Page 60 of Fated Mates and How to Seduce Them
André gathered him up in an embrace, hugging him tight enough to leave bruises. “It’s fine. I’ll stay in America with you. I won’t leave you.”
It coalesced sharply in his mind. Those words, coupled with this desperate hold of André’s, formed the overall picture.He’s afraid to leave me alone.
Oh shit.
Ian held him back, arms around his waist, not sure what to do about this. He never once suspected his usually confident lover would harbor any insecurities. Especially not between them. It disturbed him to see André like this, insecure and unhappy. He didn’t know how to fix it, either. Start with reassuring him? “André, if you need to go, it’s fine. I’ll still be here when you get back.”
“No, I can stay.” He got a stubborn set to his jaw.
“Your mother thinks otherwise. I admit I don’t know the full situation—”
André shook his head and tried to burrow in deeper. “No, it’s fine. I won’t leave you. I’ll stay. I can handle things from here.”
Nothing he said would budge André from this stance.
André pulled back and kissed him, chaste and sweet. “It’s fine, I promise. Now, I know you’re hungry. There’s rice, veggies, chicken—stir-fry should be easy and quick. How does that sound?”
Pushing at this moment wasn’t the right tactic. Ian let it go for now and forced a smile. “Sounds fine, but…do you know how to cook?”
“I’m not a helpless rich boy. Well, I kinda am, but Mary taught me some basic recipes so I can spoil you.”
That earned him a side eye. “I’ll help.”
The tension in André’s shoulders relaxed a hair, and he lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t trust me to cook.”
“Let’s just say seeing is believing.”
“Ouch. I think I just took HP damage.” André smiled, but it was dimmer than usual, stressed. He, too, was trying to move past this almost argument.
Ian had a sinking feeling this could be trouble. If he didn’t handle it right, this fixable thing would blow up in both their faces.
Just how did he fix this?
Chapter 17
The getaway trip flew by, and Ian was back in Minneapolis before he knew it. He’d tried various times to get André to explain the issue with his mom, but André would either distract him from the topic or dismiss it. He wasn’t willing to talk about it.
Ian would have let it go, except Mrs. Castor kept calling or texting throughout their trip.Shethought it was a problem for André to stay, and she didn’t strike Ian as a willful or selfish parent. If she thought André should go to whatever this event or meeting was, he should probably go, but André wasn’t budging. He never said anything overt, but Ian gathered the distinct impression that he was the reason André wouldn’t leave.
And that…was not a good thing.
Ian didn’t know how to fix it. He did know he had to try, and the first step was understandingwhyAndré had to go to France. Since André wouldn’t tell him, he’d go to the other available source.
Without Mrs. Castor’s number, Ian had no way of contacting her directly, but he was friends with Felix and had his number. He messaged Felix and asked for the best way to arrange a meeting with her. Felix suggested her secretary, as he was in charge of her schedule, which sounded reasonable. Afterexplaining who he was, Ian made the appointment for the next day and prayed the situation didn’t blow up in the meantime.
The day had flown by, and with now five minutes left till the appointment, Ian felt like butterflies were duking it out in his stomach. He kept trying to tell himself he had no reason to be nervous, but apparently, he sucked at pep talks. He knew André’s mother was kind and fair—and she had a good impression of him—but he didn’t know if she was currently mad at him because her son had dug in his heels.
It had taken some maneuvering to get this appointment with her at her actual office. Ian did not want André to overhear this conversation. Just in case it went very wrong.
As expected of a fashion designer’s office, it didn’t have the cold, corporate design of bland art and thin carpets. Her office was overrun with fabric samples, catalogs, and one whole wall dedicated to an art table with markers and designs pinned up on the board. It was much more friendly than he’d anticipated, with a lived-in feel.
In the midst of all of this, dolled up in a navy blue dress, bishop sleeves pushed up to her elbows, sat Mrs. Castor. She glanced up with a smile as he paused in the doorway, looking entirely pleased to see him.
“Ian! Hello, come in. It surprised me when my secretary told me you wanted to see me here this afternoon.”
Oh, thank god, she wasn’t mad at him. Ian’s nervousness dropped by half. “Yes, I thought it better. I didn’t want to risk André overhearing.”
Her smile morphed into a light frown. “I see. Well, come, sit down. Would you like some tea? I just made a pot.”
