His mouth twists. Something cold creeps into his eyes.
‘We’d better go or we’ll be late.’
Feeling the change she steps away from him. She does not understand. Hot and cold. Perhaps it is a game. But he will not beat her. She can survive three months. She thinks of her mother and says. ‘Yes, we don’t want to be late.’Fuck. He wants to kiss that mouth. He doesn’t want to go out. He wants to drag her by the hair to the bed and fuck her until she is so sore she is screaming for him to stop. The sick pull she has on him irritates and angers him.
It is unnatural. He straightens and offers her the crook of his arm. His voice comes out hostile and clipped. ‘Shall we?’She bites her lip. Now he is angry with her. Nothing makes sense. Why is he angry with her? Confused, she threads her arm through his and they leave the apartment.
He drives out of London to Bray. The Fat Duck is nestled in the middle of the English countryside. The women are wearing expensive clothes and the men are all in suits. She has never been anywhere so glamorous, but it is bitter sweet. She has lied to her mother. She is with this man as his whore. And all of this will come to an end in three months’ time. A young man with a French accent settles them into a waiting area and offers them delicate little bites of food and two glasses of champagne. The champagne is compliments of the house. Apparently Blake is well known at this establishment.
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‘They are called amuse-bouches, mouth amusements,’
Blake explains and watches as she nibbles on the tiny offerings. Mushroom and hazelnuts with basil oil and salmon mousse. ‘Well?’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever had anything so delicious in all my life.’
The sommelier comes to help select the wine that will perfectly complement the food they intend to have, but Blake knows exactly what he wants.
‘The 1996 Clos du Mesnil.’
The sommelier seems pleased with Blake’s choice. The wine is brought and presented to Blake. When he nods, it is uncorked and a small amount is poured into a deep glass and given to Blake. He swirls it, sniffs it delicately, and pronounces it acceptable. A fifth of Lana’s glass is filled.
She raises it to her lips and tastes it. What passed for wine until now seems abrasive mixtures of grape juice and vinegar. With complicated scents that tease her nose and a distinctively smooth taste that slides down her throat the wine is truly spectacular.
Lana studies the menu with fascination. It is no wonder that this restaurant is so famous. It has a uniquely original menu. There is something called the mad hatter’s tea party with mock turtle soup, a pocket watch and toasted sandwich. Then there are snail porridge, crab biscuits and quail jelly, chicken served with vanilla mayonnaise, shaved fennel and red cabbage gazpacho with mustard ice cream, and something else she can’t recognize served with oak moss and truffle oil.
Blake chooses roasted foie gras to start. Lana sighs inwardly. She is not eating force-fed goose liver.
The waiter looks at her. ‘I won’t bother with a starter, thank you.’
He orders the lamb with cucumber.
‘I’ll have the same,’ she murmurs.
The waiter moves away, and he looks at her strangely.
His eyes are pitying. ‘You can’t read, can you?’
Her head tilts back. ‘Of course I can. I am a qualified secretary.’
‘What was I supposed to think? Jay told me you signed the contract without reading it and this is the second time you have ordered the same as me and you hardly touched your food the last time. Why?’
She decides to be honest. ‘I don’t know which utensil to use to eat what.’
He is so surprised, he leans back in his seat and regards her quietly. Not taking his eyes off her, he raises a hand slightly. Immediately, a waiter comes to his side. ‘The lady would like to see the menu again, please. And hold the earlier order.’
‘Of course, sir.’
He returns with the menu. ‘Would you like a moment with it?’
‘No,’ she says. ‘I know what I want. I’d like the mock turtle soup to start and the poached salmon.’
When he is gone, Blake says, ‘With utensils always start with the ones that are furthest out from the plate and work your way in. I will help you.’
‘Thank you.’
‘So what have you done today?’
Well, I got taken off the books for er…inappropriate behavior so I went off in search of another temporary agency.’
He frowns. ‘I don’t want you to work for the duration of our contract.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I want you to be available to me day and night.