Page 57 of Angels Are Falling

“I’ll have the sparkling lemonade,” I told her sheepishly, feeling silly for taking ten minutes to order a basic drink. Not even a glass of wine.

“Arnold Palmer for me,” Kai said smoothly.

“Any appetizers to go with your drinks?”

Kai stared at me, and I was at a total loss. I wasn’t good at split-second decisions. The menu was overwhelming, and everything looked too good to pass up.

“Why don’t I place an order for the things I like here?” Kai suggested, watching me struggle.

Relieved, I quickly closed my menu. “Go for it.”

Kai ordered a few appetizers and a large pizza for us to share. I was only slightly surprised when he asked to make sure there was no cilantro. Of course, he knew my hatred for the herb. He thoroughly vetted us down to the last detail, and not a single moment has been my own since. I was swept by anger at the extreme invasion of privacy.

“So, what do you want?” I bit out, hating how he got under my skin so easily.

“Excuse me?”

“You twisted my arm into having lunch with you.” I tapped my fingers on the table. “Paid thousands of dollars for it. I assume you want something.” If he just wanted to fuck, he wouldn’t have bothered taking me out to lunch. I was contractually obligated to sleep with him.

“I didn’t know having lunch with your wife was a crime.”

“No. But it is absurd to blackmail her into it.” He was taking the scenic route with his answers. “This is ridiculous, Kai. Out with it. Do you have questions about the children’s ward or not?”

“I don’t know yet,” he said idly.

“Then stop wasting my time.”

“You’re getting paid for your time. And—” He glanced at his watch, which probably cost an absurd amount of money. “I have you for another eight and a half hours.”

“What could you possibly want to talk about for eight hours?”

“Eight and a half,” he corrected.

I closed my eyes. God, give me strength. “What do you want to discuss for eight and a half hours?”

“I need to do my due diligence before writing a check. Make sure your hospital aligns with my values.”

“Your values?” I scoffed. “You propositioned another man’s wife. What morals could you possibly be concerned about?”

Kai didn’t react, though I knew he was ticked off. I had become attuned to his moods ever since the honeymoon. I felt a shiver move through me when he leaned forward. The distance across the small table collapsed in a way that did something unwelcome to my pulse. It was such a traitorously involuntary reaction that I pressed my shoulders flat against my chair. The extra inch between us made no difference at all. He was close enough that I could see the faint line of his jaw, the particular way his eyes went still when he was serious. Once more, I felt incredibly hot.

“If you knew me, you’d know exactly which values I had given up to make this work.” All previous hints of playfulness vanished as bitterness took hold of his voice.

“But I don’t know you,” I whispered, my rebuttal slightly subdued.

“And whose fault is that?”

Mine? But Kai was a closed book. He reminded me of a high-power fuckboy business tycoon who never showed an ounce of vulnerability. Men like him wanted traditional wives at home while they messed around on the side. Kai saw me and wanted to do as he pleased. The fact that I was married was irrelevant. There was no point in engaging people like him in conversation because they never revealed anything substantial.

“As if you’d reveal anything real about yourself,” I muttered under my breath.

“How would you know? You’ve never asked me anything,” he pointed out.

The waitress arrived with the sparkling lemonade and Arnold Palmer. The tension at the table was so thick that even she felt it. She gave us a tight smile and quickly left to fetch our appetizers.

Kai and I picked at the food silently. It was difficult to enjoy the mouthwatering dishes. His earlier rebuke festered in my mind like an annoying splinter. I racked my memory and couldn’t recall any instances when I’d asked about his life since the twins’ birthday dinner, not even as a half-hearted attempt at small talk. I’d assumed he wouldn’t tell me and left it at that.

Experimentally, as though testing a theory in a lab, I blurted, “Tell me about your childhood?” I chewed on a cheese-stuffed mushroom and didn’t make eye contact.