Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

He murmurs to himself, “She’s funny, too. How
inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient for who?”
He simply gazes at me without answering.
What is it with this guy?
The maître d’ returns holding the bottle of champagne I
ordered, along with two flutes.
Thank god. I was just about to start gnawing on my arm. I
can’t remember the last time I was this uncomfortable.
Oh, wait. Sure I can. It was last night, when Prince
Charmless so elegantly rejected my request for a ride home.
Or was it this morning, when he saw me in my wedding dress
and looked as if he was about to throw up?
I’m sure if I give it five more minutes, I’ll have another
example to choose from.
Kage and I are silent as the maître d’ uncorks the bottle
and pours. He informs us our waiter will be over soon, then
disappears as I’m shooting my champagne like I’m in a
competition for an all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii.
When I set my empty glass down, Kage says, “You always
drink so much?”
Ah, yes. He saw me boozing it up last night, too. Right
before I wobbled over to his table. No wonder he looks at me
with such…whatever it is.
“No, actually,” I say, trying to look ladylike as I blot my
lips on my napkin. “Only on two days a year.”
He cocks a brow, waiting for an explanation. In an ashtray
next to his left elbow, his cigar sends up lazy whorls of smoke
into the air.
Are you even allowed to smoke in here?
As if that would stop him.
I glance away from the dark pull of his eyes. “It’s a long
story.”