Page 17 of The Packaged Deal
All I want to do is protect her. Wipe that frown away and make her smile again.
Wait, what? I think I’m going insane.
“Would you like to order room service?” I ask instead, following my head down the pathway of making the omega happy.
“Sure,” Jade says and bounces over to me, all traces of that mature sorrow buried again.
I grin and help her order one of everything. As long as it takes that look out of her eyes. I don’t care.
After that, I set up movies on the enormous screen in the lounge. I get the heater going and make us both a coffee.
“Okay, why lilac?” I burst out after ten minutes of trying to think of something to ask that doesn’t make me sound like an ass or creepy.
Jade smirks. “You like it?”
“I love it. It’s pretty.” It’s not. I'm lying. Her hair is beautiful. She is incredibly hot, and her attractiveness is only growing by the hour. In vain, I fight it.
“My grandmother used to wear lilac butterflies in her hair. She was a very opinionated woman. My mother stopped me seeing her when I was about nine. But I always remember the way she would say ‘horseshit!’ and those lilac butterflies.”
Damn. She’s getting under my skin. I'm saved by the door. I get up, checking through the screen to find our room service delivery. With a wary glare into the hallways, I open the door and allow him entry. Five deliveries will come over the next four hours, but this is the start.
Jade wanders towards me as I let the man inside. He keeps his eyes down and, with exquisite professionalism, he arranges our entries.
Jade’s eyes twinkle.
“This is incredible.”
“It’s just started,” I say, suddenly finding myself looking forward to this night.
She watches the movie, her eyes wide. Laughing freely, so expressive.
I find myself watching the way her lashes fall on her cheeks. Her small hands and ultra feminine fingers. That quick smile.
She fascinates me.
She fascinates Sven.
Why?
I'm determined to find out, but with each mouthful of food, with each tinkling laugh, I feel like I'm sliding into her web.
There is something charming about the way she just blurts out what she’s thinking.
She laughs freely, smiles quickly, and when she’s sad, her face falls.
I'm as entranced watching her facial expressions as I am the way she gracefully moves. A couple of times, she’s looked across at me, and I’ve looked away quickly, unwilling to explain why I'm staring at her and not the movie.
“Kandi?”
I make an appropriate hum sound. “Yes?”
“What is Sven like?”
“Sven?” I sit up from the slouch I’ve been in. “Well, he’s a good guy. Why?”
“I just want to know if I can trust him to protect me?”
I relax. “Sven is methodical, but he’s smart. He understands things most of us miss. He’s loyal and brave and generous.”