In Flight (Up in the Air #1)(55)

“Fine. Ask me anything,” he said through clenched teeth.

“How many women have you slept with?” I asked, and immediately wanted to kick myself. If I was going to reveal my feelings so recklessly, I would have preferred a better question.

“A lot. I haven’t been counting. More than I’m proud of. Mostly submissive’s in the last five years or so, and, for the most part, very short acquaintances.”

“Have you ever had a serious relationship?” I plowed on, hoping he wouldn’t make me reveal two things as well, though if he tried, I was ready to point out that he hadn’t technically answered my first question.

“No. I was basically a slut in college, if I’m honest. I f**ked any hot woman I saw. And after that, I found girls with very specific tastes, but it was never about anything but sex and dominance.”

I sighed, not knowing if I was relieved or appalled. I’d have to examine my feelings later.

“I was born in the states,” I began. “My parents, however, were both from Sweden and spoke with heavy accents. I had a slight accent myself, until they were gone. Then I tried to lose it. It comes back sometimes. I don’t know why.”

“It’s lovely. I don’t know why you would make an effort to disguise it.”

I gave him my little shrug, not looking at him. “Stephan and I stood out enough already. We attended a few high schools together. We were inseparable even then, but I didn’t want to make us stand out even more with a strange accent. We were already the only two ridiculously tall blonds at every school we went to. We were a head taller than everyone else there.”

I glanced at him.

He was focused on me with that certain look on his face that made me think he was soaking up every scrap of information I fed him.

I fell silent. He had actually gotten me to chat about myself. I was a little dismayed at the realization.

Eventually James went back to answering his phone, and I went outside to put the chicken on my tiny charcoal grill. I texted Stephan that dinner would be ready in twenty minutes.

He brought a bottle of red wine, revealing it with a flourish.

I gave him a wry smile. We both knew he would be the only one drinking it. He grinned back, going directly into the kitchen to open it and pour himself a glass.

“Would anyone like some?” he asked politely.

James shook his head, ending his phone call quickly.

I refused, and James sent me a warm look. The man did not like alcohol, it was clear.

I served dinner as soon as it was ready, and there wasn’t even a hint of awkwardness while we ate dinner, chatting amiably. I enjoyed it while it lasted. Both men complimented the simple meal lavishly.

“So Bianca tells me you two went to high school together here in Las Vegas. And that you towered a head above everyone else there.”

Stephan laughed, sending me a surprised but pleased look.

“Yes,” he said. “Everyone called us Barbie and Ken. They all thought we were a couple, since I carried her backpack and walked her to every class.”

James smiled a cheshire cat smile.

Sneaky bastard, I thought. I saw his plan clearly now. He was going to get some free information out of Stephan.

“Bianca wouldn’t admit it at the time, but the nickname embarrassed the hell out of her,” Stephan continued.

James was all charm and smiles now, a man getting everything he wanted through a clearly easier route. “And what about her other nickname? Where did Buttercup come from?”

“Remember that old movie, Princess Bride?” Stephan asked James, not even hesitating to open up.

James nodded.

“We used to love that movie. This…” Stephan’s glance shot to mine as he paused, “place where we used to hang out a lot used to show it on movie night. It was the only movie on movie night. Ever. We could both quote you every single line. So I took to calling her Princess Buttercup. You have to admit she kind of looks like the actress in the movie, the one that played the princess. And as a teenager, she even kind of acted like her, very haughty and proud, but still so sweet to me. She was annoyed with the nickname at first, but it grew on her when it became just Buttercup.”

“Good movie. Now I want to watch it again. I haven’t seen it since I was a kid,” James said, still smiling.

Stephan smiled brilliantly. “I can’t think of anything I’d like to do more. I have the movie at my house. And ice cream. What do you say, Buttercup? Dessert and a movie at my place tonight?”

I agreed readily enough.

Stephan headed next door to find the movie and get his house ready. We stayed behind to clean up dinner.

James insisted on helping, clearing the table and washing dishes while I put the food away.

“This is not exactly what I pictured when you talked about not dating,” I told him carefully. “Hanging out with my best friend and watching movies feels pretty personal.”

He turned to me, looking baffled. “I never said anything about not getting personal. I intend for us to get very personal, Buttercup.”

His answer perplexed me, but I chalked it up to him being too rich and spoiled. Even his most casual affairs had to have a rich eccentricity to them…

We watched the movie and had ice cream and then popcorn at Stephan’s house. It was a highly enjoyable day overall, I thought, even with some bumpy conversations in the road.