He was releasing her hands, then repossessed one to place it on his sleeve, hooking it through his crooked arm.
“Come on, Laurel,” he said placatingly, but with clear intention too. “Let’s just relax and enjoy the evening. Why not?”
He started to walk along the corridor, drawing her forward again.
Why not?His nonchalant words echoed in her head. She could have given a hundred reasons.
But she never said them.
Out of nowhere, she felt the fight go out of her. She didn’t know why and didn’t want to ask. Perhaps, she thought weakly, as Xander started to draw her forward along the corridor, and she went with him docilely, acquiescently, inexplicably, because it made no sense at all to go along with this, to give in to him like this. Maybe it was just for Dan’s sake. She could hear his little voice in her head, exclaiming in wonder and delight, calling her a princess.
He’ll ask me about it in the morning, want to know everything about it.
So she had to go along with it tonight, didn’t she?
Was that reason enough?
As she walked down the corridor, heels sinking into the soft carpet, burningly aware of her hand on Xander’s sleeve, her arm crooked in his, the trace of his aftershave, the closeness of him, she didn’t know the answer.
Knew only that her heart was beating faster, way, way faster than it should.
“Made your choice?”
Xander’s enquiry was polite. He was being uber polite all round. On his very best behaviour. Treading lightly as a cat and just as pleased with himself, his inner purring almost audible. He was here, dining with Laurel, and her beauty—finally revealed to him again in that show-stopping gown his son had chosen so sapiently—was taking his breath away.
She was going along with what was happening, and he was glad and grateful and appreciative. He said as much.
Her expression flickered as he spoke. “I’m doing it for Dan,” she said. “I don’t want to disappoint him.”
But she seemed to have accepted being here like this, and that was good enough for him, for now at least.
She glanced again at the ornate, gilded menu lying on the damask table in the elegantly appointed dining room, which was filled to capacity, everyone in black tie and evening dress. Laurel surpassed all the women present effortlessly.
She always will, wherever she goes.
His gaze rested on her, drinking her in. Happy just to do that.
“The scallops in saffron, I think,” she said now, in answer to his enquiry. “With the carpaccio to start.”
“I’m going for the lamb quenelles,” Xander said. “Terrine to start.”
He looked across at her. “What wine would you like with your fish? I’m thinking a red, but a white would be better for scallops.”
She shook her head. “I’ll have whatever you have. I’m not fussy. And it’s bound to be ferociously expensive! I dread to think what this evening is costing you.”
She spoke lightly, but it jarred a memory. When he’d first whisked her away on his yacht, though she’d been wide-eyed, she’d never mentioned money or cost, even when they ate ashore. She’d just accepted everything.
Then helped herself to Olympia’s bracelet.
He slammed down on his errant thoughts. They were unwelcome. Not here, not now. Banned for this evening. He wanted nothing to spoil it.
“I can afford it, Laurel,” was all he said, his voice dry.
“Even so…” she started.
“Even so nothing,” he stopped her, closing the subject down. “Laurel, like I said, this is your treat. Dan and I both want you to enjoy it, and that’s all there is to it. And I’ll be enjoying it too,” he reminded her.
Oh, I will indeed, purred the inner feline, pleased with itself. His gaze rested on her again, not wanting to tear his eyes away. Wanting to make the most of what he’d achieved, getting Laurel here—with Dan’s essential help—and looking so breathtakingly, heart-stoppingly beautiful.
