by Desiree Holt
The elevator dinged one final time before the doors opened and they walked to the restaurant, where he was immediately recognized and led to an empty table set for six.
“Looks like we’re early.” She had been taught to always arrive early for work. It looked like the rules were far different for the corporate elite.
“More like they are late, but that suits me just fine.” He led her past the table, giving the host a nod as he did. “It gives me a chance to dance with you before they arrive.” She hadn’t noticed the small dance floor in front of the string quartet playing a song she didn’t recognize.
“I’m not a very good dancer.” Her free arm wrapped around his waist as he pulled her in close by their joined hands. He felt so perfect, pressed against her so lightly. She held in a chuckle of embarrassment as she noticed he, too, was enjoying their closeness as evinced by a certain part of his anatomy now pressing ever so gently against her belly. He was trying to be a gentleman, even if his body was as out of control as hers was.
“It’s a good thing I am, then, isn’t it?” She felt his breath on her earlobe as he spoke, and he started to move to the music. They moved in tandem, their bodies close. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the song. Words weren’t needed. They were connecting on a different level, one Crina hadn’t even imagined existed.
“You weren’t kidding.” The song ended and, much to her surprise, they kept dancing even between songs. “I feel like a princess dancing at a ball with the beautiful music, handsome date, and gorgeous ambiance.”
“You think I’m handsome.” The lightness in his voice gave her a lightness of her own, and as if sensing it, he twirled her around like the princess she felt like, just as the next song began.
“You know you are.” He wasn’t pompous about his looks by any means, but there was zero chance he didn’t know how dashing he was.
“It’s still nice to hear.”
She nodded before laying her cheek against his chest, glad that she chose to go without most of her makeup.
“Did I mention you look radiant tonight?”
“Not in those words, but yes, and thank you.” He had, too. He had told her she was breathtaking, gorgeous, and beautiful before they even left the room. It wasn’t for show, either. She could see it in his eyes and the slight drop in his voice. It added to the magic of the evening, knowing at least that partial truth was there. She might be pretend, but she was far from unvalued.
“I think we should get to our table.” He broke their closeness as another song ended. She had lost track of how many songs they’d danced to and was sad that their time dancing was over. “There’ve been eyes on us for the past two songs.” Her cheeks flamed. How could she have even momentarily forgotten that they were in a room where he was meeting important business clients?
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“What, and spoil our lovely time with work?’ He rubbed his cheek gently against hers, the stubble from earlier gone. She missed the feel of it against her skin, even though the better view of his dimples was completely worth it.
“Why did you do that?” She spoke low, not wanting to embarrass him, yet wanting to know.
“You wanted me to, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I don’t understand why.”
He bent over and kissed her cheek. “When we get upstairs.”
“Deal.” He could have asked her anything after that peck on the cheek and she would have happily complied. “Let’s go back to the table before I get too nervous.”
They meandered back, and she was introduced to the three people waiting. Two of them were an elderly couple who, true to Mateo’s prediction, kissed her on the cheek and hugged her. The man next to them was introduced as Damien. He, unlike the sweet couple, didn’t hug her. He didn’t even take her proffered hand. Managing to give her a quick look up and down, he barely contained his disgust and sat down in the seat she was poised to take. Rude much?
“Have a seat, Lily.” Mateo held out a chair next to Betsy, the sweet woman, which she took without hesitation. He sat beside her, buffering her from Damien—or, as she now thought of him, Rude Asshat.
“Janis will be here shortly. She called me, letting me know she had a headache and was running a bit late. I can see why.” Damien’s tone matched his scathing appraisal.
“Damien, shall we find another table?” Mateo squeezed her knee gently as he spoke, his words strong and controlled and anything but gentle.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mateo. Damien is going to behave, aren’t you?” Betsy might have been soft-spoken, but her words held just as much strength as Mateo’s, if not more.
“Yes, Mama.” He tilted his head oddly as he conceded. It was hard to believe such a jerk-faced loser came from the sweet woman beside her. Sweet until you ticked her off, from the looks of things, anyway. Crina didn’t want to be on the woman’s bad side, for sure. She placed her hand on the one Mateo left sitting upon her knee.
“So, dear child, tell Samuel and me how you two met.”
Subject change it was, and she was happy for it. Crina went into the tale they’d made up, which, spoken aloud, sounded like the biggest load of dog poo. The couple ate it up anyway, and, in turn, shared their story, which started with a community dance. They were adorable and accepting, and at the same time didn’t put up with assholery.
“She’s not one of us.” Janis’s ear-cringing voice interrupted the pleasant conversation Crina was having.
“And neither was I.” Samuel spoke in the same stern voice Betsy had earlier, his version somehow more menacing. Crina found it hard to believe her lack of money was such an issue. Even if she were a gold digger, which she wasn’t, it wasn’t their money she would be digging for. And when had society reverted back to the haves and have nots? Maybe it had never changed, even if Crina had never witnessed it firsthand.
