Ruthless Empire (Royal Elite #6)(61)

If I’m getting in the calories, might as well go all in. I’m too hungry after that experience in the club and I can’t trick my stomach into accepting salad.

“We could’ve eaten at home.” I study my French-manicured nails to not look at Cole.

Even though he’s reading from a book, he’s also been watching me in this intense way that turns me into a self-conscious fool. I’m not the type to get self-conscious. Ever.

Except when this wanker is involved.

“I’m hungry.” His voice drops with clear seduction.

“Well, you could’ve eaten at home.”

“I can’t wait until home.”

“Stop it,” I hiss, watching our surroundings. Thankfully, the place isn’t full at this time.

“Stop what? I’m only saying I’m hungry.”

“I know what you’re thinking, okay?”

“I doubt it.”

“You’re recalling what just happened in the club.” I lower my voice. “Don’t you dare bring it up to anyone.”

“Yes, Miss Prim and Proper,” he mocks. “But that’s not what I was thinking about.”

“No?”

“I was actually picturing eating you instead of the food we ordered.”

My lips part and I gulp, the image stabbing through my mind without permission. Just like Cole. He’s toying with my brain in more ways than one.

I clear my throat, opting to change the subject. “Is that book as depressing as the other book from that author?”

He’s reading Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami. When I was fourteen, I read Norwegian Wood by the same author after that quote. I spent the night crying with how the story turned out. I loved the hero so much, and I hated how fate dealt with his emotions.

“Haruki Murakami’s books aren’t depressing. They’re unique.”

Cole doesn’t read much fiction, if at all. He usually has his head buried in philosophy and psychological books. I know he loves Helen’s books, but they’re mostly psychological crime thrillers. I take a pause when he says he loves a certain fiction author who doesn’t write in the psychological vein.

“What’s so unique about them?” I ask.

“It’s his imagery. He wrenches you out of the world and he offers riddles without solutions, letting the readers solve them themselves. Everyone’s interpretation is different from the other. It’s art.”

I see it then. The gleam in his eyes whenever he reads said books. Cole likes the challenge and being immersed in something so deep, he forgets his surroundings. It’s his own form of chaos.

“Most find it frustrating, of course, and bombard the publisher with endless questions.”

“I think it’s beautiful.”

He lifts his head, raising a brow. “You do?”

“Yes, I think many people need surrealism and to be able to find their own solutions.” Like Cole.

I like Haruki for producing books that keep Cole invested and excited. I even forgive him for breaking my heart in Norwegian Wood.

The waitress brings us our pizzas and bats her lashes at him. Bitch.

“Uh, excuse me?” I force a fake smile. “I ordered mayonnaise with my French fries.”

“Coming right up.” She smiles one final time. I glare at her back as she leaves and even when she brings it to me.

“The service here sucks,” I grumble.

Cole smiles.

“What are you smiling at?”

“Your jealousy can be adorable, Butterfly.”

“I’m not jealous.” I take my first bite of pizza and burn my tongue. Ow!

Cole slides the cup of cola to me, still smiling in that blood-boiling way.

“I’m not jealous,” I insist, taking a slurp of the drink. “I just wanted my mayonnaise.”

“Who even eats mayonnaise with French fries when they have pizza?”

“I do.” I stuff one in my mouth.

He leans over the table so his face is mere inches away and he reaches a hand to me. I freeze. What is he doing? Is he going to kiss me in public or something?

Oh, God.

Cole wipes my nose and then sits back down. “You had something there.”

I release a long breath, not knowing if I should feel relieved or disappointed. What the hell is wrong with me?

We spend the rest of the meal in easy conversation about other fiction authors Cole reads, which aren’t a lot. Aside from Haruki Murakami, there’s Helen, John Le Carré, Honoré de Balzac, Kahlil Gibran, and Lee Child.

Speaking of, Cole says there’s a new release by Lee Child that he needs to buy, so we swing by the bookstore after we leave the restaurant. He teases me all the way about my mayonnaise eating habit. He really does enjoy getting on my nerves.

So in the bookstore, I load the dice against him. “Hey, nerd. You’re supposed to live your life, not spend it stuck in books.”

“I have both.” He retrieves a few copies from the new release shelf. “I have fun and read books.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Didn’t I just prove it in the club, Butterfly?”

Touché.

“You’re still a nerd, Cole.”

“You still find it hot. I know you watch me when I read.” He winks. “I watch you when I read, too. Especially in the pool.”