#Chapter 459 – Dinner with the Prince
Ella
Conner opens my car door and gives an odd little bow as I get out of it.
“What on earth was that?” I ask, grinning at him.
Conner, to his credit, blushes a little as he gives me a shrug. “I don’t know, you’re a Queen now. Aren’t I supposed to bow?”
I wrinkle my nose at him. “I have no idea,” I say, laughing, pleased when he laughs with me and closes the car door behind me. “But since neither of us know, maybe we should cut it out?”
“All right,” he says with a grin, looking up towards the restaurant where Calvin asked me to meet him. I’m a little thrilled, honestly, to be out of the palace for the first time in weeks and also pleased that this was kept quiet enough that there is no press here to capture the moment.
“I’m glad you’re here, Conner,” I say quietly, taking a deep breath to steel myself.
“Anytime, Luna,” he murmurs, and he keeps close by my side as I walk up the stairs.
I’m relieved to see, when I get inside, that the restaurant is dark and only about half full, all of the patrons gathered in deep booths so that I can only see the tops of their heads. I smile to myself, thinking that the Prince chose his venue well.
“This way, Highness,” a young woman says, smiling at me and leading me not into the dining room but towards a small elevator. The three of us are a bit packed in, but the ride is short – just to the second floor. When the door slides open, the young woman smiles and gestures forward into a very small, very pretty private dining room. There’s even a little balcony terrace outside that looks absolutely gorgeous in the moonlight.
Calvin is sitting alone at a table, looking at his phone with a half-full glass of wine in front of him. When I step into the room he looks up and he smiles.
And damn it, but I have to admit…he’s really good looking. Not as good looking as Sinclair – I mean, at least not to me but the way that smile lights his face, and those cheekbones, and those violet eyes?
Damn.
But I don’t have much time to think on it as he stands up and holds out a hand to me, inviting me to the table.
I smile myself, not needing to force it as I cross the room to take his hand. That buzz of electricity passes between us as he leans forward, murmuring a greeting and intending to brush the barest kiss against my cheek – nothing inappropriate, nothing that wouldn’t pass between an ambassador and a Queen
But he flinches back at the last moment, and I smirk a little, considering that he probably got a whiff of precisely how much Sinclair has marked me as his tonight.
Calvin hesitates as if tempted, but then he pulls away.
Still, something flutters in me at the nearness of this man.
What the hell is going on?
“I’m so glad you came,” Calvin says, gesturing towards my seat. Then, to my surprise, he looks beyond me at Conner, who is standing a few paces behind. “Will you be joining us?”
I turn to look at Conner, my eyebrows raised
“No,” Conner says, nodding and smiling a little in recognition of the graciousness of the invitation. “I’m fine over here,” he gestures towards a little couch in the corner of the room, where he’ll be close enough to protect me but far enough to give us our privacy.
Calvin nods to him and Conner moves away. I smile a little as I sit.
“Honestly,” Calvin says, his voice hesitating a little, “I wasn’t sure if you were coming.”
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I say, though… well, I’m not really sorry, am I? My mate needed a little reassurance and I’m happy to give it to him, even if it’s at Calvin’s expense.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, peering at me, truly trying to assess what he can do to make me comfortable. “I know that nine in the evening is late for a dinner in your culture -”
I smile at him, pleased at his solicitousness – because I honestly get the impression that he cares. He wanted to have this dinner so that we can talk, but if I’m hungry? He wants me to eat.
“Actually, I am a little hungry,” I say, leaning forward with a laugh. “And thirsty, if there’s more wine.”
“Always more wine,” he murmurs, raising a hand and signaling to a waiter I didn’t see. The waiter comes forward and fills a waiting glass for me.
“I haven’t had much to drink lately,” I say quietly, raising the glass to my lips and savoring the taste of the rich red. ” But one can’t hurt, can it?”
“Can’t hurt what?” Calvin asks, leaning forward in his curiosity. He frowns at me, genuinely not getting it.
“The baby,” I say, looking at him like it’s obvious while he takes a long sip of his drink. “Rafe’s only a few months old – I’m still breastfeeding, Calvin
And then I stop, and burst into laughter, because Calvin chokes a little on his wine and turns beet red.
