“Shitty. Do you want to get out of here?” I asked abruptly. “Let’s go back to your place. I have ideas on how you could make it better.”
“I’m hungry, though. I was really looking forward to dinner.”
“We can stop at a drive-through on the way. Get your purse.” I stood up and dropped some cash on the table.
“A drive-through?” She wrinkled her nose. I linked my arm through hers, preparing to steer her to the door. It was a protective gesture I’d developed over time because of the paparazzi. They seldom left us in peace, and today was no different. As the doors opened a cascade of lights flashed around us. No doubt they’d been tipped off by the restaurant staff. I set my jaw. I was in no mood for this now.
“Are we taking my car or yours?” Angelique asked, angling her face away from the growing crowd of tabloid reporters bearing cameras and notepads. The red Porsche I had gotten her for her birthday was waiting near my Bentley. Horatio was buffing the chrome of the vehicle with a pride that bordered on paternal.
“Mine,” I replied without hesitation. “Your driver can follow.”
“I drove myself here,” Angelique replied, stilling under my glowering gaze. She liked to drive herself, liked to control the steering wheel. I could never understand it. She said it was something to do with being told what to do all the time. Driving was the one activity that passed the reins back to her. Frankly, I’d pick a driver over traffic any day.
“Fine. I’ll drive us back. Horatio will follow in your car. It’s a wonder we still bother to pay yours. You do all the work he supposed to do.” I hid my annoyance by taking her keys and tossing them to Horatio. He nodded in understanding as I climbed into the driver’s seat.
“So, you want to talk about it?” she pressed again.
“About what?” I feigned ignorance. I really didn’t want to rehash the nightmare I’d just lived through. I’d already divulged enough of my business plans to the woman at my side. But those had been different conversations. Back when I was riding high. I had no interest in sharing the news of my defeat with her.
She looked at me intently for a second then continued. “Don’t forget we have to stop at a drive-through.” The change of subject was a relief.
“I know,” I flung in response. My tone was brittle. I knew my mood had nothing to do with her, but I was struggling to stay civil.
As I turned the key in the ignition, Angelique exhaled and lay her head against the headrest. We continued the journey in silence, the air heavy with awkwardness.
Eventually she broke it. “Prince,” she placed her left palm on my thigh and squeezed, “I’m here if you want to talk.”
I smiled tightly and dragged in a long breath. Her palm rested there in silent reassurance. When we pulled into the drive-through, I joined the small queue of cars and brought the Bentley to a halt. It drew envious stares, but I didn’t give a shit. I placed my palm over hers. Her hand seemed tiny within mine. Almost too small to squeeze it, even gently. It made my guilt surge. This really wasn’t her fault.
“I apologize for being a brute, Angel. Forgive me?” I asked, raising her palm to my lips. I placed a light kiss in the center. Angelique cupped the side of my face soothingly.
“I forgive you. Still not ready to talk about it?”
I shook my head. It just wasn’t that easy.
“Alright,mon amour,” she whispered.
Finally, we pulled into her driveway. The electronic gate closed behind us as we pulled up before it.
I got out, carrying the bags of hot food, and Angelique followed. We entered the front hall house. I walked straight to the kitchen counter to deposit the bags.
“It’s my cheat day,” she reminded me lightly. As if I could forget. She was delving into one of the fragrant bags. Angelique worked like a Trojan to stay in shape. One day a week, however, she could splurge on food. Today, she had gone crazy with her order. Onion rings, chicken nuggets, a double-decker beef burger with mustard, and a giant slushie to wash it down. There was even a banana split and two crème wafers for dessert.
I watched as she flicked her hair over her shoulder. The move jostled the soft swell of her breast. Suddenly, food didn’t seem so important anymore.
“Can food wait? I told you I had other ideas.” I nuzzled her neck, littering small kisses as I moved. Angelique sighed and turned to face me. I reached for the hem of her shirt. She raised her arms to let me pull it over her head. There was something resigned about the gesture. I frowned at her, but she busied herself with my belt buckle. She was going through the motions. I could sense it.
Annoyance made my hand come up to palm her breast a little too roughly. Instead of flinching away, she moaned and pressed closer.
“I want you so badly,” I groaned against her ear hoarsely. I planted my hands on her waist, pulling her toward me with a rough jerk. She gasped. I dipped a hand under her trousers, kneading her ass. The globe was pliant beneath my touch. Perfectly shaped, it fit into my palm as if it was made for it. I was beginning to feel desperate to mesh her body with mine.
“I want you too,” Angelique responded with less enthusiasm. “Can we take this to the bedroom?” she asked, pulling back to give me a pleading look. The suggestion held no appeal.
“No. Here. I want you here. Now,” I said urgently. I kissed the creamy mounds that rose from her bra as I eased us onto the kitchen floor. “I'm going to fuck you right here.”
I’d meant to prepare her gently, but somehow the words emerged more like a warning.
"We have a huge bed, Prince," she gasped. She wriggled free from my insistent hands. I caught hold of her again. “This is unsanitary!” I narrowed my eyes. We’d done this before – the struggle for power. She seemed to relish it. And perhaps it was what I needed now.