“That’s different and you know it.” Janis sat in the open seat as her words spewed like venom, the her position leaving her in touching distance of Mateo. The memory of her touching Mateo earlier made Crina’s blood boil. The insanity of it flustered her. He had zero interest in Janis, and even if he did, Crina had no rights to him at all. Janis focused her words directly at Mateo, who twisted his hand and intertwined their fingers under the table, a comforting move Crina much appreciated.
“It is exactly the same.” Mateo’s staccato voice, quiet, yet firm, filled Crina with instant comfort even if the conversation was making no sense.
“I call bullshit. This gyp smells unclaimed to me.”
It had been years since she had heard the term gyp. Back home, everyone knew she was of Roma descent, and they at least had the decency to be fearfully respectful of her heritage. Fearful due to her meemaw’s reputation for Roma magic, but fearfully respectful nonetheless. How had Janis even known, and what would possess her to degrade herself by resorting to racial slurs?
“Gyp, really?” Crina’s anger was getting the better of her, and she tried to rein it in, keeping her voice slow and forceful. “You think that and your temper fit this afternoon are going to push me away? Goodness, I have been called far worse by far better than you.” Crina could see the vein on the woman’s neck throb as she spoke. It was never good to combat a mean girl at her own game, yet there she was doing exactly that. She would have pulled it back immediately if Mateo had loosened his hold on her hand even slightly. He seemed fine with her tirade, and saying it took a burden off of her shoulders.
“Do you know who I am?” Janis’s face was now bright red and her temper far from intact. She had not mastered the low, stern voice, and hers shrilled loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear before her father placed his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to calm her down.
“The woman who whacked me with her purse on her way in, threw a hissy fit in the lobby when we were introduced, and then called me a racial slur hoping to get me to cower in a corner?”
Damien’s face dropped as she spoke. Was he completely oblivi
ous to the horribleness that was his daughter? “How dare you.”
Nope, not oblivious, just shocked that someone, anyone would call her out on it. No wonder she was such a spoiled brat.
“Damien, that’s enough.” Mateo rose, and the air got thick. Crina had only felt anything like it once before, when one of her meemaw’s customers got mad at her for reading his cards or, more accurately, for not liking what the cards said. It was the last time Crina remembered seeing a card reading. Meemaw had mumbled something about only taking human clients from then on, but paranormals were her bread and butter, so she just kept them away from Crina after the incident.
“We’re going out for dinner on our own. If you are still interested in working out a treaty, we’ll meet you back here in the morning. If not, consider our good faith agreement broken.” Damien looked far from pleased but uttered not a sound.
“Night, Betsy. Night, Samuel,” Mateo bid them, the air much less dense and his tone gentler.
“Good night, Mateo.” Betsy stood up and wrapped them both in a loose hug. “Your mama would’ve been proud. You picked a fine mate—”
“She. Is. Not. His,” Janis interrupted Betsy, a mistake Crina was smart enough to know not to make.
“Enough, Janis. Now sit down.” This time it was Samuel who spoke and the air became unbreathable.
As they walked out of the restaurant, Crina sent up a silent prayer that she hadn’t just fucked up their entire deal, or worse yet, ruined her chances to spend time with Mateo.
Busted
The cool air felt amazing dancing across her skin as they left the hotel. Crina pulled to a stop, savoring it.
“Are you all right?
“I’m fine. I apologize for losing my temper.” She sucked in another deep breath.
“Are you sure you’re all right? You’re breathing oddly.” The man noticed everything. She took a step closer, needing him to see the honesty in her reply. To know that as much as she was mad at herself for losing her temper, she was fine.
“It was getting hard to breathe near the end in there is all.”
“You felt that?”
“Of course. I’m sure everyone did.” She took a step away and held her hand back to him in invitation. He took the step forward, bypassing her hand and wrapping his arm around her waist as they began their walk. She leaned into his side. “I’m fine now.” She felt a light kiss on the top of her head. “Remember when you vowed to me to tell the truth?”
“I do.” Stopping at the corner, he waited for her to point the way. She was unfamiliar with the city but caught a park sign pointing to the left and held her hand out in that direction.
“Did I ruin your chances with Damien’s company?” She would never forgive herself if she had, even if the bitch had it coming. What grown woman acted like that, although she was a mini version of her father. You plant a potato, you get a potato.
“That’s what you took away from that fiasco?”
She shrugged, not speaking in the hopes he would continue.
“No. No, you didn’t. You probably strengthened my chances of having a successful weekend with Samuel’s company.”
“Ohhhh.” It all began to fall into place.
“I see you put the pieces together.” He stopped in front of a small bistro, but she shook her head. They had more to talk about and a public restaurant, it became increasingly clear, was not the place for it. “Damien’s their brat, and he isn’t even the next in line for the company. He just wants to be.”
“And that’s where the pairing of you and Janis came in.” What kind of a father tried to pair his daughter up with someone she didn’t even like, much less love. Especially when it was someone he too despised. Growing up poor and powerless was looking more and more like a gift. They might have had their problems, but it was nothing like those of the family she’d met at her first attempt at dinner for the evening.
“Exactly.”
