Page 28

What the hell do you wear to a popular fancy restaurant followed by a walk on the beach? It could be windy, which means a skirt or dress might blow up. I’ll also have to take off my shoes to walk in the sand. And with Rage, I can comfortably wear heels, so I really want to.

I’m still staring at my closet when there’s a knock on the door. I whirl, staring at the clock. I’m running late and he’s ten minutes early.

Shit.

Luckily, my hair and makeup are done—I just have to figure out what to wear.

Pulling my robe tight around me, I hurry to the door.

“Hey. I need a few more minutes,” I say as I throw it open.

“No problem.” He’s standing there looking like sex on a stick, biceps bulging through his button-down shirt.

“Make yourself at home,” I say before closing my bedroom door and going back to the offending closet. “Time to decide,” I murmur. I pull out a navy-blue dress with white piping down the sides. It’s fitted but slimming and I feel confident in it. I also have a pair of strappy white high-heeled sandals to wear with it.

I dress quickly, slipping my feet into my shoes and then staring in the mirror for a beat. This is as good as it’s going to get, and he’s either going to think I look nice or he won’t. I can’t control how he feels, and I have to remember that. As much as I like him, I still have to put my mental health first.

I barely know this guy. He only knows the basics about me and my past. The idea is to get to know each other. I understand that intellectually, but emotions are a totally different thing. And I don’t know that I’m as prepared as I think I am.

Because I really like him.

Rage lets out a low whistle when I walk into the room, eyes moving over me in what I can only describe as a possessive way.

“That’s a great dress,” he says, reaching out to press a light kiss on my cheek.

“Thank you.” I smile up at him, acutely aware of his hand at my waist. The way he’s looking at me. The heat radiating off of him even though he’s barely touching me.

“You going to be okay in those heels with your ankle?” he asks quietly.

“Ankle is fine, thankfully. And if we do go walk on the beach, I’ll take them off.”

“Good plan.” To my surprise, he takes my hand as we leave the apartment and waits for me to lock up. Then we take the elevator down and walk to the parking lot. His SUV is parked out front and he uses a key fob to unlock it, though he still opens the door and helps me in.

“Such a gentleman,” I say softly.

“I try.” He walks around to the driver’s side and gets in, then starts the SUV. “Do you mind the drive to Oceanside? This restaurant has great reviews.”

“Not at all. I go into Oceanside all the time. There are some great restaurants and I’ve been wanting to try this one.”

We talk about food and restaurants we’ve been to, and he’s just as easy to talk to when we’re out as he is at work. He’s well-read, well-traveled, and laid back, so it doesn’t feel like I have to fight to be heard.

I’m starting to relax by the time we get to the restaurant and, once again, he comes around to my side to get the door for me. He helps me out and then takes my hand, leaving the SUV with the valet and leading me inside.

It’s a Thursday night and the place is busy, but Rage made a reservation. We’re taken to a nice table in the back, overlooking the water, and I can’t help but get caught up in the romance of it all.

“Wine?” Rage asks, picking up the extensive list.

“Sounds lovely.”

He chooses a Joel Gott 815 Cabernet Sauvignon, surprising me with his knowledge about several of the wines on the list.

“There are perks to being a bodyguard to the rich and famous,” he says. “And having a good friend that’s married to royalty.”

I chuckle. “I imagine that’s true. Have you been to the palace in Limaj?” That’s where Daniil is from.

“Quite a few times. Usually not for fun, although there’s been some of that over the years. King Erik and Queen Casey are good people.”

“It’s interesting to hear you talk about an actual king and queen like they’re regular people.”