was trustworthy, not to have gotten where she had in the industry.
“It’s not unbelievable. I know how people in her world work. I mean… Klaus tells tales sometimes. Not about her, no… he just tells me stuff about certain chieftains and their sneaky habits.”
“Huh,” Cai grunted, his disdain for Klaus not doused. He sat waiting while I finished my food, his hands clasped together. “I wanna ask you something that might offend.”
“Go on,” I nodded, chewing through a cube of seasoned potato.
“You’ve modelled, surely?” He looked bashful, hiding behind his hand. What was his admission? That he thought I should be a model or that he didn’t date models on principle?
I tossed it off. “I did some catalogue work when I was at university. It was no big deal… in fact Kay did some too. Until she got the tattoos and I—”
His eyes narrowed and he drummed his fingers on the table, pushed his lips tight together but couldn’t stop himself saying, “You… what?”
“It’s too long a story to tell,” I revealed.
“Hmm. So, I’m not gonna have to defend my profession? It wasn’t that kinda situation?”
“It wasn’t I assure you. It was something completely out of anyone’s control.” I finished my starter and the plates were whipped away before I could even blink.
I briefly took in our surroundings while I considered whether to tell him what had happened to me. I got lost gazing at the ornate crystal chandeliers, ceiling carvings and the dark, wood-panelled walls.
Then his lobster and my Beef Wellington arrived, so we got right on down to it.
Except my inquisition was rife.
“Where did you grow up?”
He peered at me. “Connecticut, then New York. I’ve travelled a lot, though.”
“Yeah, where?”
“Australia, South Africa, Brazil, all over Europe and America. Dubai. I go to Miami a lot for the fashion work.”
“Just… work?” Not banging models…
“Yup, work. I work hard, I don’t get much time for tourist stuff.”
He ate his lobster with ease while I sliced through the most perfect Beef Wellington I’d ever tasted. His world was so different to mine.
“I’ve never been abroad, how sad is that?”
His eyes bugged. “You’re kidding me?”
“Nope.”
He set down his silverware and concentrated on his wine for a moment. “If you don’t mind me making an observation… I can see something happened, something you don’t ever talk about. You let it define—”
I drowned him out pretty quickly, indignation rising in my cheeks. “I could say the same about you. Like you said, naked.”
I stared down at my food and took a breath. He was going to incite the nastier side of me if he wasn’t careful—the defensive edge that didn’t want to talk about what was going on here. Or more importantly, what he might find out about me.
The background clinking of glasses and plates, along with soft voices, suddenly seemed ugly to me. The world closed in. I remembered.
I folded my arms and avoided looking at him, though I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was about three seconds away from taking my hand.
“I’ll make a deal with you, Kincaid. You don’t ask me uncomfortable questions, and I won’t either. If you do, I don’t know how I’ll react. I can’t promise I’ll stick around. I can’t even promise you’ll see me again. You don’t know…” I took a deep, deep breath, “…my upbringing wasn’t like yours.”
“You mean, your parents aren’t both dead?”
My head shot up, seeking his eyes.
I retorted, “This isn’t a contest.”
“No. I’m just saying, you assume you know what my upbringing was like, but you’ve no idea.” He fumed, frowning hard. His face appeared even more sculpted in anguish.
I gulped and looked down at my lap, the scrumptious dinner in front of me no longer appetising. How did we even get here? I felt ill for a multitude of reasons.
Your parents are dead… I forgot that. “You’re right, I’m
“It’s not unbelievable. I know how people in her world work. I mean… Klaus tells tales sometimes. Not about her, no… he just tells me stuff about certain chieftains and their sneaky habits.”
“Huh,” Cai grunted, his disdain for Klaus not doused. He sat waiting while I finished my food, his hands clasped together. “I wanna ask you something that might offend.”
“Go on,” I nodded, chewing through a cube of seasoned potato.
“You’ve modelled, surely?” He looked bashful, hiding behind his hand. What was his admission? That he thought I should be a model or that he didn’t date models on principle?
I tossed it off. “I did some catalogue work when I was at university. It was no big deal… in fact Kay did some too. Until she got the tattoos and I—”
His eyes narrowed and he drummed his fingers on the table, pushed his lips tight together but couldn’t stop himself saying, “You… what?”
“It’s too long a story to tell,” I revealed.
“Hmm. So, I’m not gonna have to defend my profession? It wasn’t that kinda situation?”
“It wasn’t I assure you. It was something completely out of anyone’s control.” I finished my starter and the plates were whipped away before I could even blink.
I briefly took in our surroundings while I considered whether to tell him what had happened to me. I got lost gazing at the ornate crystal chandeliers, ceiling carvings and the dark, wood-panelled walls.
Then his lobster and my Beef Wellington arrived, so we got right on down to it.
Except my inquisition was rife.
“Where did you grow up?”
He peered at me. “Connecticut, then New York. I’ve travelled a lot, though.”
“Yeah, where?”
“Australia, South Africa, Brazil, all over Europe and America. Dubai. I go to Miami a lot for the fashion work.”
“Just… work?” Not banging models…
“Yup, work. I work hard, I don’t get much time for tourist stuff.”
He ate his lobster with ease while I sliced through the most perfect Beef Wellington I’d ever tasted. His world was so different to mine.
“I’ve never been abroad, how sad is that?”
His eyes bugged. “You’re kidding me?”
“Nope.”
He set down his silverware and concentrated on his wine for a moment. “If you don’t mind me making an observation… I can see something happened, something you don’t ever talk about. You let it define—”
I drowned him out pretty quickly, indignation rising in my cheeks. “I could say the same about you. Like you said, naked.”
I stared down at my food and took a breath. He was going to incite the nastier side of me if he wasn’t careful—the defensive edge that didn’t want to talk about what was going on here. Or more importantly, what he might find out about me.
The background clinking of glasses and plates, along with soft voices, suddenly seemed ugly to me. The world closed in. I remembered.
I folded my arms and avoided looking at him, though I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was about three seconds away from taking my hand.
“I’ll make a deal with you, Kincaid. You don’t ask me uncomfortable questions, and I won’t either. If you do, I don’t know how I’ll react. I can’t promise I’ll stick around. I can’t even promise you’ll see me again. You don’t know…” I took a deep, deep breath, “…my upbringing wasn’t like yours.”
“You mean, your parents aren’t both dead?”
My head shot up, seeking his eyes.
I retorted, “This isn’t a contest.”
“No. I’m just saying, you assume you know what my upbringing was like, but you’ve no idea.” He fumed, frowning hard. His face appeared even more sculpted in anguish.
I gulped and looked down at my lap, the scrumptious dinner in front of me no longer appetising. How did we even get here? I felt ill for a multitude of reasons.
Your parents are dead… I forgot that. “You’re right, I’m
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