“Seriously?” I say, leaning forward, unable to stop my grin. “Is that should I not have said that? Is that embarrassing for you?”
He clears his throat and looks down at the table, embarrassed, though I see him smiling and shaking his head. “No, Highness, it’s -”
“Ella,” I correct, my voice pleading.
“Ella,” he says, looking up at me a little now, growing more comfortable. ” It’s just honestly, I’ve never heard a woman say that before.”
“Really?” I say, leaning forward and looking at him with wide eyes, setting my glass down on the table next to me. “I mean, did you know – ”
“Of course I know,” he says, laughing and rolling his eyes at me. “I understand the mechanics of how young babies are fed, it’s just…” he leans back, running a hand through his hair, “honestly, Ella, women in my world never, ever talk to men about that sort of thing. And it’s not that I agree with that, or think they shouldn’t I was just…surprised.”
Slowly, I shake my head at him, holding his eyes. “You know I think that’s crazy, right?”
He laughs, nodding, and I laugh with him.
“I do know that,” Calvin says on a sigh. “And I agree. It is…crazy, that in my world women and men are so separate. It is something which I’d like to see changed, but which is so ingrained in our culture that it’s going to take generations to really shift.”
I nod, understanding. And then I tilt my head at him, interested to see how easy this conversation already is. Because even if we’re talking about a really complicated subject that’s difficult for him? The way that we’re talking – it’s like speaking with an old friend, someone I’ve known my whole life.
I’m not surprised for a moment, then, when the conversation from there flows easily. Calvin asks questions about my life and I tell him everything, readily, easily – all about Cora, and my sweet baby Rafe, and growing up in the orphanage and the strange way I met my mate. Some details I keep back – he doesn’t need to know all about my powers, or the fact that my mother is a deity – but the rest? The rest I share.
It doesn’t pass my attention that he moves on readily whenever I begin to speak about Sinclair, but honestly? I don’t ask a whole lot about his wife. And I wonder at myself there, trying to figure out what part of me is holding back. Because I am interested in her fascinated, really, dying to know – but for some reason?
Somehow, I just don’t ask.
We go for hours, learning a great deal more about each other. Food comes, and we eat it, and I’m sure that it’s good but honestly I don’t know if I taste it because I’m lost in this conversation, which contains a great deal of laughter and joy.
When a clock in the corner chimes midnight, though, my jaw drops open. ” Has it really been that long?” I say, marveling and shaking my head at my companion – my friend now, undeniably.
Calvin grimaces a little. “We have a saying,” he says with a shrug, “that mice wait for good friends lose themselves in each other, and that’s when they eat all the grain.”
“Really?” I say, wrinkling my nose, charmed a bit.
“Yes,” he says, leaning back and laughing. “So, when you have a mouse problem in your home, people dismiss it as a sign of a house full of friendship and laughter.”
“Oh,” I say, smiling now and nodding. “Like how we say it’s good luck, if a bird poops on you.”
He blinks at me, shocked. “Wha-what!?”
I burst into laughter yet again, leaning back in my chair and letting the joy sweep through me because of course, if you didn’t grow up hearing that, it really is just gross, isn’t it?
“Just something we say,” I say, wiping at my eyes a little, my body still shaking with mirth. “I think to make people feel better when that happens to them.”
He laughs too, grinning at me and understanding.
I sigh then, and look back at Conner, who is still sitting on the little couch flicking through his phone. “I guess I should -”
“Stay,” Calvin says suddenly, his voice serious now in a way it wasn’t a moment ago, and I feel his hand suddenly on top of mine on that table.
Whatever it is between us that thing that happens when we touch – it sweeps through me, making the hair on my neck stand on end.
Calvin stares up at me, his eyes pleading, and I know that he feels it too. “Please, Ella,” he says quietly, glancing towards the terrace next to us. “One more drink – just to round out the night.”
I bite my lip, knowing that I shouldn’t but…
“All right,” I say quietly, nodding to him, and not moving my hand away from his.
