Page 23 of Bad Luck, Hard Love
“True,” he admits, reaching for the glass in front of him. The amber liquid swirls as he lifts it to his lips, watching me over the rim. “I’d like to change that. Tell me about yourself, Charlotte.”
“There’s not much to tell,” I shrug.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s true.”
He shakes his head at me. “You don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”
“Not really,” I confess. Terrance's influence still has a hold on me, a reminder of the years he treated me as nothing more than a decorative accessory, only valuable when displayed. Yet, as I speak, part of me questions whether there was ever more to my role than just his carefully crafted illusion.
“Let's begin with an easy question. Where do you hail from?”
“California.”
“Ah, makes sense,” he laughs. “Same here.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, I reside in the Los Angeles foothills. And you?”
“San Simeon. What brings you to Vegas?”
“Work,” he says, the word carries on a breeze that seems to take my troubles with it for just a moment. His face shifts into a mask of nonchalance, but I catch a flicker of something deeper, as if his work holds secrets I can't even begin to fathom. “A sort of business trip,” he continues, “And you?”
“Girl time with Minny,” I reply. “Though she’s here for a work conference.”
A smile softens his features, “See, that wasn’t so hard,” he teases gently. His words coax me from my shell, though I wonderhow much he can see through me, “What else?” he probes with an earnestness that startles me.
“I have a cat.” The confession slips out before I can stop it, as mundane as it is revealing. “He’s a pain in my ass.”
“Aren’t all cats?”
I laugh despite myself, the sound surprising me with its genuineness. “Shadow's particularly gifted at being demanding. He woke me up at six yesterday morning because he decided his food bowl was empty. It wasn't.”
“Shadow?” Thor's eyebrows raise. “Let me guess—black cat?”
“Completely original, I know.” I take a sip of wine, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. “What about you? Any pets?”
“Had a dog growing up. Buster. He was a German Shepherd mix who thought he was a lap dog.” Thor's expression grows distant for a moment, like he's seeing something I can't. “Been thinking about getting another one, but my lifestyle doesn't exactly lend itself to pet ownership.”
“What kind of work keeps you so busy?” I ask, genuinely curious about this man who seems to carry weight beneath his easy charm.
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, but he doesn’t answer my question. “Should we eat before it gets cold?” he suggests.
Thor grabs the empty plate in front of me and spoons food from the plates before handing it back to me. “I wasn’t sure what you like, so I ordered from the small plates menu.”
“This looks delicious. I really was expecting us to go downstairs to one of the restaurants. My treat, of course, considering what you did for us.”
“After what happened last night, I thought an evening away from the crowd downstairs might be a better option, and it’s my treat,” he declares.
I take a bite of the food. “This is amazing,” I murmur.
“I have a friend who is a chef here. Called in a favor.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
Thor chuckles. “Well, I have ways of getting what I want.” The playful glint in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine, stirring a desire I never knew existed.
