teasing smile.
Elena shrugged. “Who knew there was such a thing as overheating cooking oil?”
