struck me as the type.
“Old dogs know the best tricks,” he advises me. “And getting a girl to fall in love with you is the oldest trick in the book, as well as the hardest.”
My blood turns to ice at his words, freezing me to the spot. “I don’t want her to fall in love with me.”
I mean it with every ounce of my body. Falling in love with me would be the worst mistake Clara could ever make.
Norris doesn’t respond, but I see the doubt in his pale, blue eyes. I try to see the situation as he does. I’ve gone after this woman repeatedly. I’ve broken my promise to stay away. I’ve invited her to meet my family.
“I’m not in love with her,” I tell him.
“You don’t have to convince me.” He sounds…amused.
“But you’re probably right,” I continue ignoring the laughter he’s obviously suppressing. “If she has to put up with my family this evening, she deserves more than a note. Do you have any suggestions?”
This is new territory for me. I’ve rarely done so much as buy a woman dinner in the past. It’s never been requisite to getting one into bed, and I’ve never felt the need to have a second go with a woman once I’d had her. I suppose dating requires a bit more in the activity department. Although I doubt she’ll complain about the orgasms in her future.
“Flowers, sir,” he says. “Flowers are always well-received.”
“Will we have time to pick some up?” I could always go to the garden and find some myself, but I can guarantee the staff will gossip. I’d rather my father not know that I’m bringing a date tonight. The element of surprise is all I have working in my favor. With any luck, he’ll be too shocked to be rude.
I don’t hold high hopes for this method.
“Allow me. I need to deliver this after all.” Norris flashes me the card. “What kind of flowers do you want to give her?”
I recall when I was very little, and my mother helped me address valentines to my primary school class. We chose one for each student based on my whims. She would look at the list of children’s names and say, “What makes you think of Annie, darling?” At the time, my answers were selfish or stupid or some mixture of the two.
My mother would like Clara. She’d tell me what flowers to give her or help me decide. I can almost hear her ask me now: what makes you think of Clara, darling?
I think of the blush that creeps over Clara’s porcelain skin when I say something filthy to her, of the color of her lips after I kiss her for hours, of the way I imagine her delicate flesh would redden under my palm.
“Red roses. I’ll give her red roses.” Beautiful and delicate like her, but with thorns as dangerous as this arrangement.
Chapter Thirteen
Her flat isn’t what I expect. Clara belongs in a tower, locked safely away from the world. Instead, she lives in East London in a pre-war flat that looks less than average. I can’t help noticing the lack of security for the building. She’s far too exposed here. We’re lucky there’s a back entrance and that Norris has found a quiet backstreet not populated by paparazzi that leads directly to it. The man deserves a raise or a knighthood. I doubt he’d accept either.
“We should put someone on her,” I say to Norris. He’s riding shotgun this evening since we’ve taken a limousine.
“Your father isn’t going to like it,” he mutters.
“My father never likes anything I do,” I remind him.
“I’ll look into it.” Norris opens his car door and exits the limo.
I follow suit, and he stares at me.
“Sir?”
“I’m going to pick her up.” I reach inside and pick up the bouquet I’ve brought for her. It’s enough that he’s stuck running my errands. I didn’t even buy the flowers. “This is a date. I should play the part.”
He pauses, weighing his options. He knows me well enough to know that I’m going inside with or without him. “I’ll be right here.”
Having a bodyguard at the back door isn’t exactly normal as far as I know, but it’s as close as I’m likely to get. I nod, relieved for the small bit of ordinary I’m allowed, and head inside.
I take the stairs two at a time despite my tuxedo. I practically grew up in formal wear, but now it feels restrictive. I’d grown used to