“You’re going?—”
“I’m going wherever the fuck I want, Eric. My safety isn’t your responsibility. It never has been.” Now, she pushed against his chest.
Eric released her, masking his relief. She blinked a few times, and he didn’t think it was only because of the raindrops that clung to her lashes. She was surprised he’d let go.
Eric took several steps back, pulling out a bistro chair and sinking into it, wincing as water soaked the ass of his pants. He wanted to show her that he could, he would, respect her desires and choices. If she didn’t want him touching her, he’d stop.
At least until the next time she said something stupid and he tried to shake some sense into her.
“You really didn’t know the plan?” she asked.
“No, I didn’t. I don’t like it but I need to trust that even if you have no fucking sense of self-preservation…”
“You were doing so well there for a moment.”
He looked up, glaring, as her lips twitched in an irritating smile.
“You may not have any sense,” he shot back, making her eyes narrow, “but you’re smart enough to have people around you who do.”
“You don’t trust me to look after myself, but you trust me to pick knights and security officers who will make up for my idiocy?”
“Exactly.”
Nikolett called him several rude names in Hungarian—he’d been learning the language, and started by learning the insults, figuring those were the ones he’d hear most often. And he was right.
“Eric,” she snapped, “you still haven’t answered. Why are you really here?”
“I told you?—”
“That’s bullshit. You came to interfere.”
“I didn’t even know about this asinine plan until you told me five fucking seconds ago!”
“Then what are you here to interfere with? My life in general?”
“No. I’ve acknowledged that you ended our personal relationship and I’m respecting?—”
“Don’t you dare put this on me!”
“I’m not putting anything on you, I’m trying to tell you I?—”
Her expression shifted. “You found out about the bachelorette game in Hungary.”
Eric closed his mouth, opened it. “What?”
Something almost cruel sparked in her eyes. “Is that why you’re here, Eric? You found out I’m actively looking for my spouses?”
His whole body flushed cold then hot. “You’re what?”
“There’s a board, like on a gameshow, with their pictures. And in the end, I’ll be married.” She all but purred the words. “To people I choose.”
He ground his teeth, swallowing the urge to remind her that as fleet admiral, he could veto her marriage. Him using his authority as fleet admiral to control their personal relationshipwas one of the main reasons they’d ended up here. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, do it again.
“I didn’t know that.”
“In fact, I met a nice man in a coffee shop. He gave me a cookie?—”
“He gave you a cookie?” Was that slang for something?
