17
Amy
Ipull on my ‘Walmart wares’, as Alasdair called them, which are just jeans, a cardigan, and Converse. I’m trying not to rub my eyes from tiredness. I’ve already applied some mascara, and I don’t want to mess it up.
I sip on some of the juice that he sent yesterday as I wait for it to be nine. My stomach is in knots as my mind goes over the possible scenarios that could happen today. Alasdair didn’t say what we’re going to be doing, and that really makes me nervous. I don’t feel prepared, and it’s hard not to have flashbacks to that morning with my grandfather two days ago when I felt the same way and ended the day traumatized.
I grab a water bottle and my bag before heading downstairs to the lobby. It’s eight-forty-five, but I can’t wait around. I’m too nervous. I’d rather wait for him down there than in my room.
The lobby is already a hub of bustling activity, mostly people going to the hotel’s restaurant for breakfast and the cafe for their morning coffee.
There’s a group of tourists looking around the lobby, snapping pictures. I can’t say I blame them. With fine art on the walls, marble floors, and the sparkling chandelier, it’s a gorgeous sight. Not to mention all the flower sculptures, the lavishfurniture to lounge around on, and the plush rugs in the sitting areas. It’s a gorgeous place to be, even if I don’t feel like I belong.
I go over to the sitting area and lean against a marble pillar, not wanting to sit on the fancy furniture. I’d be anxious the whole time about staining it or something. People flutter about from place to place, the sound of their footsteps echoing throughout the open lobby. I glance at the chandelier that hangs over the seats. It’s not as grand as the main one by the front desks when you first walk in, but it still screamsopulence.
I’m startled out of my thoughts by a voice, low and deep, speaking over my shoulder. “What are you looking at, leannán?” I practically jump out of my skin. Mr. Irish Demon himself is leaning against the same pillar just behind me. He follows what my line of sight was, but doesn’t seem to know what to look at, his eyes flickering about, searching for something interesting.
I shift on my feet a little. “The chandelier.”
He turns to regard me with an arch brow. “The chandelier? What’s so interesting about that?”
I shrug. “It’s pretty.”
He chuckles. “You really aren’t used to extravagance, are you?” His eyes look me up and down, and suddenly I feel underdressed, even though he told me not to worry about wearing anything special. “I like your Walmart attire.” His gaze is intense, almost heated. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was attracted to me. But that’s laughable, since there’s nothing arousing about my baggy sweater and jeans. Even so, a thrill of desire spikes up my spine unexpectedly, and I have to shake off the lust that zips up my spine from his expression being so close to what I imagined in my horny daydreams yesterday.
“Thanks.” I tug on the sleeves of my maroon cardigan a bit, not sure if he was being sarcastic or not. “I hope it’s okay. I wasn’t sure how to dress since I don’t know what we’re doing today.”
His expression softens. It almost looks strange on him, like the muscles in his face aren’t familiar making that. “It’s fine. I hope you’ll enjoy what I have planned. Are you hungry?”
I think for a moment to assess my hunger levels, and then nod.
He chuckles and offers his arm to me. “Good. How does a light breakfast in the hotel’s tea room sound?”
I’ve only seen peeks of the tearoom, having passed it on the way to one of the restaurants with my grandparents. The classy white and gold decor had caught my attention. “Sounds nice.” I loop my arm through his.
He nods and pats my hand with his free one as he leads us through the lobby. My skin suddenly feels very sensitive and aware of his touch. “I’m glad, because I got a reservation for us. Speaking of food, did you like what I sent yesterday?”
I almost forgot to thank him for that, so I’m glad he brought it up. “It was wonderful, and a pleasant surprise. Thank you so much. It’s very thoughtful of you.”
He smirks a little, and I hate how it sends butterflies fluttering around in my chest.You’re being a silly, naive girl.“You’re welcome.”
I can’t help but notice how good he smells, or how nice the fabric of his button-down shirt feels against my arm, even through the fabric of my cardigan.
Once we step into the opulent dining room, Alasdair informs the hostess he has a reservation at nine o’clock under Alasdair. As the hostess leads us to our table, I’m not expecting the same chivalrous treatment that I received when we went to dinner with my grandparents. He has no reason to do so, since my grandfather isn’t here to spite.
He’s chivalrous anyway.
He releases my arm once we get to the table, and pulls out a chair for me. “Thank you,” I say softly, trying to sit down daintilyon the chair. How does one evendothat? How do rich girls sit? I glance around the room, trying to observe the people at other tables, watching how they hold themselves.
Alasdair clears his throat, bringing my attention back to him. Once my eyes focus on him again, he chuckles. “Ah, there you are.” He leans forward, gray eyes studying my face with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. “You’re a mysterious woman, do you know that?”
The comment catches me off guard. A huff of surprised amusement leaves my lips before I can stop it. “Me?”
His grin widens. “Yes, you. I can’t tell what you’re thinking from moment to moment. But Icantell that your mind is a fascinating place. Most people I can read like a book, but you…you’re different.”
I let out a low sigh. “Please don’t say that I’m not like other girls.” I fumble a bit, realizing I had actually just said that out loud. It wouldn’t do good to piss him off, especially first thing in the morning. “Um, I just mean that it’s kind of cliche, you know? I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Didn’t you?” He pours ice water from the jug the hostess left for us into fancy crystal glasses and takes a sip. “I think you meant exactly what you said.”
