Buttons and Lace (Buttons 1)

I watched every move she made.

Lars brought the main entrees and set each plate in front of us. A pitcher of water and two glasses were placed next to the basket of bread. Sensing the tension in the room, he walked out without saying a word. He probably heard us fucking last night. His room was on the bottom floor.

I broke the silence. “How was your day?”

Her eyes were glued to her plate. “Good. Yours?”

I knew why she wouldn’t look at me. She was ashamed of everything she felt last night. She was ashamed she gave herself to me—and liked it. She lost the battle and surrendered, and that didn’t leave a good taste in her mouth. “Fine. Had a lot of work to do.”

She never asked me questions about my job. She either assumed I wouldn’t answer or didn’t care what I did outside the house.

“What are you reading?”

“A translator and some book in Italian.”

I held my fork in my hand but didn’t press it into my food. “You’re teaching yourself Italian?”

She nodded. “I’m trying to, at least.”

Even though she’d be leaving in a year?

“It’s a beautiful language.” She answered my question even though I never asked. “I like listening to it.”

“I can teach you.”

“You seem pretty busy...”

“When we talk, I can speak Italian.”

“But I wouldn’t know what you’re saying...”

“You’ll figure it out.” I finally took a bite of my food. Lars used to be a chef in Vienna once upon a time and knew his way around the kitchen as well as the rest of the house. He was an irreplaceable member of the staff. If he ever wanted to leave, I’d have a hard time letting him go.

She took a few bites before her eyes drifted to mine. They were pristine blue, clearer than the shores of a paradise island. “Is Crow your real name?”

Interesting question. “Yes.”

“It’s unusual...”

I thought it fit my dark exterior, my rage, and my callousness perfectly. “Pearl is unusual as well.”

She was about to grab her wineglass when she halted. “You know my name?”

I didn’t break stride. “I know everything about you.”

“But you’ve never mentioned it before.”

“If you wanted me to address you by your name, you would have mentioned it a long time ago. Besides, I prefer Button.” I didn’t want to call her by a name everyone else used. She was my possession. She was mine in every sense of the word. So she needed a new name, something only I called her.

She couldn’t hide the shock on her face. She stupidly assumed her secrets were safe.

“Mechanical engineer. That’s very impressive.”

This time, she didn’t seem surprised. She kept her face stoic, hiding her thoughts. “I like it. Every project is new and challenging.”

“Very few women choose a career involving science and math.”

“Supposedly.”

“What made you choose that profession?”

She shrugged. “I like building things. I like working from the ground up. I like making something that will outlive me. No two projects are ever the same. It’s something new every day.”

My hand stopped moving my fork, and my eyes concentrated on her face. I felt my attraction to her grow, my respect elevate. She was so different from every other woman I met that I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. When they were in my presence, they folded like a bad hand at poker. They immediately obeyed me, intimidated or smitten by me. This woman was different. She worked by her own inner clock. She didn’t let anyone control her or manipulate her.

Which was why I wanted to control her and manipulate her. She was the wildest stallion, the last free horse of the land. It couldn’t be broken or trained. It was too stubborn, too fierce.

I loved the challenge.

“Perhaps I have something for you to work on—if you’re interested.”

“Depends on what you have in mind.”

“At the winery, we’re always looking for ways to make our fermentation process more efficient.”

“That’s how you make a living?” She’d never asked me anything personal before. She didn’t seem to care. I was just her captor, the person she wanted to flee from.

“Yes.” In part.

“Is that what you do with Cane?”

“No. The winery is exclusively mine.”

She was an intelligent woman, and the cogs in her mind were constantly churning. Thoughts were circling her mind now, and she deliberated on asking her following question. Finally, she went for it. “What do you do with Cane?”

“Arms dealer. We make weapons and sell them to the highest bidder.”

Her eyes narrowed, her mind working at full speed. “Bones does the same thing.”

“Yeah.” He was my biggest competitor, my biggest adversary. Our rivalry went back to a different generation, when my father and his father were at war with one another. We inherited that fight, and we would continue until one of us was dead.

“That’s your beef with him.” She said it out loud, but she seemed to be saying it more to herself than to me.