“In that case…” I wave to the bartender, who’s serving someone to my right.
“Are you okay?” He places his hand lightly against the small of my back, his eyes scanning my face as if he can see Ella’s words echoing in my mind. Of course he can sense that something’s wrong.
“Mm-hmm.”
When I keep my gaze lowered, he jerks his chin, then obnoxiously moves his face closer until his nose is an inch from mine. “Did the witch put a spell on you, Princess Amelie?”
“No, Prince Ian.”
“What did you and Ella talk about?”
“Just chef stuff.” The tip of his nose grazes mine. “You’re kind of invading my space.”
“I’m making up for all the time we lost when we were so, so far apart.” He grins proudly, and I can’t help smiling myself. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“A little.”
“How about now?” he asks as he squishes my nose with his. “Better?”
“I swear your brain stopped developing too early.”
“Closer?”
I giggle once his forehead presses against mine. “Stop trying to make me laugh. I’m not sad.”
“Youlooksad, though.” His forehead pushes mine until I’m forced to take a step back, and his arms tighten around me. “You know I can’t have that.”
“Stop it—Ian!” I shriek when he keeps pushing. “You come any closer and I’ll kiss you again.”
“You kiss me again and I’ll fuck you right here, right now.”
With my smile softening and a jolt of electricity striking my body, I lean back just enough to look into his eyes. I knew it. I knew he didn’t give up on me. “I still owe you drinks from our friendly date. Can I buy you a glass of wine?”
His eyes dip to my lips as he nods. “It’s about time.”
I lean forward and gently press a kiss on him, his mouth responding to mine with the same slow, exploring pace. His hand bunches in my dress as our bodies press together, and once he lets out a lovely, low grunt, I lean back.
Phase one of the plan is complete.
We order a glass of Château Pape Clément 2017 for me and some type of beer for him, and once the bartender gives us our drinks, Ian’s full attention is on me again. This is it. It’s time.
Phase two.
Squaring my shoulders, I force myself to stare into his expectant eyes, exuding as much confidence as I can possibly muster. It feels like all eyes are on me, and I’m sure they’re not, but my cheeks turn as red as the glass of wine I just ordered. It doesn’t matter: What I have in mind is the perfect way to kick tonight off. I won’t back down, won’t overthink it. In fact, I hope the night will end with me being unable to think anything at all.
“So…” I press myself against him, his eyes rolling down my décolletage lasciviously.
“Yes, Amelie?”
I gently pinch his dark blue sweater. “Our outfits match tonight.”
While he glances dubiously at my black dress, my hand meets his. His eyes widen slightly as they fixate on mine, and after a quick glance at his hand, he withdraws it and pushes it into his pocket, my blue panties tucked between his fingers.
“My favorite color,” he mumbles.
Just as I entwine my fingers with his, Pamela walks over to us. “Hello, you two!” she says, a little louder than necessary. Then, probably noticing the tangible tension, she adds, “Is everything okay?”
Ian’s mouth opens but he seems unable to answer, as no sound comes out. His eyes roll down my legs, then back to my face.