Page 24 of Pregnancy Clause in Their Paper Marriage
Which was what tonight was, after all.
‘Can I get you something, ma’am?’ the bartender asked, and Lana gave him a quick smile.
‘Snake Bite, please.’
As ever, a gleam of admiration entered the guy’s eyes. Women who drank whisky were always held in high esteem, Lana had noticed, but that wasn’t why she ordered the drink. She just liked whisky. ‘Coming right up,’ he said, and she swivelled on her stool to survey the room.
Christos was due to meet her here in ten minutes. She’d come early, needing the time to compose herself, stake out her ground. She’d already been upstairs to check on the hotel suite, make sure the staff hadn’t done anything romantic to it. No champagne chilling in a bucket, no rose petal scattered across satin sheets, thank you very much. Fortunately, the staff had followed her requests and the hotel room looked exactly as she wanted it to look—elegant but functional.
They werenot, she’d already decided, going to have a repeat of last night. Oh, she wasn’t going to go out of her way to avoid any pleasure, even if the idea of exposing herself again, feeling so vulnerable, so helpless under his hands, made her feel more than a little nervous. But the emotional side of things, when she’d talked about Anthony, when she’d told Christos how she’d been hurt—and then had seen the frozen look on his face? Nope. That was definitely not happening again.
Tonight it was all business, and it would be very pleasurable business indeed—but it was still business.
‘Here’s your drink, ma’am.’ The bartender slid the tumbler across the bar, and Lana took it with murmured thanks before tossing it back in one burning swallow. The man whistled softly under his breath. ‘You’re some sexy lady there.’
She gave him a quick, quelling look. The last thing she needed right now was that sort of comment. She’d been dealing with them all her life, since she’d hit puberty at all of eleven years old, and she’d learned that ignoring such remarks, while not always the most satisfying of choices, usually had the best chance of success.
Fortunately, she’d just seen Christos stride through the hotel’s lobby, and so she tossed a twenty onto the bar and walked away. His eyes gleamed as he caught sight of her coming towards him, but she sensed in him a hidden reserve, and she knew it was because of what she’d told him last night. Why on earth had she done that? Well, she certainly wouldn’t do it again tonight. Or ever.
‘Hello there, husband.’ Her smile was playful, her voice light, as she cocked her head. She knew how she wanted to play this now. How it needed to be. ‘I’ve made a dinner reservation in the hotel’s restaurant. Apparently, they do an excellent filet mignon.’
‘Do they?’ He arched an eyebrow, looking far too gorgeous in his navy-blue suit, a paler blue shirt and a silvery-grey tie. His hair was rumpled, his jaw freshly shaven even though it was six o’clock in the evening, and he smelled fantastic. ‘Why don’t we eat after?’
‘What?’ The word slipped out, a single syllable of shock and dismay, before she could stop it.
He shrugged, his eyes dancing, his smile slow and sure as his sleepy gaze lingered on hers. ‘I’m not that hungry.’
For food.
He didn’t say it, but she felt as if he had. A shiver ran along her skin, and her stomach clenched with both nerves and anticipation. This was not how she’d expected the evening to go. They were supposed to wine and dine each other, talk shop, laugh and chat, and by the time they went upstairs she would feel firmly in control of who she was—and who she wasn’t. And she would stay that way even as Christos peeled the clothes from her body, even as he played her body like an instrument, coaxing a tune of pleasure from every inch of her. It would bebusiness.
But clearly that was not how this was going to go, because Christos was already turning towards the bank of elevators.
‘Wait,’ she said, and he turned back, waiting.
‘Why the rush?’ she asked, forcing her voice to sound light. ‘We need to eat.’
‘Why not just get on with it?’ he challenged with a small shrug. ‘Because if we don’t, you’ll be winding yourself up all evening, getting less and less relaxed, not more so, which I know is what you think will happen, but trust me, it won’t. You’ll agonise about everything and by the time we’re eating dessert, you’ll be ready to snap.’ His mouth curved into a slow smile. ‘Not exactly the best way to start a seduction.’
It was true, Lana knew. Shewouldget tense, even tenser than she already was. He knew her so well, better than she knew herself. He started walking towards the elevators, his stride long and sure.
‘You don’t even know what room it is,’ she called after him, ‘or what floor.’
He slid a card out of his jacket pocket and held it up. ‘I have a key.’
‘What?How do you have a key?’
‘I’m your husband. I asked for one at the desk, and they gave it to me.’ He made it sound simple, but Lana suspected he’d had to do some smooth talking to get a key to the room that was reserved in her name only.
Whenever she thought she was in control, Lana realised, whenever she let herself believe that for so much as a second, Christos demonstrated otherwise.
‘Why do you need a key?’ she half grumbled as she followed him towards the elevators.
He glanced at her, his eyebrows raised. ‘Why don’t you want me to have one?’
‘It’s not that.’ It was a petty argument, and one she didn’t actually care about, except...she was trying to control things. And he wasn’t letting her. Why?
‘Well?’ he asked, eyebrows still raised, as they stood in front of the elevators. ‘Are we going to go or not?’