Page 22 of Bitter Prince
REINA
Arush of life bubbled in my veins and I squirmed, waiting for an answer. I couldn’t believe I’d asked him out, but it was too late to retract the words. Not that I wanted to.
I caught sight of the shadows fighting in his eyes as his masculine scent—lemon and green apples—wrapped around me and my nipples tightened.
Confusion clouded my thoughts and the warnings blared in my mind. I had literally just seen this man carry out an attack that left two others dead, yet all I could do was drown in his gaze that reminded me of the lost galaxies and stars. I couldn’t look away, even if that’s what he expected.
So I waited for his answer to my question while a whisper of adrenaline swam through my veins, as warm as the California sun. We stood toe to toe. His expensive-looking Italian leather shoes contrasted my pink Rothy’s. My preppy pink T-shirt—though Valentino—against his dress shirt. Both of us wore jeans, but where his looked tailored and hugged him close, mine were distressed and cut off mid-thigh.
“Dinner with you?” His English was perfect and very proper—British accent, not American when speaking English—with amusement touching his voice. His closeness and deep voice warmed my stomach, settling somewhere deep.
“Yes, with me,” I answered in a shallow breath as my eyes lowered to his lips. I wondered how he’d taste. Like gin and sin, maybe. I heard a car pull up, breaking through this man’s overwhelming hold over my thoughts.
“I’ll wait for you to finish yoga,” he finally said, but before I could get too excited, he added, “And take you home. You shouldn’t be out, roaming the streets alone. Did you forget what happened when you snuck out of your boarding school?”
I refused to be riled up. “I can and I will. I refuse to live in fear. Besides, I intend to grab dinner. So you can either sit and watch me, or you can join me.”
With that, I sidestepped him and made my way inside the building, hoping that the doors to the studio weren’t locked, seeing as I was almost fifteen minutes late now.
An hour of stretches, poses, and meditation later, and I was profusely sweating. All the while, I was aware of the familiar figure casually leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. His whole presence distracted me, yet I didn’t mind it. I needed the distraction, what with the attack I’d had a front-row seat to, resulting in two dead bodies and a lot of unanswered questions. I found myself unable to resist darting my eyes to Amon, catching the blue hues in his dark hair, wondering if he liked what he saw when I was in downward dog.
Each time our gazes met, there’d be a hint of a smile and something thick and dark dancing through the air, pulling us closer together. I couldn’t wait to talk to him again.
It felt like the shortest hour of my life, but at the same time, the longest.
Once done, I strutted over to him, giving him a playful eye roll. “You couldn’t resist dinner with me, could you?” He didn’t seem impressed, studying me with cautious eyes. “Don’t worry, Amon. It won’t be a date. We can even pay for our own meals if that makes you feel better.”
A sliver of displeasure passed through his eyes as he let his gaze trail down my body, then back up.
“Change out of that bodysuit, Reina.” Gosh, he was moody. No matter though. I wouldn’t be deterred by it.
Leisurely, I sauntered into the changing room, but the moment the door shut behind me, I rushed to shower and change into clean clothes with a newfound eagerness. I threw on the pink off-the-shoulder top I’d packed in my duffle, knowing that early June nights could be chilly.
When I came out, he was still in the same spot.
“Ready?” I breathed out, my heart thundering in my chest.
My breath was cut off when he reached his finger to trace the pendant sitting between my breasts. “Nice necklace.”
I lowered my gaze to the platinum chain where a Japanese kanji pendant hung daintily. It meant love and affection apparently. I hoped he didn’t think I knew the language, or anything about the culture, really. Why did I have it around my neck, then? Because it was my mother’s. Why did she have it? I had no idea. She gave it to me the day she died, and I couldn’t bear to part with it.
His finger still lingered, almost brushing my skin. My pulse sped up at his touch. Heavy tension filled the space, condensing the space between us.
“It was my mother’s.”
He didn’t say anything. Instead, he took my bag and threw it over his shoulder, uncaring that it was pink and girly. “Shall we?”
God, he was fascinating. His quiet confidence, his broodiness. And he moved with such precision, like his every move had an ulterior, higher motive. My heart beat faster with every step we took—I felt almost giddy. It felt as if we’d walked together a thousand times before, our feet synchronized despite our size difference.
As we walked out of the building, he led me to the garage and my steps faltered.
“We… we’re not going in your shot-up car, right?”
Amon’s gaze sparked, stopping to glance back at me. “I had a new car brought in just for you.”
Frustration rose in my throat, unsure if he was jesting or not. My tongue swept over my lips. “We could walk,” I suggested hopefully. “The exit to the sidewalk is that way.”
He resumed walking and I had to pick up the pace to catch up to him. He stopped by a black Maserati and I let out a relieved breath. Anything was better than a car full of bullets.
