“It’s delicious and you were right, unique.”
Rett poured himself a glass and sat back, his button-down white shirt stretching over his wide chest. Against the wide girth of the chair, he appeared almost regal, as if instead of a chair, we were seated in thrones.
“I chose this wine,” Rett began, “because of its similarity to you, Emma. Unique, highest quality…” He leaned forward and lifted the glass toward the candlelight. “See how the liquid shimmers?” His dark stare met mine. “It’s beautiful like you.” He took a sip, his Adam’s apple bobbing and the muscles in his neck pulling tight, an involuntary response to the tartness. A grin returned to his full lips. “Pursuing you has been fascinating. I’m aware of your quality and unique nature. Now that you’re here, the only parameter yet to decide is taste. However, I have no doubt that you too will taste delicious.”
My lungs burned with my caught breath as heat radiated from my cheeks. “That…it’s…inappropriate.”
His smile returned, this time gleaming from the black holes of his orbs. “No, Emma. It’s a perfectly appropriate thing to say to you, the woman who is about to be my wife.”
Chapter Five
My pulse kicked up as Rett’s words registered.
Yet how could such a statement truly register?
It was a proclamation with no basis in reality.
Lowering my glass of wine to the linen tablecloth, I laid my hands upon the table’s edge, preparing to push my chair away.
“Rett, this—”
The door opened and a second later, a parade of servers entered, thwarting my escape.
Once again, Rett’s full lips quirked in amusement, recognizing my failed attempt to flee. Within his dark stare, the reflection of the candles’ flames flickered.
“Mr. Ramses,” the oldest gentleman in the parade of servers said with a dramatic bow, “we have prepared your meal to your specifications. We do hope that you and your companion will enjoy.”
Ramses?
Rett…Everett Ramses.
The connection was made, yet I couldn’t speak.
I could—I was capable—it was that Rett was still speaking to the man.
“…thank you, Elijah. I’m sure it will be delicious as usual.”
Elijah turned my way and poured more wine into my glass. The other waiters placed plates before us and uncovered dishes of some of New Orleans’ traditional delicacies: barbecued shrimp, charbroiled oysters, and golden curry. Their unmistakable aromas swirled through the air, reminding me of my earlier hunger.
“Miss North,” Elijah said, “Mr. Ramses said it had been a while since you visited your home. Please let us know if we can bring you anything that isn’t offered.”
I inhaled, looking from Elijah to Rett.
I wanted to say that I could be offered my real name—O’Brien. I wanted to say that New Orleans wasn’t my home. Pittsburgh was where I’d called home since graduating from college.
However, it was clear that to do so would prolong this conversation. Therefore, I simply said, “Thank you, Elijah.”
By the time Rett and I were once again alone, the servers had heaped generous portions of each dish upon our plates. As close as I’d been to making an escape, the delicious aromas were making my stomach growl.
After the door closed, Rett looked my way. “Eat, Emma. You yourself said you were famished.”
“I was expecting French fries or onion rings, not a seafood smorgasbord.” I lay the spoon down that I had just lifted. “You’re Everett Ramses.”
He nodded. “I am.”
“Why do you keep referring to me as North when my name is O’Brien?”
“We will get to that.”