Page 69

“And?” He turns to me in the driver’s seat. Dressed in all black, his shirt is open at the top, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his sculpted chest along with his gold chain.

“I know you’re famous, but how did you get a table so last minute?”

He shakes his head. “You just don’t get it, do you, Princess? But since it’s your birthday, I’ll let you off.”

The valet opens our car doors, and I climb out. Tonight, I’m wearing my favorite dress with a corset bodice. The red lace skirt fans out from the waist, stopping just above my knee. I’ll be the first to admit I struggled to zip it up. Either I’m putting on weight, or my belly is growing, and at almost nine weeks pregnant with twins, I guess it’s no wonder.

“Don’t get what?” I say, taking the hand he’s offering me and walking inside.

“I didn’t book this last minute.”

My heart trips out as the host guides us to our table, set up with a small lamp in the center. “You’ve been planning this?”

How many more times is this man going to surprise me? But more than that, how many times am I going to surprise myself? A man booking a table well in advance of my acceptance, assuming I’d say yes or even want to go with him, would be the biggest red flag for me.

And here’s the real kicker in all this—even though I insisted we’d be going as friends, a growing part of me wishes tonight was more than that. The last time I was at a restaurant with a man, I was searching for an opportunity to let him down gently. Yet tonight, I’m cussing myself for putting the brakes on and backing away.

Jensen declines the host’s invitation and instead pulls out my chair. “Take a seat, Princess.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I have a confession.”

Now seated, he pauses with a glass of water to his mouth. “What’s that?”

“You once asked me if I thought I was always right when it came to you. And I said yes.”

“You did. I think it was right before we fucked.”

I pinch my thighs together for the hundredth time tonight and steady myself.This man.“Well, actually, I don’t think I know much about you at all.”

He smiles a triumphant grin. “You’re forgiven. Not many people do.”

“Oh, it wasn’t an apology. It was a statement.” I return his smug smile and tear a piece of warm bread from the baskets provided, dipping it in the selection of oils. “Not even Jessie?”

He shrugs. “Kind of. He knows more than most. Just like I do about him.”

Jensen successfully gets under my skin, but the way I want to tear away at the wrapping and reveal the real man beneath is profound. “I get that. I’m a pretty closed book myself.”

Picking up the oil I keep dipping into, he slides it across to me so I have it all to myself. “You don’t say. I don’t think even Luna and Felicity know the full Katherine Monroe.”

I quirk a challenging brow. “And you think you’ve got me all figured out.”

He nods, chewing around some bread himself. “Only one part I’m struggling with.”

“What’s that?”

“Your family. Specifically your parents.”

My stomach drops. I’m reluctant to talk about myself, but I’m dead set against discussing my parents. The restaurant is hot and clammy all of a sudden, and my dress feels even tighter than when I fought to do up the zip.

My heart races for all the wrong reasons when I finally look back at Jensen. “Don’t even go there. They just are the way they are, and they’ll never change.”

His jaw visibly tightens, and I watch the way he swallows his mouthful, like a dog ready to pounce for threatening something he’s desperate to protect.

He sits back in his chair and scratches at his temple, and I know he’s slowly working out the reasons why I keep myself so locked away.

Eventually, he sits forward, his thick forearms resting on the table, his hands clasped together, as he pins me in place with his brown eyes.

I’m powerless to move as I wait for the question I know is coming.