Dangerous:Made & Broken (A British Bad Boy Romance)(14)

I spent the time the lasagna was in the oven on setting the new dining  table as prettily as I could. I was pretty sure Blaine's offer of eating  together came from seeing my efforts to decorate the house and be a  good little homemaker, so I wanted to nurture that part as much as  possible. Thankfully, I'd bought some really pretty plates from an  antique store with an online shop to go with the tea set, so the table  had a nice splash of color even though I'd not thought to get any  flowers. I briefly considered popping into the garden to cut a few of  the last autumn blooms I'd seen through the window, but decided against  it since it was already too dark to see much.

Instead, I placed some of the candles I'd bought around the window  ledges and on the table. Once they were lit and the food was on the  table, I stepped back to admire my handiwork.

The lasagna smelled gorgeous, and the candles sent a warm glow through  the room, emphasizing the colorful plates and intimate atmosphere I was  hoping to bring out. Yup, this looked exactly like something a dedicated  wife would set out for her hardworking husband. Part one of my plan was  complete.

I went to the stairs to call for Blaine, and then went back into the  dining room and took a seat. I felt oddly nervous as I waited for  him-but of course, my entire future did depend on this going right. I  wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans just as Blaine came in, and offered  him a smile I hoped didn't reflect my nerves.

He looked around the room slowly, from the candlelight reflecting off the dark windows to the set table, and finally to me.

"I got a few things," I said, worried he'd mind all the money I'd spent on decor. "To make it more homey."

"Yeah, I saw the credit card statement." He sat down on the opposite side of the table. "Food looks good."

Of course he had checked what I bought. I bit my lip, suddenly  regretting my week-long shopping spree. "I'm sorry if it was too much."

"It's fine." Blaine grabbed the serving knife and cut a large slice out  of the lasagna. He followed up with a generous helping from the salad  bowl and then handed me the plate. "To be honest, I'm surprise there're  not any expensive handbags or shoes on that statement."

I took the plate he was handing me, too surprised with his statement to  wonder why he was plating my food for me. "Uh, I'm not expecting you to  pick up the bill for my clothes shopping."

Blaine sighed, pausing with his hand on the serving knife in the middle  of cutting out his own slice of lasagna. "Can we please not have another  fight about how you want to be independent? I'm your husband, and you  can't work-I'll be paying for your clothes, along with the household  supplies and anything else you'll need."

"Oh." A part of me did want to argue, to lament on how this whole  arrangement was fucked up and how I wanted to be able to support myself.  But that would have defeated the purpose of the night, so instead I  just sent him a sweet smile. "Gotcha. I'll be sure to add a few pairs of  Louboutins to next week's shop. To make you happy, of course."

Blaine snorted as he returned to filling his plate. "Cheers, love. Appreciate it."

His dry tone made an unexpected snicker burst out before I could stop  myself, but when I glanced at Blaine's face, a mildly teasing smile  touched his soft mouth.

"So you do laugh. I was beginning to wonder."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Yes, I've been dragging your good mood  right down with my sulking, haven't I? And you, who are nothing but easy  smiles and giggles."

The corner of his mouth quirked up higher. "Sassy ‘til the end. If you're not careful, I'll start to enjoy your lip."

"Hmm," I hummed, returning my focus to the food when I could feel my  face heating up again. Getting any sort of proper conversation started  was going to be really difficult, if I couldn't even keep eye contact  without lighting up like a fluorescent tomato. Not for the first time, I  silently cursed at my inability to control my ovaries' inexplicable  freak-outs around Blaine Steel.         

     



 

But if I wanted to get him to trust me, then I needed to talk to him.

After about five minutes of the only sound in the room being the  scraping of cutlery against plates, I looked back up at my dinner  companion. He didn't stop eating, but I could tell from the way his  eyebrows shot up that he was aware I was looking at him.

"So …  are any of your brothers married?" It was the first thing that  popped into my head, partly because the only time he'd been even  remotely open with me before was when he'd mentioned his family in our  session.

"Didn't take you for the smalltalk type, Mira." He didn't look up from  the meal as he spoke, but his voice didn't carry any note of warning, so  I figured it was a green light to proceed.

"You said yourself we should try to get along, and it's a lot easier if  we know a bit about each other, don't you think?" My own tone was light  and calm. Why was it so much easier to act like an adult rather than a  hormone-addled teenager as soon as he wasn't looking at me? "Besides, it  doesn't have to be small talk. I may not know much about you, but I do  know your family is important to you."

He finally looked up then, a sharp gleam of something dark in his storm  gray eyes, but it was gone before I could fully process it.

"You know how it is. Family is everything in this business. And no, none  of my brothers are married. I was the first to be sacrificed on the  marital alter. What about you? Any of your brothers married?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "It's not like I've kept in touch. If you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about them."

He nodded, picking at his salad with his fork. "Sure. Guess you're pretty pissed at them for making you get hitched, huh?"

I shrugged, opting to deflect rather than respond. "So I take it you're  the oldest, since you're the one who got chosen to get married off for  the business' sake? You said you had five brothers, right?"

Blaine grunted. "I'm the third oldest. You would have seen Marcus and  the twins at the wedding-they're all younger than me. Jeremy and Isaac  were …  indisposed, so I was up."

"Oh." Something he'd said in our session together niggled at the  forefront of my mind, and I frowned. "You said one of your brothers went  to prison. I assume that was either Jeremy or Isaac, then?"

He finally looked up from his plate then, but the anger that flashed in his steely gaze made me wish he hadn't.

And then it dawned on me-I'd referenced something from probably the only  time in recent history that Blaine Steel had allowed himself to be  vulnerable. I had witnessed a rare slip in his carefree, all-powerful  façade, and it didn't take a psychology degree to know that he'd  regretted it the moment it happened, the way he acted toward me after.  And now I'd been stupid enough to remind him.

Perhaps an appropriate response would have been to pretend like I didn't  notice the way his knuckles whitened around his grip on the fork, or  the murderous glare he was leveling at me. Or maybe even outright fear  and a stuttered apology would have been a good option.

In hindsight, pretty much anything other than what I did would have been a good choice.

"Oh, give me a break! What, so I have to pretend like I don't know one  of your brothers is in jail? Is your ego really that fragile, Blaine?" I  tossed my fork and knife down on the table, overwhelmed with  frustration. "So you've got issues with your family-big deal! It's not  like I'm going to tell anyone the big, scary crime lord went to see a  therapist, so you can knock that glaring right off."

"You should learn respect." Blaine's voice was a low growl, the threat  in his words emphasized perfectly by the deep rumble. "And I don't ever  want to hear you talk about that again, are we clear?"

"Are we clear? Yeah, I guess we are. It's perfectly clear to me that you  have zero respect for anyone but yourself, you sexist prick! I should  learn respect? How about you earn it, for once in your life?" I didn't  know when I'd gotten out of my seat, but when Blaine pushed back his  chair with a loud screeching to stand up on the other side of the table,  I realized I was already standing up myself, leaning over the table to  shout at him.

"Watch it." Blaine's otherwise light gray eyes were nearly black with  rage as he put both hands on the table and leaned in so he could glower  down at me from his much higher vantage point. "I've been more than  accommodating with you up until now. Push me one more time, I fucking  dare you."         

     



 

I have no idea what idiotic demon possessed me then, but the next thing I  knew, I'd grabbed my half-empty wine glass. My arm was midway through  the slinging motion before my sanity snapped at least somewhat back, and  I looked on as if watching a movie on half speed as the red wine I'd  been sipping throughout the meal sailed through the air and connected  with Blaine's face.