Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Jude sees me looking and reaches for my hand. “Ignore them.”
“They’ll put in a complaint.”
“And what will happen?” he asks. “I’ll be asked to leave my own restaurant?”
I laugh. True.
“They don’t know that I just fucked you with my fingers, Amelia. They’re just curious.”
“About me?”
“Yes, about you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re here with me.” He flicks his eyes to mine briefly, looking hesitant, as if he’s not sure he should have said that.
I smile, and he rolls his eyes. It’s adorable. I was right. He’s never brought a woman here.
“So tell me about your previous relationships,” he says, a definite edge of hesitance lingering.
“Is that wise?” I ask, coy. He looks at me out the corner of his eye. He’s wondering if it’s wise too.
“You mentioned you were on a breakup diet of wine and work.”
I hum to myself. Now it’s wine, work, and Jude Harrison. I take a breath and take the plunge. “I recently ended a long-term relationship.” His head tilts. “His name was Nick.”
“You ended it?”
I nod, chewing at the corner of my lip, uncomfortable. “We wanted different things.”
Jude sits back, interested. “Care to elaborate?”
“He wanted commitment, I wanted a career.”
“Commitment . . .”
“Marriage and babies.”
“Sounds disgusting.” He smirks, and I laugh, feeling the tension leave the table. “So he’s out of the picture?”
Nick’s out of my picture, yes. I’m not sure I’m out of his. But I say yes anyway, because Jude’s short history with men around me isn’t pleasant. The poor man in the steam room, case in point. I don’t love Nick, but I wouldn’t wish Jude’s temper on him. “And what about you?” I ask.
“Previous relationships?”
“Yes.” Do I want to know?
“Nothing significant,” he says quietly, smiling. But it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I question whether to push him. Do I want to know?
The waiter appears before I can answer my own question, placing two plates down and turning each one meticulously so the Arlington Hall crest is precisely at the top. Then he proceeds to give a description of everything on the plate, how it’s cooked, the ingredients, and where it’s all sourced. “Thank you, it looks delicious.”
“Thanks, Ken,” Jude murmurs, sitting back. “Dig in.”
I collect my silverware. “I’m not sure one should dig into a plate that looks this good.” It’s a masterpiece. I slice off a piece of lamb from the cutlet and hum, the meat literally melting in my mouth, the mint strong but not overpowering. “This is really good.”
“It is,” he agrees, starting to eat too. And now he’s got me off while listening to me pant an answer to every question he had, it’s his turn to go deep.
“Do you have any siblings?” I ask.
“Two brothers,” he answers. “I’m the eldest. Rhys is twenty-eight, Casey is thirty-one.”
Rhys. It was his brother who called him. “And you’re . . . ?”
He tips a small smile my way. “Thirty-five. And you’ve just turned thirty.”
“Did you memorise all the private information you hold on me when you abused your position of power?”
“Yes,” he says, reaching for his napkin and wiping the corner of his mouth. “I’ve been abusing my position of power since I met you.” He frowns a little, lost in thought for a moment. God, I’d give anything to know what those thoughts are.
“Can I ask about your parents?” I say tentatively, focusing on my cauliflower puree, mixing the rich gravy with it. When I see him pushing a carrot around his plate out the corner of my eye, I know I’ve hit a raw nerve. He’s staring at his dinner.
“Dad died when I was twenty-four.” He smiles to himself, but it’s such a sad smile. “Mum was lost without him. When she found Arlington Hall, it lifted her. Gave her something to focus on. Obviously, it didn’t look like this then.”
I instinctively reach for his hand. He was too young to lose his dad. I won’t ask how he died, that would be insensitive. And his mother too?
Jude looks at my hand in his and squeezes it. “I don’t know what she saw in the place, or how she even came to be out here. It was off the beaten track; she had no business being in the area.” I can see his mind travelling back in time. “She called me, told me she’d stumbled upon a beautiful building in the middle of nowhere and she wanted to buy it.” He huffs. “I was worried. It was so spontaneous, but I couldn’t bring myself to shit all over her excitement, so I let her drag me out here, and, Jesus, it was a fucking wreck.”
I smile. “Not anymore.”
“Not anymore,” he says, giving up on his dinner and placing his fork down, keeping hold of my hand on the table. “Mum died three years into the restoration.” He smiles at me, seeing my slight recoil. He lost them so close together? “She didn’t get to see Arlington Hall as you see it, and isn’t that a fucking tragedy?”