“I’ll be right back.”
He’s got the ring I picked out for her on a little velvet pillow. Seeing it doesn’t bring the feelings of joy I’d anticipated it would. The waiter gives me a curious stare. “Now, sir?”
Why do I feel apprehensive about this? Am I making a mistake? Is it too soon?
I blow out a breath. If I let her go, I may never get her back. I know in my heart that I love her. I know in my heart she loves me back.
“With dessert, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
I return to the table, to two sizzling platters of steak, asparagus, and roasted potatoes, with a side of wild greens drizzled with the house salad dressing.
“This looks amazing,” Katie says.
“Wait until you taste it. The steak melts in your mouth, like butter.”
I delight in every detail as she eats her food, her little sighs of contentment as she tucks in. I enjoy watching her eat more than I enjoy eating myself.
Finally, it’s time for dessert. The waiter and a few of his colleagues stand behind him. I give him a nod, and he begins walking toward us. Nerves rise in my belly, the likes of which I’ve never felt before.
Katie’s talking to me, but I can hardly hear her, I’m that intent on what has to happen next, when a door opens to my left, and I look in surprise to find a barrage of reporters with cameras and microphones piling into the restaurant, right into our private moment.
I push back from the table, hold my hand up to the waitstaff, and turn to the reporters. “Out,” I snap. “You step one foot toward this table, and I will break that camera you’ve got around your neck and call the police. You’re trespassing on private property.”
But they don’t heed me and head straight toward Katie. I grab the first guy by the collar and toss him to the side, but another comes straight at me, his flash blinding me. Before I know what I’m doing, I deck him. More flashes, Katie screams, and I feel strong hands on me pulling me back.
“Let me handle this, Mr. Morrow.” One of my security men’s pulling me back to the table with Katie. “Please. Your reputation, sir.”
“How do you feel about her using you, Mr. Morrow? As the premise of her book?”
What are they on about? My body goes rigid. I turn to Katie, who stares at me with such wide eyes. The guilt written across her features hit me in that nagging place in my gut that’s been bothering me all night. Something is off with her book and I need to know more.
I wave the waitstaff back. This isn’t the time for a proposal.
“Let’s go,” I gesture for Katie and snap my fingers. “Now.”
She rises to her feet, and her eyes flash at me. “I’m not a trained dog, Darius.”
Reporters flash more pictures, but my security detail’s pushing them away.
I grab her by the elbow, but she yanks it away and stomps toward the exit. Anger rises in me and I so want to drag her across my thighs and spank her in front of all these flashing cameras until she’ll listen to reason, but I know this isn’t the time. I know this, she just frustrates the living hell out of me sometimes with her maddening habit of running away.
We walk in stony silence toward the privacy elevator and ride it to my penthouse without speaking. It isn’t until we get to the top floor, she finally turns to me.
“It isn’t true,” she says. “But part of it is.”
“We’ll talk when we’re in the apartment.”
She opens her mouth again to speak, but my patience has waned. I hold up my hand to her. “Not now.”
She clamps her lips shut, fuming, but obeys.
We get inside, and I can’t help myself. I push her against the door and wrap my fingers around the back of her neck, caging her in, forcing her to look at me, to listen.
“This is part of my life,” I say to her. “Media. News. Following me. No privacy. That won’t ever change.”
She blinks, then nods, and her eyes grow a little softer.
“You will always come to me and talk. You won’t run or hide or jump to conclusions. Do you understand me, little girl?”
“Yes,” she says. “Yes, of course.” Her voice catches a little.
I kiss her, and she comes up on her toes, wrapping her arms around my neck while I hold her. In the background my phone and hers buzz, over and over again, until I pull away from the kiss in anger.
“Just answer it,” she says with a sigh. “Let’s deal with this so we can move on.”
She’s right. I release her, but take her hand, and we walk toward my desk where the two phones lay.