Page 61 of Bitten & Burned
“Only in my head. And only every time you look at me like you might actually laugh. It gives me hope.” The way he said it made my pulse skip—too light to be serious, too sincere to be a joke.
I smiled, but it faded almost immediately.
If only it were that simple. But nothing in my life had been simple in a very long time.
Anton would be the perfect person to run away with. It would be big smiles, good food, good sex… The kind of inference that warmed my skin just for thinking it.
I swallowed at that thought. Not that I knew—but I could guess by looking at him.
Anyone could.
“I can’t,” I said softly. Reluctantly.
His smile curved with just the faintest trace of something sad. It was gone almost before I could name it, replaced by his usual charm. “It’s just as well. I already own a boat.”
“Wait… what?” I blinked. “What kind of boat?”
“Darling, please,” he said with a grin. “Don’t ruin the mystery that is me.”
I glanced down at the wine bottle and then back at him. He wasn’t lying—fine vintage, indeed.
“Thank you,” I said, looking back at him. “For the wine, your company,… and the proposal.”
“It was my pleasure,” he replied. Then, with a softened voice: “And thank you for your gift, as well.” The softness in his tone brushed against me like a hand I almost leaned into.
I tilted my head. “What gift?”
He grinned broadly.
I laughed.
“That, right there.” The words landed warmer than the wine in my hand.
He gestured to me.
“Your laugh is like a song I want stuck in my head, Rowena.” My chest tightened at the thought of being something he wanted to keep.
I raised an eyebrow. “Is that a line?”
He smirked. “Depends… did it work?”
I tried not to smile. Failed.
“Maybe,” I said, voice soft.
He tapped two fingers to his temple in mock salute. “Then I’ll take my win and vanish like a gentleman.”
And just like that, he turned down the corridor and was gone.
I watched Anton go, the wine bottle cool in my hand, his words still echoing in my chest. I wasn’t sure if it was the wine cooling my palm or the man himself that left me warmer than before.
It wasn’t until I stepped back inside that I realized… I had no wine glasses. The obviousness of it made me huff under my breath, as if the conservatory had somehow failed me personally.
Of course I didn’t. I hadn’t exactly stocked the conservatory like a dining room. I suppose I could drink from a mug, orstraight from the bottle if no one was around. Privacy made even the smallest indulgences taste better.
I turned toward the side table, already preparing to find a clean mug—when there was a knock at the door.
I blinked. Four visitors in one evening? The universe had apparently decided my solitude was negotiable.
