Entangled with the Prince - Elizabeth Lennox Page 0,29
the rooftop bar, but I don’t really have time to enjoy the view.
“Good. Now you can relax and enjoy the skyline while I watch you.”
She cringed. “I’m not much to look at,” she replied. “Better to look through the windows.”
He paused in the process of draping his napkin over his lap. “You’re lovely, Savannah. Why don’t you believe that?”
She shrugged and changed the subject. “Have you eaten here before?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful, then you can tell me what’s good on the menu.”
“Everything is good,” he said. “Why don’t you think that you’re attractive?”
She squinched up her nose as she read through the menu. “Lamb? I can’t eat lamb. I know some people love it, but I can’t eat something that’s on an Easter card.”
He chuckled. “You’re trying to change the subject, but I don’t think you understand how stubborn I can be.”
She huffed a bit, and put the menu down. “Look Gaelen, you’re obviously wealthy and many women, no judgement at all, need a wealthy man in their lives. That means that you have the most beautiful women possible at your beck and call.” She nodded towards an incredibly gorgeous blond woman sitting at a nearby table. “She keeps looking at you, hoping to get your attention.” She paused, “I think that’s Helen Giverny, by the way. So the fact that you have a movie star trying to gain your attention tells me that you’re the kind of man that has had many women over the years, all stunningly beautiful in one way or another.”
“I’ll admit that I haven’t been a monk, but…”
She held up a hand to stop his explanation. “I know that I’m not ugly, Gaelen. But I’m definitely not the kind of woman who can gain the attention of…”
“Who made you think you can’t gain a man’s attention, Savannah?” he demanded, a stern note to his voice.
Another slight shrug of her shoulder and she looked out the window. “I couldn’t even get the attention of my own father. Why would any other man be different?”
Gaelen blinked, stunned at what she’d just revealed. Her father hadn’t bothered to show her that she was worthy in his eyes? What kind of demented bastard would diminish their own child’s worth? “What did he do?” he asked, his voice softer now.
“Who?”
He reached over and took her hand. “Your father. What did he do to make you feel so invisible?”
Savannah stared at their fingers, startled by his question. “He didn’t do anything,” she replied. “He provided a safe home and food. I had everything I needed growing up.”
“Except love and affection, I’m guessing,” he countered. “And help with college expenses.”
She shrugged. “Parents aren’t required to pay for a child’s college expenses.”
“No, but it’s nice when they do.”
She tilted her head slightly. “I’ve made it on my own.”
“How many years has it taken you to make it on your own?”
She grinned, feeling a bit of pride. “Several years longer than I’d expected, but a couple of those years were wasted in a traditional university setting. I first went to college to study biology, but quickly realized that I wasn’t interested in the subject. Plus, the idea of blood and cells and other living organisms kind of gave me the willies. Not a good career path for me.”
“So, you dropped out of one school and enrolled in design classes?”
She grinned, shaking her head. “It wasn’t such a linear path. I enrolled in art school for a while, and was surprised at how much I liked the classes, but I quickly figured out that I wasn’t going to be a fabulous artist. I just don’t have the talent to paint or draw. But I discovered how much I love colors and textures. I have a good eye for shapes and, on a fluke, took a class on interior design. I fell in love with the concepts and, from that moment on, I knew what I wanted to do with my life. I love creating environments that soothe or excite. So many designers stick with a certain style in their designs. I challenge myself to come up with a different style with every project. It’s the most wonderful job!” she sighed happily. Then realized that she was rambling and pulled her hand away, hiding it under the table. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I tend to wax poetic. Most people aren’t that interested.”
“I am,” he countered.
The waiter arrived and Gaelen ordered a bottle of wine that she couldn’t pronounce even if she had the name right in front of her. Savannah