I scooped up the onion on the blade and dumped it into the bowl.
"I have volunteered here every Saturday for three years," he counter-boasted, simply unable to not have the last word.
"Congrats. That's amazing. Did they name a street after you in gratitude, or—?" I jibed.
He pursed his lips and chopped the carrot into little disks, sliding it into the smaller bowl in front of him. "No. But it doesn't matter. It's not that hard to get a street named after yourself. I mean, what did you do again to get yours? Tinkle on the potty?" He snickered.
"I don't really remember," I said hurriedly. "Must just be because I'm awesome." I slid the rest of the onion into the bowl, grabbing another one in a huff.
"If you say so."
"I don't. But someone does. I mean, I do have a street named after me."
"Good for you."
I smiled coldly, still not looking at him. "Isn't it though? Definitely better than having…what is it you have your name on? An electric bill?"
He started to aggressively peel another carrot. "That's right. An electric bill. And a rental lease. And a cell phone plan. And cable TV. And a bank account. And my paychecks. That I earn. Because I'm not a spoiled brat living off the money my ancestors stole from their own people. Stole and called it taxes."
I rounded on him, pointing my knife at his face. He raised his hands in mock surrender, sending the carrot he was holding rolling across the counter and the peeler into the bowl of peelings. Amanda looked up at us, arching her eyebrow and waiting for a reason to get involved. George wasn't anywhere to be found and it was lucky, too, because if he'd seen me pointing a chef knife at the guy our limo had slammed into, it'd be the end of my charity work for the foreseeable future.
With that sobering thought, I of course remembered that this entire interchange was ridiculous and slammed the knife down on the counter to point my finger in his face instead. "At least I don't have to derive my self-worth by putting down other people. "
I was well aware that I was very likely being the pot calling the kettle black, but my feelings were hurt.
"Of course not. It's easier for you. You can just take your Daddy's credit card and go buy a yacht or a new handbag. You know, support local business by buying up foreign designer labels." He sneered facetiously, "And then, you can come donate a few of your many free hours to charity to ease your guilt. I'm sure that really helps you sleep at night."
I felt murderous as I willed my fiery gaze to ignite his stupid face. My teeth sunk into my bottom lip, and I felt a shiver go up my spine that I attributed to the air conditioning vent kicking on. His breath was coming out in huffs and I was so close that I could feel the heat of it on my face.
I might have been in denial before, but now I could definitely admit that I was feeling an attraction to that man. This awful, gorgeous man who I had only ever met once before. This man who had just gotten done insulting me for the second time this week.
I released my lip and leaned back, shaking my head. I blinked a few times and turned back to the onions in front of me. I grabbed blindly at the knife, picking it up and resuming my chopping without another word or look in his direction.
The blade hit the wooden cutting board in dull thunks and he must have rescued his carrot and resumed peeling it, because I could hear the soft scraping sound as the peels fell into the bowl.
I felt stupid again for losing my temper, not really sure why I was so dead set on winning this argument. I had been nothing but nice to him since the accident. Sure, the accident involved my limo, his bike and his ass hitting the sidewalk, but that had hardly been my fault and I'd been trying, hard.
Well, not maybe not entirely true. I was nothing but nice until he provoked me. He seemed to have a propensity for it.
We worked for some time in tense silence. Amanda eyed both of us sideways, as if waiting for us to speak to each other again. I was surprised he hadn't said anything more to me when we had been arguing before, hadn't taken my silence as a win and an opportunity to crow over his victory.
The rhythm of my chopping got faster and faster until it stopped suddenly, the knife clattering to the floor. A white hot pain radiated from my hand and my mouth opened but no sound came out.
I clutched my hand as blood began to ooze from a long cut. I felt cold and sweaty. Light and floaty. And my hand fucking hurt.
"Violet?" Kostos ventured. I thrilled a little to hear my given name, and not some sneered version of my title. But the thrill was short-lived because the room was spinning.
