Page 38 of The Princess Trap
“Look,” she sighed. “I’m not trying to be awkward. It’s just… You know what you need out of this, right? I don’t. So when it comes to backstory and all that shit, it’s up to you. As for the rest, the personal information—if you give me the list, or whatever Demi made, I’ll write it down for you.”
“But if we don’t talk,” he said, “we won’t become comfortable together. That’s important too.”
She arched a brow. “You think I can’t turn it on? You think I can’t flirt with you?”
I know you can. I wish you would. I wish you could mean it.
“No,” he admitted. “I know you’ll be fine with all that. But I—”
“Youare a bigger flirt than I am,” she said. “And we both know it.”
Ruben considered feigning outrage. Then he saw the dangerous gleam in her eye and decided not to bother. “Okay, fair enough. But if we were engaged, I wouldn’t just pull all my usual shit on you, would I? I’d be different.”
“How romantic,” she drawled.
At that moment, Agathe swept back into the room with a plate in both hands. “Here we go,” she trilled, setting them down with a flourish. “Now, I will be right back—“
Ruben stood, intending to help with the rest of the plates—Agathe had a rather poor grasp on appropriate portion sizes. Then he realised that Cherry was also standing, and his eyes narrowed. “You sit,” he insisted. “You’re a guest.”
“Exactly,” she countered. “Guests help. It’s polite.”
“No,hostsdo everything.”
“That’s ridiculous. You—”
“See, this is the kind of thing Demi means. We can’t just write down the shit on her list and get to know each other,” Ruben insisted. “We have to spend time together.”
Agathe appeared again. In the time it had taken them to have their ridiculous argument, she’d fetched a small mountain of muesli. And a platter of fruit salad. Jesus, she was really going for it.
“Fine,” Cherry said, sitting down slowly. She murmured her thanks to Agathe and grabbed a piece of toasted rye bread, looking at it as if it was some kind of alien substance. Finally, she shook her head and met Ruben’s eyes. “We’ll do this, then. We’ll eat together. We’ve both got to eat, after all.”
Ruben’s heart leapt. He was relieved, he told himself. He wanted this to go smoothly. That was all. “I’m usually out for lunch. And breakfast. Dinner?”
She arched a brow. “What do you do at lunch?”
“I’m at work.”
“Work?” She spluttered, reaching for a glass of orange juice. “You have ajob?”
He shrugged. “I have an occupation. Every man needs one.”
“Right… Okay. So, um… What should I do?”
Ruben tried not to be disappointed by the fact that she hadn’t asked about his job. “That’s up to you. You can go anywhere you want as long as you run it by Hans first, so he can deal with the security. And Demi will give you access to my bank account—”
“Why would I need access to your bank account? Aren’t you paying me?”
“Of course. But if you decide you want to spend the next few weeks, I don’t know, re-decorating my library—”
“You have a library?” she demanded, her voice sharp. “Where?”
“Ah, it’s nothing major. It’s just a room with a ton of books.”
“Whose books?”
He shrugged. “No-one’s. Agathe’s. I mean, she chose them, her and Demi.”
“Okay,” Cherry nodded. “Cool.” She downed her orange juice and stood. “I’m gonna go.”
