The server had lit a candle. The soft glow painted flickers of golden light against Axel’s cheekbones and brow and mouth. His eyelids blinked once, slowly. Almost suggesting pity at how she was grasping at straws.
“You’ll still have thirty thousand dollars and a story you can never tell,” he said dryly.
She choked slightly and pulled her spoon from her mouth. “Lucky me.”
Thirty thousand dollars was not chump change, but it would only give her breathing space. Deeper pockets could alter the course of her father’s care altogether, vastly improving the quality of his golden years.
She rowed her spoon in her soup.
“Could I really afford to move Dad into a senior building?” she asked tentatively. “Aniceone?” Because she’d seen the ones she could afford, and it was another reason she’d started dancing at Martini’s.
Triumph flashed in Axel’s fierce blue eyes, telling her she’d tipped her hand, but it was too late to backtrack now. “The level of care you can offer him will astound you,” he assured her.
He was stepping right on her Achilles’ heel. She knew he was manipulating her with her emotions because it had happened once before. This time was different, though. It wasn’t about her fearing abandonment. It was actually a fierce desire to give back to the man who had raised her and given her a warm and loving upbringing. Paul might be dependent on her now, but for most of her life he had been her safety net. He had done his best to give her a solid foundation to launch from. It wasn’t his fault she had flubbed it.
“All I have to do is marry you?” she asked tentatively. “And meet my birth father?”
“We have to stay married a year. You’ll behave as my wife in public.”
“Where do you live?” she asked curiously.
“Vorstoben’s head office is in Berlin, but I have a number of residences that you can retreat to. We don’t have to live in each other’s pockets.”
A number of residences…
It was mind-boggling. Nothing about this made sense.
“What about…” Her voice dried up.
His attention lifted from his plate and settled on her in a way that was almost as physical as feeling him press her into a mattress. He was attractive. She couldn’t help but be aware of that. She could cut her finger on the edge of his jaw, and those masculine lips would kiss it better.
Her pulse fluttered at the mere idea of his lips against her fingertip.
She looked away, embarrassed. She’d never experienced anything so carnal. An inappropriate fantasy of walking around the table and straddling his lap came into her head. He looked strong enough to pick her up and carry her to the sofa from there.
The corners of his mouth dug in, making her think he could see her thoughts like he was watching a film. She couldn’t tell if he was amused or satisfied or if that reaction was something more reciprocal.
“When I said I want you, I meant it.” His gaze slid to her mouth, and her blood turned to fire.
She knew when men were ogling her, and this wasn’t that. He wasn’t looking at her like a source for his sexual pleasure. He was looking at her with a mixture of intent and appreciation. As though they already had secrets between them. Delectable, seductive secrets.
“I’d rather you came to me with your own wants.” His features took on a more concrete implacability. “Managing public opinion around your recent occupation will be difficult enough without you partaking in extracurriculars.”
“Excuse me,” she blustered, erotic thoughts scorched away by an indignant blush. “You’re making a lot of assumptions. I don’t partake in extracurriculars. I dance for money, but that’s all I do for it. I don’t go home with men. Not for money or recreation. So don’t presume you can take possession ofmealong with everything else you think I can get for you.”
“I’m only making clear that if you do have an itch, you’ll come to me to scratch it.”
“Keep dreaming,” she muttered but only got an unimpressed mouth twitch in response. “I haven’t even agreed to marry you, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“I noticed.” He switched out their soup for the entrees, lamb chops with asparagus and cherry tomatoes atop ravioli. The sauce smelled like mint. “What else do you need besides the arrangements for your father? I can pay off your student loans.”
“That’s what the credit card is for.” Those loans had been hanging over her like an anvil on a fraying rope, but they were hers to pay. Actually, they were Todd’s, but paying them off was a punishment to herself for being so stupid. She wouldn’t make them anyone else’s problem.
“I’ll clear them along with your father’s mortgage. Call it a wedding gift. Shall we discuss your allowance?”
“I’m not twelve.”
“Stipend? What do you want to call it? It’s only for budgeting purposes. You’ll have leeway to overshoot it.”
