“Will he find out that we ditched your bodyguard?” I hate the idea of her getting in trouble with her father. I despise the man.
She laughs and shakes her head. “Do you really think my bodyguard would admit to losing me like that? Oh, I doubt it.”
I watch her take another bite of food, chew, then swallow.
“Good,” I tell her. “The only person I want you in trouble with is me.”
She shivers, her voice dropping to a whisper. “What do you mean?”
I shake my head at her. “Tonight, I’ll show you exactly what I mean.” The waiter comes back to the table with a dessert menu.
“Dessert?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you.” I look to Bryn. “You?”
She places her hand on her belly. “Oh, no thanks. I’m so full.”
“We’ll take the check, please. But just a minute.” I turn to her. “Hypothetically, if you had any more room in your belly, what would you order for dessert?”
“Chocolate,” she says with a smile. “Something decadently chocolate.”
I look up at the waiter. “Every chocolate dessert on your menu, takeaway please.”
“Yes, sir. Straight away, sir.”
Bryn shakes her head but smiles. “You have plans, do you?”
I shrug noncommittally. “Suppose we shall see?”
As we head back to the car, her phone buzzes. She scowls at the screen, then shoves it in her bag.
“Everything alright?”
She groans. “God, yes, just super annoying.”
“What is?”
She sighs. “Oh, nothing.”
It isn’t nothing. I want to know what bothers her, what annoys her, what makes her forehead pucker like that. But my goal right now is to build trust, so I can’t push too hard or fast. It wouldn’t be fair.
I like the feel of her hand in mine. I like the way she walks, like a queen, her head held high, elegant and regal. I like the way her lips turn down when she’s annoyed, and the way they turn up when she’s amused.
I like that she lets me hold her hand.
“Come with me to my place. My family lives about thirty minutes from here, but I have a place in town.”
I don’t want to tell her any lies, in case she does find out who I am. If she’s to trust me, I have to keep as authentic as I can.
“Aye,” she says with a smile. “I’d like that.”
Perfect.
Chapter 6
Bryn
I shouldn't be this excited. My pulse races, and I release his hand, only to discreetly wipe my damp palms on the hem of my dress. A little white box sits between us, chocolate dessert for… whatever he has plans for later.
My father texted while we were eating, checking on me, ostensibly to ensure he’s answered all questions about the proposition he’s made. And what a fucking choice he’s given me.
Wed a stranger or seduce Mac.
I stare out the window, wondering. Detaching myself from the present so I can make a logical choice, as I’ve been raised to do.
I suppose there are instances of arranged marriages that ended well.
I know of none.
I know a great-grandmother of mine committed suicide when she ended up wed to my great-grandfather. She gave birth to my grandfather, then hung herself while she still bled from the birth. They found her, hanging from the rafters, dried blood staining her legs. It's one of those stories my father has buried, but the women still whisper to one another. A warning, one might say. My sisters were the ones that told me. Maybe they were warning me as well?
I know for a fact that this is no carefully-orchestrated arranged marriage that he proposes. In some cultures that still value arranged marriages, I'm told that the parents spend a great deal of time finding the perfect spouse for their children.
My father would have no such inclinations. He would only be making sure that whatever deal he made benefited his clan.
The Aitkens Clan is my family, but I feel no allegiance.
I suspect Mac feels quite differently.
I responded to my father quickly, before I silenced my phone.
Bryn: I’m fine, thanks, and have decided on the Cowen Clan option. Putting the cogs into motion as we speak.
“Have you heard of the Cowens, Bryn?” Mac asks in a nonchalant tone, but the way his fingers tighten on the steering wheel makes me suspect this is no casual question.
The truth is, until the conversation I had with my father this morning, the answer would've been no. I don't know anything about my father’s business adversaries, alliances, or whatever the hell they are. I don't know anything about rival clans, or even neutral clans, or those that we’re friendly with.
If we're friendly with anyone. I wouldn't know. But of course now, after my conversation with him, that would be a lie.
“Not much,” I tell Mac truthfully, with a shrug. I keep my body posture loose and at ease, as I look out the window. “My father prefers the women in our house to not have anything to do with whatever it is you all do.”