"I think I cut myself," I mumbled, wobbling on my feet. "Can you look at it?"
And then the floor started moving closer at breakneck speed.
The first thing I saw upon opening my eyes was Kostas' face in profile. He was right on level with me somehow. Not looking at me, but close. He smelled like some kind of men's body spray that I only recognized because it was somewhat like my fencing instructor, who sweated bullets then drenched himself in body spray in lieu of taking a shower between training sessions.
Kostas smelled similar, but not the same. He lacked a certain… B. O. scent… that my instructor seemed to have in spades.
There was something soft beneath me. A couch. I was on a couch. In an office, it looked like. I chanced turning my head and, even as my vision swam, I confirmed that I was definitely in an office of some kind.
Amanda's face was suddenly all I could see, a worried expression painting it before the light from a flashlight shone in each eye. "You okay, Vi?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Just dizzy. And cold."
All but my right hand. My right hand was warm. Nice and warm. I looked down to see it encased in a much larger one. A much larger one that disappeared from my grasp quickly when I noticed it.
"Sorry," Kostas coughed. "You, uh, grabbed it and I…uh…"
"You…UH…sat on the floor for a half hour," Amanda finished for him, a tightly forced smile tugging at her lips. "It was very cute. He didn't want to let it go." Her tone sounded off. Strange. But I couldn't unpack all the unspoken weirdness in the room.
I closed my eyes and gripped the back of the couch, pulling myself up to a sitting position. "I need to get back to—"
"No, no. It's fine. You don't have to. It's all been taken care of," Amanda said quickly. "Just rest until you can walk and we'll head home."
"But I wanted to—" I started to protest.
"I'm already going to have to explain that cut. I don't want to have to explain any other injuries today. You're going to be lucky if The Powers That Be let you come back at all after this," Amanda said, reaching down to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear.
'The powers that be' were the Smithes, of course.
I let my head hit the back of the couch. I closed my eyes as the mental walls started coming back up, pressing against me, boxing me in. The clichéd metaphorical prison.
"You're going to be lucky if The Powers That Be let you come back at all after this."
I couldn't believe how stupid I'd been. Getting into a childish argument with Kostas Esker instead of just doing what I came there to do. His presence had seriously messed with my mind. It was obnoxious. Even now. Even after he'd held my hand.
The last person to hold my hand had been Gideon. A wash of guilt rushed over me as I realized just what was wrong about this entire afternoon. I'd been blatantly lusting after a man when I supposedly had two men vying for my affections already. Or in Tristan's case, if not my affections, than my … alliances … at least.
It was all becoming a bigger mess than I was equipped to deal with.
"How does your hand feel?' Kostas asked, his voice soft. He shifted on the floor then pulled himself up onto the couch beside me.
He was being completely unlike the cocky prick he usually channeled. Mr. Holier-Than-Thou. Mr. I-pay-my-own-bills-so-I'm-better-than-you.
"Like I sliced it open," I snapped. I instantly regretted the tone, because he very visibly winced.
"Well. It was
pretty deep," he acquiesced.
I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill and stared hard at the back of the desk chair across the room. I clenched my jaw. I almost missed the cocky prick. I didn't like being pitied.
"Does it hurt? I can get you some Tylenol." He shifted like he was going to stand up.
I shook my head, pressing my lips together. "Thank you. I'm fine." I swallowed thickly.
"You don't look fine," he prodded.
I turned to face him, locking eyes. His deep-hued eyes versus my bright blues. I don't know what came over me to prompt sudden honestly, but it all poured out.
"Yeah? Well, maybe because I'm not. I'm embarrassed because I cut myself and passed out in front of you, of all people. But also because I completely messed up any chance I have of continuing to volunteer. And yeah, maybe I did start volunteering because of what you said to me. But I really like it, and now…" I was almost whining at the end and instead of continuing and giving Kostas more fodder for the Princess Violet-Hate-Club, I covered my face and sighed.
