Had he somehow guessed what she’d just been thinking?
“What?” she said in a strangled voice.
He sat down on the bed beside her. “Here.”
He placed a silver tray in her lap that held a silver coffeepot, chocolate croissants, fresh fruit, fried potatoes and orange juice. Staring down at it, her mouth watered. “You brought me breakfast?” she said numbly.
“You looked hungry last night.”
She was. But something else caught her eye. Surprised, she reached across the tray to a bud vase that held a tiny pink rose. She breathed in the delicate scent of the bloom. “And this? Am I supposed to eat this?”
He shrugged. “It reminded me of you.”
“You picked a flower?”
“I do know how,” he said dryly. “I have my gardener grow them in our greenhouse in winter.” He paused. “My grandmother grew polyantha rose bushes, fairy roses. They were the only bit of beauty we had then—her weeping rose tree.” He looked at the tiny flower. “It’s so delicate, the bloom’s barely bigger than my thumb, and yet it’s stronger than it looks. It resists disease, poor soil. Even men.” He gave a slight smile. “The thorns are vicious.”
She looked at the flower, then him, still shocked.
“It’s my way of saying I’m sorry for the way I kidnapped you,” he said with a sigh. “If I’d known you were innocent, that you hadn’t deliberately set out to replace Laetitia, I would have…” Leaning back, he raked the back of his dark hair with his hand, then gave her a crooked grin. “Well, I would still have kidnapped you, but I’d have been more courteous about it.”
“Oh,” she said faintly. It made her nervous to have him so close to her again. He was freshly shaved and brutally handsome. And the smile he was giving her now was nothing short of devastating. Quickly, she looked back at the breakfast tray. “This looks delicious. I suppose now you’ll tell me you cooked it yourself?”
“No.” His sensual mouth quirked. “But I run a full-service prison here. Room and board included.”
“Nice.” She lifted her eyes to him suddenly. “It would be even nicer if you’d let me go.”
He blinked, then his eyes hardened. “But we already agreed that I am not nice. I am a businessman. And you are too thin. No more diets. You will eat.”
“I wasn’t on a diet,” she said, stung. “I wasn’t even trying to lose weight. I just couldn’t relax around Lars. I never had an appetite.”
“You found him unappetizing? Shocking,” Xerxes said, lifting his eyebrow. “But you are in my care now. Further starvation will cause you to lose your value. You will obey me in this.”
Rose scowled at his tyrannical tone, then looked down at the tray. The coffee smelled divine, the croissants looked flaky and buttery. Her stomach grumbled. She hadn’t eaten a thing since yesterday. Or was it the day before? She hadn’t even eaten a slice of wedding cake. Cake with buttercream frosting was normally her favorite, but she hadn’t been able to eat a bite.
Why hadn’t she listened to what her body had been trying to tell her all along?
So rather than argue with him, she took a deep breath and placed the napkin in her lap. She took a bite of chocolate croissant, and her eyes widened. “Yum!” she breathed, and quickly ate another bite, and another.
“That’s what I like,” he said approvingly.
She took a big swig of orange juice. “I can relax around you, Xerxes. I don’t need to be perfect for you—” she gave him a sudden grin “—because you’re basically a terrible person.”
“I am,” he agreed. Leaning forward, he suddenly stroked her upper lip.
Electrified, she stared up at him in shock. “Why did you do that?”
“Orange juice on your lip,” he said.
She swallowed. How could he do that? How could Xerxes, with just one touch, make her completely forget who she was and what she was doing?
“Go on,” he said. “Don’t stop now. I want you nice and healthy when I trade you.”
Her
smile faded.
Trade. Yes. Of course he wanted her healthy, so he could trade her like a horse. Fat and sassy, like a farm cow. Maybe he’d even find a way to sell her by the pound. Biting her lip, she looked down at her tray.