Landen POV
I bring the glass to my lips for a sip. "And you're sure?"
"Positive," Henry, my PI confirms. "She's clean. No exotic trips, expensive shopping sprees or scandals of any kind. The media loves her and they have good reason to. The charity work she's done has helped thousands of people. And the fundraisers she's hosted pumped out millions for international projects. I'm telling you, Mr Vacheron. She's an angel on earth."
I don't believe in Angels. "And you sure there is no one she's involved with?"
I spot Avara in the distance, weaving past white-clothed tables.
"Other than your brother, no. I've noticed Grayson Adler, son of Governor Adler, is pretty fond of her, but it's clearly platonic. Nothing interesting worth mentioning."
"I have to go, Mother Teresa arrived." I end the call. "Avara," I announce, injecting excitement into my voice that somehow comes out scathing. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you." I drop my phone face down on the table.
She musters an uncomfortable smile. My eyes skim over her. She has her sun-singed walnut-brown hair plaited in a crown braid, wearing an off-shoulder pastel-pink dress with a floral print. Brandless. Come to think of it, she never wears branded clothes like Saint Laurent or Givenchy. But maybe she's just the subtle Mark Zuckerberg types. Loves making money but doesn't need to showcase it.
"I'd be lying if I said the invitation didn't surprise me." She pulls out the chair opposite from me and sits down, setting her bag by her feet. "Why did you want to meet? Did you want to apologize in person?"
A laugh escapes me, fading out with the salt-scented wind. We are seated on the outside deck of a deluxe waterfront restaurant with an inner port fringed by yachts. Pathetic paddle boats compared to my father's selection of superyachts.
"Apologize for what?"
A hybrid look of horror and outrage crosses her face. "Threatening me, after you choked me."
"Most girls like that," I say with a seductive smile.
She jumps to her feet.
"Avara." I drain the contents of the glass before I deposit it back on the table. "If I gave you the impression that I was going to apologize. I'm sorry for misleading you. I don't regret what I did. And I won't apologize for wanting to protect my brother."
"From me?"
Her shout draws curious eyes. I stand up and I motion her over. She gets the cue and retrieves her bag and we walk off the deck to amble down the pier with vessels lined up against its edges.
"Especially from girls like you," I respond in a harsh whisper. "I'm not buying the good-girl act. The privilege my brother and I have been afforded attracts all kinds of leeches and vultures. I just don't know which one you are yet."
She frees a long exhale and comes to a pause. "Your father reached out to mine. Not the other way around. This was forced on me. It wasn't my idea and the last thing I imagined about my dream wedding was walking down the aisle to marry my fake fiance. I don't know in what world would that be a win for me?"
My lips tear apart.
She shoots up a silencing finger. "And if you say it's for the money. I'm not getting a cent because, despite what you believe, I'm not driven by that."
I muse her rebuttal. "Then what are you driven by?"
"My father needed my help. I gave it."
My lips unravel a smile. "Ah, daddy's little girl likes to do daddy's bidding."
She makes a disgusted face, looking away like I sicken her.
"I didn't bring you here to fight or to accuse you of anything."
She scoffs in disbelief. "Then why, Landen?"
The best lie always has a part of the truth. "So you can understand. Just like you would do anything for your father. I would do anything for my brother."
"I'm not a threat to him," she utters exasperatedly.
"I'm beginning to see that."
Her eyes fly up, her eyes are pools of stewing cinnamon, glimmering with earnestness.
I glance back at the restaurant. "There are some amazing prawns that were caught just this morning. Since you're here…"
"Sure," she says, sashaying back to the open deck. "I'm only saying yes because I'm scared you'll strangle me again if I don't."
I let out a small chuckle. "You can admit that it turned you on. I find it's always the innocent-looking girls that are the biggest freaks. Let me guess, among your many selfless hobbies. You like to read? And I bet those book covers look real innocent too."
She sends me an unimpressed look whilst still preserving a polite smile. "Don't confuse me with the many girls you hook up."
I move swiftly to obstruct her path. "You stalking me?"
"Your infamous sexcapades are like the daily news. Constant and something I don't care about."
I inch closer. "So I don't intrigue you at all?"
She frees a humored breath like it's the most unthinkable thing in the world. "No."
I nod slowly. "Not even a tad bit curious?"
She lifts her chin to make brazen eye contact. "Not even in the slightest."
My tongue pokes through my cheek. "Don't make me fuck the lies right out of you."
Her eyes widen comically like an anime character.
"Relax, babe." I place my hand on the small of her back, guiding her back up the wooden steps of the deck. "All in good time."
She escapes my grasp and darts up two steps ahead so she can pivot and glare down at me, with the intimidation of a pup.
"If we're going to try to pretend to be civil. You're going to behave."
I step up, my eyes trailing down her body provokingly. "What will you do if I don't?" I bring my wrists together, ready to be bound. "You gonna punish me, Mrs Vacheron?"
She huffs and whips back around, moving to leave, but I try to stop her—gently.
"Wait."
I capture her wrist, putting her off balance, and her heel slips. She twists and fumbles, flinging herself into my grasp for support. My hands secure her hips, keeping her steady against me, and her arms are tangled around my neck. The skin-to-skin elicits an illicit spark like a shot of electricity. I draw her back gingerly and she finds her footing. A warm pink dusting her cheeks and mantling her brow.
"Sorry," she mumbles.
"It was my fault."
She smiles bashfully at the ground. "So... About those prawns."