Kostas leaned forward. "Okay. Would it make you feel better if I told you that I pass out cold every time someone sticks me with a needle?"
"For like, a blood test?" I asked, a smile playing on my lips.
Kostas nodded. "Blood test. Blood donation. Vaccination. You name it. If it involves a needle going into my skin, BOOM. I'm out like a light."
I allowed myself a small smile. "Okay. That does make me feel a little bit better."
"And as far as the other thing goes, coming back here…" he trailed off, gesturing vaguely. "Aren't you an adult?"
I snorted. "No. I'm a spoiled little brat who still uses Daddy's credit card."
He looked down for a moment. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know why I keep saying these horrible things to you."
"Because they're true?" I shrilled, unable to keep the waver out of my voice any longer. The hard lump in my throat was stuck there, apparently.
"They are not true," he said adamantly. "If they were true, you wouldn't be here. You'd be out using your Daddy's credit cards. You certainly wouldn't be cutting open your hand in a soup kitchen."
"I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't be so quick to snark at you."
"Why not? I like it when you snark at me."
I could feel my cheeks reddening and I looked down at my hands. "I guess that's good to hear. Since it's all I ever do."
What was I doing? Kostas was an impossibility! I knew that. I knew I had two princes lined up by my parents and theirs, and yet I kept flirting with something I could never have.
"See?" He leaned over, nudging my shoulder with his. "We're friends already. You snark at me, and I like it? What more is there?"
I smiled, not trying to hide it any longer.
"And really, your Highness," he continued. "You are the nicest woman who has ever hit me with a car."
I laughed, even if it came out a bit watery. "Have you been hit by many cars?"
"No, just the one. But it's still the truth. Of course, you're also the meanest woman to ever hit me with a car, but eh…" He shrugged. "Details."
"Well, then," I managed to grin.
"And I'll tell you what. You can come with me the next time I have to get blood drawn. You can watch me hit my head on the counter, because it always happens. Then you can hold my hand until I wake up. Deal?"
"Sure. It's a date," I said quickly, without thinking about my phrasing. He didn't react, simply took my hand and shook it. Sealing the deal. The date. The date deal.
"Now, my next physical is eight months away. So we really should go out at least once between now and then. In the interest of good faith." He grinned again. I was struck by how attractive I found him. It was so much harder to ignore when he was being so charming.
I pursed my lips to keep from laughing. "Are you asking me out?"
"In keeping with the spirit of good faith," he reiterated. "I think it's the responsible thing to do, don't you, Princess?"
I knew I shouldn't. I have two eligible suitors waiting for me. I also knew it wasn't proper for me to be seen with Kostas in a romantic setting. If anyone saw us, if anyone recognized me, the tabloids would run rampant.
But I was so sick of doing the proper thing.
This past week, when I wasn't doing the proper thing, had been the most fun I'd ever had. The evening I spent with Prince Gideon at the ship dedication, defying my rigid schedule and hiding from my duties, had also been one of the most fun nights I'd ever had.
I was starting to think that being improper was my natural state.
Yes, Kostas was an asshole. But so was I. And there was no way this could turn into anything serious. I could have the date and then I would have to move on and choose which Etrian prince I wanted to marry. It could all work out. And even if it didn't, maybe I'd be the first queen to choose three husbands.
That thought was almost laughable. I wasn't going to just take Gideon's word on his brother. And like I had already realized, Kostas was impossible. There was no way I could carry on with a commoner.
But Prince Tristan was coming soon, and with him, Prince Gideon. Perhaps a little fling was exactly what I needed. Practice? Something to give me a better idea of what I wanted when I was making my choice?
It was all so very laughable. I hadn't had any suitors for nearly twenty-two years. And now I had two for serious and one for fun.
Instead of laughing, however, I found myself nodding. "Yes. Definitely the responsible thing."
It was the furthest from the responsible thing, but maybe it would circle back around and became responsible again. That happened, right?