“She’s a bitch.”
His laughter echoed through the mostly empty street. It was a magnificent sound. One she planned to hear as often as possible over her time with him.
“You’re telling me. I’m sorry I put you in a situation where you would get called such an ugly name.” His laughter dissipated as quickly as it came. Mateo understood the harshness and cruelty in the woman’s words. “I made the assumption she would keep her fake smile going the entire weekend.”
“Thank you. I did, too.”
He pulled her to a stop in front of a small diner where she once again shook her head no before they started to walk again. “There’s no need to apologize for the actions of others.”
Rewarded with yet another kiss on the top of her head, she savored the moment. Soon, she spotted the park, her secret destination.
“What would you like for dinner?” Mateo asked.
“Sandwiches?” She pointed to a still open deli across the street.
“Sandwiches?”
She nodded and tugged him in the direction of the restaurant.
“I can do better than that.”
“I’m sure you can, Mr. More-money-than-he-knows-what-to-do-with,” she teased as they reached the shop’s door. “We can eat at the park, and I can enjoy the fresh air.”
They walked in and ordered their takeaway meal just as the place was closing. The roast beef sandwiches smelled wonderful, and her stomach growled in anticipation at the succulent horseradish filled delights. There was no way she was going to be a dainty lady at their dinner in the park; she was going to inhale the cheesy goodness. Their sandwiches in his right hand, his left arm around her shoulder, they began to meander to their dining destination.
“Was it that bad for you in there?”
Crina took a moment to realize they were back to talking about the dinner fiasco. She was impressed with how he had let the conversation go as they walked into the restaurant and then picked it right back up again once they were alone.
“With Samuel, yes, the air was that heavy.”
His grasp on her tightened just the tiniest bit.
“You, not as much. I think because I trust you not to hurt me.”
“Says the woman who asked me if I was a serial killer.” They paused at the corner, waiting for a cab pass before crossing the street.
She knew his words were an attempt to sidetrack her from her line of questioning, and she was having none of that. He was most assuredly a paranormal of some kind, and it was killing her that she couldn’t figure it out. The last time she’d been allowed to attend one of her meemaw’s readings and the customer had reacted badly, she had felt his dominance suck the air from the room. That man had been a houngan, but Crina highly doubted Mateo was a Haitian voodoo priest.
“So are you going to tell me what you are that you have such dominance? I don’t sense Roma.” He had heard her called gyp, but she wanted to lay it out there for him to see. She was a Roma by birth, even if her family had put down roots and no longer traveled.
“No, not Roma, nor Traveler, nor any other roaming folk.”
The entrance to the park was clearly marked Closed at Dusk, yet no part of her could bring herself to care.
“You vowed,” she reminded after giving him a minute to continue. They sat at a picnic table, and Crina unpacked the sandwiches, watching him intently in the moonlight.
“Darn it, woman, do you have to remember everything I say?” His face held a small smile as he opened his dinner, still biding time.
“Naw, just the important stuff.” She took a huge bite of her sandwich, savoring the intensity of the horseradish blended with the tender beef, still waiting for his reply. Crina knew it had to be big in order for Mateo to be so hesitant.
“Here goes. Promise not to break our deal without hearing me out?” She nodded, and he raised his eyes in question. He needed her words.
“Promise. Where am I going to go, anyway?” Her attempt to lighten the mood fell like a stone, his face sullen and his eyes closed.
“I would
never turn you out on the street.”
Crap on a cracker, she’d hurt his feelings. “I was teasing.”
“I know. But my lion needs you to know he will protect you.” When he opened his eyes, they glowed, the gold far more pronounced than earlier. Magnificent.
“That’s why they said mate. Of freaking course. I should have picked up on that; I was just so furious. And the face rubbing. And the growling. Duh. Meemaw must be rolling over in her grave at my cluelessness.” She was once again talking a mile a minute.
“So lion is run of the mill for you?” He slowly stood, and, as if approaching a hurt animal, tentatively walked around the table and straddled the bench to face her.
“Of course not. It just isn’t shocking to me.” She placed her hand on his thigh just above his knee and twisted to face him. “Meemaw told me about all of the magic out there, including shifter magic. Told me it was important to know the world I was living in.”
“So, if you weren’t thinking lion, what were you thinking?”
“Promise not to laugh?”
“No, but I promise to laugh with and not at you.”
Good enough, and far more respect than any other person she had dated, or in this case faux dated, had given her. Why the heck did it have to feel so real? “Fair enough. I was thinking warlock after my head cleared from all the dominance.”
“Warlock? How did you get to warlock?”
“This is where you can’t laugh at me.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “I thought warlock because I assumed you had to be wearing a glamour.” There, she’d said it. She had just confessed she found him too handsome to be real.
She cracked her eyes open when she heard only crickets and cars instead of laughter and found him staring at her lips, lust shining in his eyes. He didn’t find her confession amusing; it turned him on, and fake girlfriend or not, she wasn’t letting her girlfriend status or lack thereof get in the way when he so obviously wanted a kiss as badly as she did.