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My head whips around to look at him.
His jaw is clenched but he simply nods. “Fine.”
This is absolutelynotfine.
I am not flying across an ocean to go on my first dateeverto placate myfiancéwith theman I’m in love with.
Holy. Crap.
“No,” I say firmly. “I need mysister. I’ll need help with my hair and picking out clothes and advice…before and after. Debriefing. Girl talk. Just…no. It has to be Astrid.”
I’ll have to actually dress for these dates, I suppose, in case we’re photographed. It will have to look like I’m trying. So Astrid can help with that. I know how to dress for business meetings, cocktail parties, royal engagements, the theater, weddings…surely a date falls somewhere in the midst of all of that. But I’m not sure. I definitely need Astrid for this. Though I’ll have to finally confess to her that I’ve never dated. But she won’t judge. It will be fine.
But it cannot be Jonah. Not only because these “dates” are going to actually be business meetings wrapped up in a little bit of “so this is how it feels to be appreciated, as a woman, by a guy who isn’t being forced to spend time with me by his grandfather” but because I can’t fly forseven hourson a private plane, just the two of us, and then spend time in D.C. with Jonah Greene.
He’s uncomfortable. He regrets the kiss. He thinks I’m a pathetic, needy woman who mistakes physical attraction for love and takes a simple birthday kiss and turns it into a life-altering experience.
I’m not those things but he wouldn’t know that since he hasn’tspoken one word to me in a month.
But most of all, while these are business meetings to me, Jonah sees this as a chance to get me married off for real.
Torin’s shaking his head. “Jonah is perfect for this.”
“How? How is Jonah perfect for this?”
“Obviously you’ll just pay to have your hair done and you’ll have a stylist help with picking out new clothes. Jonah will have my credit cards,” Torin says. “And he can definitely give you advice. He’s aguy. Getting a male perspective will be even better than Astrid’s.”
I stare at Torin.
My fiancé is also going to pay for new clothes for my dates with other men.
How nice.
And the man I’m in love with will be giving me advice about how to act and talk and react to these men.
“Just go to dinner and be yourself,” Torin says, obviously trying to give me a pep talk. “But add in some flirting.”
“I don’t know how to flirt.”
He looks at me like I just said the sentence in Arabic. “What?”
I lift a shoulder. “I don’t flirt.”
“What? How?” His frown deepens. “You’re a beautiful, intelligent, interesting woman. How can you not know how to flirt?”
“Italkto men. About business and common interests. I don’t need to flirt.” I lift a brow. “I’ve been kind-of engaged.”
“But…” Torin looks at Jonah with a confused look, then back to me when his friend says nothing. “Can you ask someone how to do it?”
“How to flirt?”
“Yes.”
I roll my eyes. “You know, as my fiancé, you should be happier that I haven’t flirted with a bunch of other men.”
Torin rollshiseyes.
Then Jonah mutters something under his breath, then says louder, “Jesus Christ, seriously?”