"From now on?" Catherine questioned, as if she didn’t like the sound of that.
"Yes... It’ll be our priority from now on."
"I see... more high-class bullshit. I signed up for this, so I’m not gonna complain."
The waiter came to take our order and then left, my eyes still on Catherine as she had hers on mine too.
Our staring contest was getting old, and it seemed as if we were reaching the point of throwing fire at each other.
I could tell she was getting more frustrated with me, and her impulsive side was coming in waves; and at this end, she’s the most unpredictable one at the table.
I like it.
It made my blood hot, and I enjoyed her, but there was a limit to it before I took matters into my hands.
"Roses..." She was the first to strike up a conversation. "I keep seeing them on the table whenever we’re at dinner." Her eyes narrowed as if she could finally tell.
I know everything about her.
From the products she uses on her hair, her lotions, her skin care routine, the type of makeup she wears, her sizes in clothes and underwear, how much she loves garters, lingerie, and thongs. Most especially her sweet tooth.
"They are your favorite, especially the red ones."
She flickered her eyes to me in speed, questions rising in a storm. "How do you know that?"
"It’s your husband’s duty to know all about that."
Seems like my reply didn’t quell the storming question arising nor ease them. I could tell that she discerned something, but she couldn’t pinpoint what exactly.
I was like a puzzle for her, and she was eager to fit the pieces.
Our food was brought, and even as I picked up my cutlery, Catherine still watched me like she was waiting for me to keep talking or explain myself.
I simply cut my steak and used my fork to bring the meat to my mouth and bite off the piece.
She eyed my chewing action like a camera feed; even as I swallowed, she tracked and did the same.
Catherine cleared her throat and began eating, taking small bites out of her food. I have noticed she hasn’t been eating or sleeping as much lately.
This was the major reason I entertained this dinner, not because of the public. If she had gone back to the penthouse, she would have passed out on the bed in exhaustion.
She had ordered pasta. I can’t get over how her mouth moved and how she would lick to get the sauce off.
Taking her wine for a sip, she continued the discussion. "You expect me to believe that after the contract, you got every info about me just to put up the duty of a husband. Your dedication is unmatched. You and Athena are similar."
"Don’t you think I should know more about you, too?" She threw the question.
Smart girl.
She’s trying to dig. Then whatever source she got those files from wasn’t a reliable one. I was right to make the roses more obvious.
"What’s there to know about me that you don’t already know?" I said, taking the wine glass.
"I figured many. I may have known you for three years, Mr. King, but you’re a very private man."
I tilted my glass, not breaking my gaze as I drank my wine. I set it down, swiping my tongue on my bottom lip. "What’s with the sudden curiosity then, Ms. Lane?"
"You’re my husband."
Shit.
Those words shouldn’t affect me, but they did in the most agonizing way possible, and it’s getting suffocating in my pants. The only thing I could do to ground myself was loosen my tie just a bit, as if it got too tight.
A smirk played on Catherine’s lips as if she could tell she had given me a worthy reaction.
"You said we’re gonna have more social events. Don’t you think I should know everything about my husband?"
I released a sharp breath and leaned back on my chair, my fingers tapping the table as I braced myself more than I have ever had for years.
"Call me husband again, and nothing’s stopping me from fucking you against this table."
She gasped. That was an inside voice, but it left me before I could stop myself.
When the waiter came to refill our wine and left, the heat spiraled around the table like live flames.
"H-Honey, there are people here," she breathed.
"Do you think I give a fuck about that right now?"
Her mouth hung agape.
I’ll peel their eyes from their skulls after I’m done with her.
"Y-You’re losing your cool."
And whose fault is that?
"Ahem!" She drank from her wine, smirking. "So where were we before you spoke with your cock?"
I clenched my teeth. "Are you wearing panties right now?"
"Honey!" she whispered-hissed, looking around like someone was watching us or listening, but they were too far away to eavesdrop.
When she looked back at me and realized I was being serious, her parted lips shut.
"Yes."
I was hoping for a no.
"Take it off."
She scowled, not in a way of disagreement but at how the situation had escalated.
"You want them? Fine!" She squirmed in her seat, not being discreet at all.
It was my turn to sweep my gaze around for any unfortunate souls who had their eyes on her.
Catherine leaned down, and I heard her heels tapping on the floor before she straightened her spine.
"Catch."
What—!
She tossed the lace right at my face, my eyes closing. When I opened them, the red lace was on my lap.
"That is my favorite pair, and I’ll need it back." She went back to eating.
I took the lace between my fingers, feeling it soaked with her moisture, the scent of her dousing my nose like an invitation to a mint seduction.
I peered at Catherine through my lashes and she eyed me knowingly.