He offered his hand again.
"One more thing, Mr. Esker?"
"Kostas," he corrected me.
"Kostas," I repeated. "I'd prefer it if you called me Vi."
"I'd prefer that too, to be honest."
George was going to have kittens over this. Forget kittens. George was going to have a whole litter of overfed mountain lions.
I couldn't bring myself to care. I slipped my hand into Kostas' to shake on the date-deal. He didn't let go.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Violet
I cradled my phone against the side of my face as my fingers traced the pattern on my bedspread. My ear and jaw were sweating from the sheer length of time I'd been talking on it. My cheeks hurt from smiling.
All in all, it wasn't a bad feeling, even if I was frustrated.
"So it's a no go for Tuesday, then?" I asked, trying not to let the disappointment read through in my tone.
"No," Kostas replied, sounding just as disappointed as I was trying not to sound. "I've got to go in early on Wednesday morning."
As it turned out, it was difficult for the princess of Justana to arrange a super-secret date with a bicycle courier.
I had been expecting obstacles, I just wasn't expecting anything of this magnitude. It would seem both the universe and my social calendar were conspiring against me. I was constantly busy.
And that was just on my end! Working around Kostas' work schedule was another matter in and of itself.
Between his job taking up his days, and the various social obligations taking up most of my evenings, we were having trouble finding the time to meet privately. Seeing as secrecy was a novelty I apparently couldn't enjoy, we had to settle for phone calls and texting to keep in touch.
"What about Thursday?" he asked. "I don't go in until noon on Friday."
"I've got this… dinner thing," I replied. "I can't skip it, unfortunately. George is still mad about what happened at the soup kitchen, so I'm trying to placate him."
I wasn't surprised, but Amanda hadn't managed to conceal the fact that I had accidentally cut myself and passed out at the soup kitchen. The news of the my public fainting made its way out of the kitchen and into the ears of my stuffed shirt advisor.
It basically meant I had to suffer through a visit from the court doctor to look over a cut that wasn't really that bad (although, to h
ear George tell it, I'd sliced my finger clean off). It also meant that my advisor was being absolutely impossible. A haughty, smug monster.
Most importantly, it meant that my days volunteering at the soup kitchen were decidedly over.
"I wish he wasn't such a tight-ass," Kostas lamented. "Or that you could just go do your own thing and he could fuck off."
"That's the dream," I replied. "But it makes my life so much easier when he's not up my rear end constantly. I can either volunteer at the soup kitchen, or I can take advantage of one of his afternoons off and we can have our date?"
"Does it make me a terrible person if I'd rather you did the latter?" he asked, chuckling softly.
As much as I had enjoyed working in the soup kitchen/restaurant, it paled in comparison to the loss I felt at not being able to see Kostas as much as I wanted. Or at all, really. So I definitely got what he was saying.
"If it makes you feel any better, I'm sending them a regular donation to compensate," I replied.
"It makes me feel a little bit better," he said. "But I'd feel ecstatic if we could find a day that worked for both of us."
"I know. Same here," I replied, smiling fondly even though he couldn't see my face.
And that thought was accompanied by a pang of guilt. Because even while I was on the phone with Kostas, I was also still thinking about Gideon.
I still didn't know what it was about the Etrian heir. My feelings for him hadn't changed, I still found him devastatingly handsome and charming. And yet…
My feelings for Kostas continued on unchanged as well.
I wasn't sure how I managed to get anything done. I couldn't stop thinking about either of the men in my life and blushing at inopportune moments.
Kostas' crooked smile would come unbidden into my mind and my heart would flutter. My stomach would swoop. He made me swoon. So did Gideon, but since I'd technically already swooned in the former's presence that day at the soup kitchen, I knew Kostas would catch me.
On the other hand, I also knew what it felt like to be in Gideon's arms, so I was at a glorious impasse.
Unsuitable_Part 1 of a Reverse Harem Royal Romance Page 6
