“Hello, honey,” I murmur.
He looks up, his gaze lazy. I have to admit that Cal is a good-looking guy who could star in any movie as the lead. His hair is a shade of blond that reminds me of better times at the ocean playing volleyball. It’s unruly and yet somehow expertly styled. His eyes are a piercing blue and his bone structure classic and symmetrical.
For our meeting tonight, or rather for whatever the heck he is doing here, he’s wearing tan slacks and a black button-down shirt that reveals his bronze neck and part of his torso. His smile is both mischievous and sharp. “Alana, hello.” He snaps his fingers and men appear out of nowhere to assist the two women off him. The blonde protests but isn’t given a choice, and soon they’re standing on the other side of the rope. “I apologize. I didn’t know you would be here as of yet.”
“Are you apologizing that I caught you with the bimbos or that you were with the bimbos?” I ask.
He does not stand. “Let’s not pretend this is anything other than what it is.” He gestures toward the seat next to him, the one vacated by the dark-haired girl.
I angle my head to make sure she’s left behind no wet spots since she was obviously well into him. It looks dry enough. I sit.
“What would you like to drink?” he asks.
I look over at a hovering waitress who appears to be about to have a panic attack. She bounces like an exuberant puppy as if waiting for a command, her gaze longingly on Cal.
“Dirty gin martini, three olives,” I say, hoping she doesn’t soil herself.
She waits until Cal nods. I roll my eyes. As she scampers off, he reaches out and trails his fingers down my arm. It shocks me how badly I want to punch his perfect face. His nose is a little too straight but I can fix that.
“So we get married in a couple of weeks, huh?” He winks.
I blink. “I thought maybe you and I could work together to avoid that.” I say the words slowly, trying to read him.
“Why would I want to avoid our union?” His gaze rakes me from head to toe and then warms. “You’re a hot little thing, Alana Beaumont. Everybody I know has been trying to get in your pants for a good ten years. I’m looking forward to being the one who finally does it.”
My stomach revolts, but I smile. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter. We’re both going to do what our families tell us to do, and then you’re going to do what I tell you to do.”
“That isn’t how it works,” I say dryly. “Believe me, I’m more trouble than you want.” It is only fair to be honest with the guy.
He sighs as if bored. “I don’t believe that to be true. You’ll be a good little girl and a good wife and probably a good mother to how many little hounds you shove out. You can have all the freedom you want in this marriage, but stay under the radar and don’t embarrass me.”
I look over my shoulder to where the two women who’d been hanging over him press against the rope, trying to get back in. “What about the vows?”
“Oh, please,” he says. “I’m a man.”
“Are you?” I look him over. “I’m not so sure. You seem like a castrated dog to me.” If I mean to insult him, it doesn’t work.
He laughs. “I’m exactly what I want to be. I’m about to marry the princess everybody lusts after and win more responsibility at Hologrid Hub. When we combine your algorithms with ours, we’ll be able to take down Malice and TimeGem. This is a good thing, Alana. Toe the line.”
A waiter strides toward us and hands me a martini. He’s tall with lighter blond hair and sparkling brown eyes. “You didn’t specify the gin, Miss, so I chose the Botanist. It’s my favorite.”
I accept the drink. “Thank you.”
His grin flashes two dimples. What is he? About twenty? For some reason, he makes me feel old. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Thanks, but no.” I return his smile, noting how well he fills out the dark T-shirt.
Cal clears his throat. “About our engagement, darling . . .”
The waiter’s grin fails as he looks from Cal back to me, as if asking what in the world I’m thinking.
My smile widens. Perhaps I should introduce this guy to Rosalie. Oh, she’d eat him for breakfast, but he’s adorable.
Cal coughs. “Plan the wedding, Alana. Now.”
So much for us combining forces and preventing this ridiculous union. “I have to tell you, Cal, you don’t want to marry me.” I focus back on him.
“Oh, but I do.” His gaze drops to my breasts. “I actually can’t wait for the wedding night.” He looks at his watch. “You have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, and as soon as we receive those results, I’ll sign the papers.”
What is he talking about? “I have a doctor’s appointment?”
He laughs. “Didn’t you read the papers your father gave you?”
Right now they’re stuffed in my purse. I have neither read nor signed them. “No.”
“You have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow to make sure that you’re healthy, can bear children, and . . . well, you know . . .” His voice drops into a slur.
I lean toward him. “I don’t know.”
“Sure you do. We have to make sure that little hymen is intact, don’t we?”
My jaw drops. It’s rare that I am taken aback, considering I spend most of my life in front of a camera. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious. How am I going to brag about being the only one to bang the princess if somebody’s been there before me?”
My ears heat until I’m sure they’re beet red, absurdly pleased the cute waiter has moved down the line in the VIP area and can’t hear this crap. “Oh, you’re a dick.” I stand. “This wedding is not happening.”
