Her delicately growling stomach prompted her to suppress the question darting around her mind and pick up her cutlery. They ate in silence for a brief spell. Until he speared a fat shrimp with his fork and offered it to her. ‘Here, try this.’
The intimacy of the action forced her to shake her head immediately. ‘No, thanks. I don’t—’
‘You’re in one of the most spectacular cities of the world. Your lover is offering you a morsel from his plate. Are you really going to refuse me? Especially when you’ve been eyeing my plate since our food arrived. Denying yourself for the sake of your principles is only admirable up to a point. Then it becomes tedious. Not to mention I’m in fear of the double blow to my ego of having my gesture refused in front of our audience.’
She glanced from his face to the delectable morsel poised an inch from her mouth, then to the diners surrounding them, who seemed absolutely absorbed in what was happening at their table.
The smoky aroma of the grilled shrimp coupled with a hint of lemon hit her nostrils, mercilessly teasing her taste buds. Before she could think of another reason to refuse, she parted her lips and accepted the offering. And barely managed to stop herself from moaning at the exquisite flavours that suffused her senses.
‘Not so bad, was it?’ Xandro asked.
She chewed. Swallowed. Then picked up her glass of wine and sipped. ‘No. It was delicious.’
A slight hitch of his brow said her easy agreement had surprised him.
She licked the lingering trace of wine and grilled shrimp from her bottom lip, and saw his eyes darken as he followed the action. An increasingly familiar little charge of electricity descended on the table again as she finished her meal.
When the waiter came to clear their plates, Xandro again made a recommendation for their main course. This time she nodded her agreement. When she refused a refill of her wine, he set the bottle back in the bucket.
They didn’t exchange conversation and, for the first time since Xandro had walked into her life, the atmosphere between them didn’t crackle with animosity and suspicion. In fact, she’d managed to take the first full breath in his presence when he once again directed those incisive eyes on her.
‘Why are you estranged from your parents?’
The easiness evaporated. Her stomach tightened, armouring itself against the pain the question brought. Besides Ben, Xandro was the only one who had an inkling of what had driven her from home three years ago. She didn’t want to discuss it with the formidable man seated next to her. But he’d answered her questions, despite his clear reluctance. And, as absurd as it sounded—or perhaps it was the wine talking—that brief insight into his past had lifted a veil of mystery from him, making him seem, if not accessible, less daunting.
When the refusal that rose on her lips withered and died, Sage told herself he already knew almost everything about her parents. Elaborating on why wouldn’t give him any more ammunition against her. Not everything though. The parts that hurt the most she intended to keep to herself.
‘Havenwoods has been in my father’s family for generations, and it’s been run by my ancestors since it was built. My parents planned Ben’s and my life around managing it when we were still kids. When I turned thirteen I told them I had no intention of following the family tradition. At first they didn’t believe I was serious. When they realised that my dancing wasn’t just an extra-curricular way to pass the time they weren’t happy but they still thought it was a phase I would grow out of.’ Her shrug felt painful, but she’d started the story so she pushed on. ‘Things came to a head a few years ago. I told them I was moving to DC to try out for the Hunter Dance Company programme. They told me if I left I would be disinherited and never welcomed back.’
His eyes narrowed a little but his attention didn’t waver from her face. ‘They tried to use your family legacy to control you?’
‘You mean—did they blackmail me like you’re doing?’ she bit out, a little of her pain spilling over onto him.
His head went back as if her words had physically struck him. His gaze swept down and fixed on his wineglass, but he didn’t respond.
She took a moment to breathe through the anguish twisting like a live wire inside her. To get her runaway emotions under control. ‘My father flew out to see me a few months later to tell me that he and my mother were willing to take me back if I’d come to my senses. That was three years ago.’
He raised his gaze, and his expression was neutral. ‘You haven’t spoken to them since?’
She couldn’t quite pull off another shrug. ‘I’m still a dancer. I have no intention of changing that to a pencil skirt and silk blouse, an
d riding a desk any time soon.’
A hint of a smile played around his lips. ‘Unless your role calls for it, when I’m sure you’ll rise to the occasion.’
The words weren’t charged in any way, except maybe in her overactive imagination. But the silence that followed changed from a somewhat stilted sharing of information into something else. Something that made his eyes gleam and her heart rate pick up an uncomfortable speed once more. The sizzle in her belly sparked to life and Sage couldn’t quite catch her breath as his gaze continued to hold hers.
‘Have they ever seen you dance?’ he asked after a minute had passed.
‘One amateur production years ago. They asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I asked them to come and see me. They turned up for the last half hour of the show.’
He drained the last of his wine, a look of distaste filling his eyes. ‘They’ve deliberately blinded themselves to your talent. It’s their loss.’
‘I wish it wasn’t,’ she said before she could stop herself.
‘The only way to make your reality different is to change it. Wishing is a waste of time.’ The words were spoken with harsh, unshakable determination that spoke of personal experience.
‘Is that what you did? Changed your reality?’ She pounced on the statement, eager to sidestep the more painful subject of her estrangement with her parents.