The Russian's Furious Fiancee Page 0,27
smiled slightly as he watched Eva walk into the restaurant. He was seated at the crowded bar, but he had a direct line of sight to where she was standing. She said something to the hostess who nodded and stepped away.
As he watched, he saw her pull out her compact and lipstick, touching up her makeup. She even pinched her cheeks to add a bit more color.
She was primping for him. With a smile of satisfaction, he knew that he’d won her over. Not that he’d had any doubts, but it was nice to see that she was interested in him. He’d never anticipated being this attracted to his fiancée, thought that attraction would be reserved for his mistresses while his marriage would be more of a business relationship. But the more he got to know Eva, the more he wanted her. And he wanted her exclusively to himself.
No, there would be no need to maintain a mistress when he wanted his wife like he currently did. And the idea of her taking a lover made him furious. Yes, this would definitely be a strong marriage. He had complete confidence that he could keep her satisfied in bed. What was even better, at least in his mind, was that there was no question she could do the same for him. Just the thought of those pretty hands on his skin again made him aching and hard.
Turning his thoughts to the present and, more importantly, to getting her to admit that she wanted him as well, he watched as she finger combed her hair.
Lifting his cell phone, he typed in a message, then waited until she received the text.
Eva felt her cell phone vibrate and looked at the screen. “Sorry, running a little late. But I bet you’re trying to impress me so you’re already at the restaurant, aren’t you?”
Her mouth literally dropped open and she looked around, wondering what she should do. She definitely couldn’t stay here and have him find her here. She absolutely didn’t want him to think she wanted to impress him. Leave it to him to turn punctuality into a benefit to him. “I’m actually running a bit late myself. See you at the restaurant,” she texted back.
Spinning on her heel, she turned around and walked out of the restaurant, standing in front and wondering where she could go for the next five minutes. She genuinely relished these battles and wanted to best him at least once. The man was simply too confident. She’d love to take him down a notch.
A part of her knew that she respected him more because she hadn’t been able to win any of their battles yet. He challenged her, forced her to think in different ways and he never, ever cowed down to her demands the way her other dates had done.
Maybe that’s why she hadn’t slept with any of them? She considered that for a moment while she looked around for a place to hide until he arrived at the restaurant. What if she hadn’t really found any of her previous boyfriends attractive because they weren’t confident enough? What did that tell her about these ridiculous feelings she was having towards Damon, who was confidence personified?
She glanced down again to the cell phone still in her hand when it vibrated again. “Which means you’re probably running late to try and show me that you’re not attracted to me. But we know it’s all a game, isn’t it?”
“Ugh! That man!” she snapped out loud and angrily stormed back into the elegant restaurant with as much dignity as possible even though she probably looked ridiculous going in and out of the lobby. She ignored the maître‘d’s curious look when she stopped in the middle of the carpet, trying to determine her next move.
She was in a quandary now. If she stayed and was here first, he would think she was eager to see him. If she left and showed up later, he would think she was playing games to gain his attention. What in the world was she supposed to do? She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t.
She pulled her lipstick and mirror out of her purse just as another text arrived. “Be sure and look beautiful for me. I’m eager to see you again.”
“Damn him!” she snapped and tossed her red lipstick back into her matching purse. She glanced down at her red dress, wondering if she should have chosen something else. The boring black crepe