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Chapter Ten
Baxter
With impeccable timing like always, as soon as we are seated, the doors at the far end of the room fly open and the servers enter with the first course. I nod my head in silent thanks as the first plate is placed before me, then I sit and wait. Even once the staff are gone, I wait. I watch. She grows more and more uncomfortable.
Finally, she begins the starter. I think it’s so that she doesn’t have to look at me any longer. I wish I could eat, but my brain is too busy taking in every inch of her. I just sit and stare at her, elbows on the table, fingertips together, resting against my chin. I’m plotting.
“What’s up with the name thing?” I ask. We’ve been silent for minutes and I’m just not comfortable making small talk. It’s not something I often have to do. Usually people are either too scared to talk to me, or too in awe. Those who are brave enough, I quickly shut down. So having to initiate conversation at an intimate dinner for two? Pure hell. I’d rather have a sleepover with Kalen Knox than have to do this.
“What’s up with the name Baxter?” she bites back. Okay, she really doesn’t want to talk about it. “Your parents really like soup or something?”
I chuckle lightly, unable to help myself. She’s the first person to ever connect my name to the Scottish soup company, usually people are too obsessed with the Branson name to consider much else. It’s a coincidence though, my mother just really liked the alliteration.
“Touché,” I say, still laughing slightly. “So you don’t want to talk about that then. What shall we talk about?” She shrugs and keeps eating.
“You a vampire or something?” she asks me. I snort back a derisive laugh. Is she for real right now? Doesn’t she know people are monstrous enough without inventing new creatures to terrify people?
“Pardon?”
“The not eating thingy.”She waves her fork around like she knows how to wield a weapon. It’s sexy and intriguing.
“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t notice. I was distracted by the beauty in the room.” Ah fuck. I glower. What the fuck did I say that for? My brain can’t decide if it wants to fuck with her or be genuine, and now I’m coming off like some deranged sociopath. Pick a path, Baxter. Fuck her to fuck with Cordelia or try to make a meaningful connection for once in your sorry life.
I sigh. I guess I’ll pick the first path. It’s a damn sight easier. And it’ll at least end in sex. I need to be more charming, less creepy, but this girl is looking like a hard sell. There’s a look in her eyes that says she isn’t going to fall for any of my usual bullshit, and I might just have to try harder with this one. I’m surprised. I’m not used to trying, and I’m certainly not used to high society girls posing any sort of a challenge. Although this one seems as far from high society as it’s possible to get. Is she even Cordelia’s granddaughter? I don’t see any resemblance.
“Well, I’m starving,” she says, drawing me from my thoughts. “So if you could begin, I’ll be able to get my main course sooner. I hope it’s more substantial than whatever this fairy food is.”
“Fairy food?”Again, I want to laugh. My lips twitch and I don’t remember the last time I had so little control over my own damn body. My dick bobs in agreement and I mentally tell it to calm the fuck down too.
She stares pointedly at my plate, ignoring me until I get the hint and pick up my fork to begin.
“Yes, fairy food. All pretty and dainty. Portion size only big enough to fill a fairy.”
I can’t help but snort in amusement, picking up the tiny morsel from my plate and popping it into my mouth in one go. She’s right of course, but usually chicks dig this fancy ass shit. Does this one even care that she’s eating food created by the most decorated celebrity chef in the world? Obviously not, because if he could hear the way she’s derisively describing his food, his ego would be beyond wounded.
I decide that I definitely like her. She was born into this world and she doesn’t fit at all. But rather than try to be fake, she’s giving everyone the finger. Like me.
“This is a five hour, twelve-course tasting menu. The portion sizes have to be small; otherwise you’d pop.” I laugh again easily. There’s a...lightness in my chest I’ve not felt in a long while. I get something similar around Amelie but to a lesser extent. There’s always some concern there, knowing how much danger she’s in, and having to deal with my wanting to protect her and not just because I’m paid to.
No, this girl makes me feel...happy? I’m not sure. Am I capable of that emotion? Fucking makes me feel good. Plotting too. Revenge, killing, torturing all make me feel sated. But happy? That’s a new one for me.
“Wait! What? Five hours?”
“At least.” I smirk, enjoying the clear discomfort on her face when she realises that she’ll be stuck here with me for a while yet. I’m pretty sure she planned to eat and run, but it gives me time to seduce her course by course. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I never understood that. I eat to keep my body functioning. But maybe the way to a woman’s heart is through food too? I have no idea. In the past it seemed to be through my name and bank balance but this girl doesn’t seem that way inclined.
“I’d rather have a steak and ice cream,” she blurts out, just as the servers enter to take away our plates. There’s a look of horror on everyone’s faces and my shoulders shake. Uh-oh, she’s in trouble now when the chef finds out.
When we’re alone again, we sit in silence. She seems uncomfortable, sighing and fidgeting. I don’t mind; every time she wiggles, her dress slides a little further up her thighs. I wonder what colour her underwear is.
“What do you do?” she breaks the silence.
“I’m about to graduate from university.” I appreciate the thoughtfulness of her question. Most people assume I don’t do anything, just sit around waiting for Grandfather to die so that I can start blowing his legacy on booze and breasts, or pills and pussy.
“Oh, how old are you then? I thought you were my age.” She looks at me with curiosity. Damn. I should have lied. This is going to lead to more questions.
“I’m older,” I reply flatly, hoping to shut her down.
“What do you read?” she digs. It’s like she can sense I don’t want to go down this line of questioning, and is trying to provoke me.
