King of Hearts
Page 40
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“Do you mind if I order up some food?” he asked then.
“Not at all, go ahead.”
He stood and walked to the phone, dialling room service. “I haven’t had the chance to eat yet,” he said as he waited for them to pick up.
“Not in the mood for a side of gonorrhoea with your steak?” I asked, grinning.
King half-smiled, half-grimaced back at me before he began speaking down the line. He ordered a pizza, and I kind of liked the sound of that. What? I enjoyed eating, and I was in flippin’ Italy, of all places. I was determined to take every chance to sample the cuisine that I could. King finished his call and returned to his seat.
“You look comfortable.”
“I am.”
A silence elapsed, King staring at me dead on, before I said, “Can I ask a question?”
His eyes pierced me. “Go ahead.”
“What’s up with this deal? Something about it has you agitated.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again before replying, “It’s a little difficult to explain, but you’re right, I am agitated. Let’s just say I’ll be happy when we have the contracts signed and are on a plane back to London.”
“Huh.”
A silence elapsed as I studied him, then asked gently, “How has your mum been?”
My question took him off guard, as he brought his eyes to mine. For a split second I saw the sadness in them, and it caused my heart to thump harder. “She’s okay,” he answered, then paused, shaking his head. “Well, no, that’s not quite true. You saw how she’s been living — there’s nothing okay about it. But she’s been unwell in her mind for a long time, and sometimes that’s the worst type of illness. At least with a physical ailment you can find the cause and treat it. Mental illness is so much harder to get a handle on. Some days are better than others, but they’re never what you’d consider normal.”
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked, my voice soft.
“Severe anxiety and paranoia, paired with a bad case of agoraphobia. She rarely likes to leave the house.”
I wanted to ask what had caused all that, but I knew it was none of my business, so I simply took his hand in mine and squeezed. “That must be awful.”
When he looked at me, his expression was pained, and for a second it felt like all the turmoil inside him was about to flood out. “It is awful. Do you ever wish, Alexis, that your heart was just that little bit smaller, so that you didn’t have to care quite so much?”
His question knocked the air right out of me. When we’d started having this conversation, I never expected it would turn so deep. I squeezed his hand once more and whispered, “Never. The bigger our hearts, the more beautiful our souls.”
Our eyes connected, his moving back and forth between mine as he absorbed my words, my meaning. I hadn’t anticipated my answer; it just seemed to come out naturally. For a long moment we sat there in contemplative silence. I didn’t want him to be down, though, and tried to cheer him up when I said, “So, how do you feel about romantic comedies?”
He blinked at me, bringing himself back to the present, and with no small amount of sarcasm, replied, “Oh, I adore them.”
“Well, isn’t that just fabulous, because you’re going to join me in watching one,” I said, ignoring his sassy attitude and patting the space beside me. King rose from his seat next to the bed and crawled on. I don’t know, there was just something about the visual that gave me tingles. A bed was new territory for us, and it inevitably made my mind wander. I hit “play” on the movie and King settled in next to me, our elbows touching. I tried to ignore the clean smell of his shower gel and the familiar scent of his cologne, but it was hard.
Man, I could seriously go for a bottle of that stuff…you know, just to have at home and spritz on my pillows every time I wanted to torture myself.
“What kind of cologne do you wear?” I blurted, because I’m me and that’s what I do. I blurt.
King’s eyes came to mine slowly, and they seemed curious. “Do you like it?”
I sucked in a deep breath. “Uh-huh.”
“It’s Estee Lauder Pleasures for Men.”
I let out a guffaw. “Ha! Why do they always insist on giving these things embarrassing names? It’s almost like they don’t want people to buy them.”
King shifted in his place and sighed. “Cynical marketing ploy, I assume. By naming it ‘Pleasures,’ they imagine our brains will make the connection that if we buy the product, it’ll somehow bring us exactly that: pleasure. I, for one, just like how it smells.”
“Ah, but has it ever brought you pleasure?” I teased. “That’s the question.”
He shot me a lazy glance and tilted his head. “I’m still waiting to find out.”
“Oh, you’re a scoundrel,” I declared, and slapped him lightly on the shoulder.
King just shook his head and returned his attention to the TV while muttering under his breath, “I wasn’t joking.”
I shot him a wide-eyed glance, but he was still staring at the screen. A silence filled the room. It would have been worse if it weren’t for the movie playing in the background. I felt a blush creep up my neck and glanced down to see King flex his hand, repeatedly opening and closing his fist. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, so I could see his forearms, and as usual they were way too much of a distraction. I began to feel a funny sensation, both in my chest and between my legs. An ache. My imagination was working overtime, showing me just how easily it would be for him to roll on top of me right then and make me see stars.
