Page 80 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim
“Very good.”
Creole mustard? In a drink?
When we’re alone, I ask, “What did you order?”
“Our version of a Bloody Mary,” Dorian responds.
“Both of you?”
When he nods, I go on, “And the beef broth?”
“Dorian tweaked the regular recipe for months.” Brennan shrugs. “He even figured out how much to reduce the broth.”
“Control freak much?”What madness made me say that?We’ve mostly been getting along this morning, but I don’t seem to be able to resist.
He lifts an eyebrow. “You haven’t begun to find out.”
Since I have a cat in my lap, Dorian reaches across me to fasten my safety belt.
At his touch, my entire body tingles as if electricity has arced through me, and my breath catches. God, I wish he didn’t have this kind of effect on me.
Calypso meows in protest, but she doesn’t bother moving.
“Need anything else?”
For you to keep some distance between us.“I’m good.”
With a wicked grin, he sits back, and I exhale my gratitude for the reprieve.
I’m not sure I like the considerate part of his personality. It would be easier to hate him completely if he was always an asshole.
A few minutes later, the attendant returns. My mimosa is served in a champagne flute that’s engraved with the initials VI. For Vale Imports, I assume. Which would mean this is Dorian’s private plane and not a charter or something he’s borrowed.
As for the Bloody Marys… I’ve seen less food on a buffet. The glasses are rimmed with some kind of salt, and they’re overstuffed with garnishes: olives, shrimp, bacon, and what appears to be andouille sausage. “That’s quite a feat of engineering.” Even from where I’m sitting, I can smell the spiciness of the cocktail.
“You’re welcome to try it.”
“I’m not sure I’m that brave.”
Once our beverages are tucked into place with napkinsbeneath them, Brennan breaks off a piece of bacon for Calypso. “May I give it to her?”
“You’re going to spoil her.”
“She deserves it. Like you.”
After a cautious sniff, she devours the treat.
“Is there anything you need?” the flight attendant asks.
Surprisingly Dorian looks to me for confirmation before shaking his head.
“In that case, we’ll be underway in just a few minutes.”
Neither of my men seem concerned about rules or regulations, beyond fastening our safety belts, and they don’t ask me to put Calypso under my seat.
As we taxi, I take another sip before tucking my drink into its holder where it’s safe.
In a shockingly short amount of time, we’re airborne.