“Not at all, go ahead.”
He stood and walked to the phone, dialling room service. “I haven’t had the chance to eat yet,” he said as he waited for them to pick up.
“Not in the mood for a side of gonorrhoea with your steak?” I asked, grinning.
King half-smiled, half-grimaced back at me before he began speaking down the line. He ordered a pizza, and I kind of liked the sound of that. What? I enjoyed eating, and I was in flippin’ Italy, of all places. I was determined to take every chance to sample the cuisine that I could. King finished his call and returned to his seat.
“You look comfortable.”
“I am.”
A silence elapsed, King staring at me dead on, before I said, “Can I ask a question?”
His eyes pierced me. “Go ahead.”
“What’s up with this deal? Something about it has you agitated.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair again before replying, “It’s a little difficult to explain, but you’re right, I am agitated. Let’s just say I’ll be happy when we have the contracts signed and are on a plane back to London.”
“Huh.”
A silence elapsed as I studied him, then asked gently, “How has your mum been?”
My question took him off guard, as he brought his eyes to mine. For a split second I saw the sadness in them, and it caused my heart to thump harder. “She’s okay,” he answered, then paused, shaking his head. “Well, no, that’s not quite true. You saw how she’s been living — there’s nothing okay about it. But she’s been unwell in her mind for a long time, and sometimes that’s the worst type of illness. At least with a physical ailment you can find the cause and treat it. Mental illness is so much harder to get a handle on. Some days are better than others, but they’re never what you’d consider normal.”
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked, my voice soft.
“Severe anxiety and paranoia, paired with a bad case of agoraphobia. She rarely likes to leave the house.”
I wanted to ask what had caused all that, but I knew it was none of my business, so I simply took his hand in mine and squeezed. “That must be awful.”
When he looked at me, his expression was pained, and for a second it felt like all the turmoil inside him was about to flood out. “It is awful. Do you ever wish, Alexis, that your heart was just that little bit smaller, so that you didn’t have to care quite so much?”
His question knocked the air right out of me. When we’d started having this conversation, I never expected it would turn so deep. I squeezed his hand once more and whispered, “Never. The bigger our hearts, the more beautiful our souls.”
Our eyes connected, his moving back and forth between mine as he absorbed my words, my meaning. I hadn’t anticipated my answer; it just seemed to come out naturally. For a long moment we sat there in contemplative silence. I didn’t want him to be down, though, and tried to cheer him up when I said, “So, how do you feel about romantic comedies?”
He blinked at me, bringing himself back to the present, and with no small amount of sarcasm, replied, “Oh, I adore them.”
“Well, isn’t that just fabulous, because you’re going to join me in watching one,” I said, ignoring his sassy attitude and patting the space beside me. King rose from his seat next to the bed and crawled on. I don’t know, there was just something about the visual that gave me tingles. A bed was new territory for us, and it inevitably made my mind wander. I hit “play” on the movie and King settled in next to me, our elbows touching. I tried to ignore the clean smell of his shower gel and the familiar scent of his cologne, but it was hard.
Man, I could seriously go for a bottle of that stuff…you know, just to have at home and spritz on my pillows every time I wanted to torture myself.
“What kind of cologne do you wear?” I blurted, because I’m me and that’s what I do. I blurt.
King’s eyes came to mine slowly, and they seemed curious. “Do you like it?”
I sucked in a deep breath. “Uh-huh.”
“It’s Estee Lauder Pleasures for Men.”
I let out a guffaw. “Ha! Why do they always insist on giving these things embarrassing names? It’s almost like they don’t want people to buy them.”
King shifted in his place and sighed. “Cynical marketing ploy, I assume. By naming it ‘Pleasures,’ they imagine our brains will make the connection that if we buy the product, it’ll somehow bring us exactly that: pleasure. I, for one, just like how it smells.”
“Ah, but has it ever brought you pleasure?” I teased. “That’s the question.”
He shot me a lazy glance and tilted his head. “I’m still waiting to find out.”
“Oh, you’re a scoundrel,” I declared, and slapped him lightly on the shoulder.
King just shook his head and returned his attention to the TV while muttering under his breath, “I wasn’t joking.”
I shot him a wide-eyed glance, but he was still staring at the screen. A silence filled the room. It would have been worse if it weren’t for the movie playing in the background. I felt a blush creep up my neck and glanced down to see King flex his hand, repeatedly opening and closing his fist. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, so I could see his forearms, and as usual they were way too much of a distraction. I began to feel a funny sensation, both in my chest and between my legs. An ache. My imagination was working overtime, showing me just how easily it would be for him to roll on top of me right then and make me see stars.
