Being a Chef, you learned a thing or two.
1. You work well with your hands.
2. You're not afraid to get down & dirty.
3. You're all about pleasing.
4. You can satisfy every taste bud.
5. You can go on for hours without breaks.
6. You know how to han...
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"Would you like something to drink, ma'am?" The flight attendant asks me, and I tell her no. I just want to be left alone to my own thoughts. I didn't have time to get anything in order for the restaurant this weekend. My phone is back on my desk, and I don't even have a way to call Tiffany to tell her what is happening. Tristan has been quiet since we arrived at the tarmac and still hasn't said a word once we took off.
He is sitting on the opposite side of the jet, working on his laptop.
Checking off the Mile High Club on my bucket list doesn't look like it will happen. He is still pissed, but come on.
I lean my chair back just enough and wrap the blanket around me. I know when to give people their space, and that's what he needs, but damn I wish he didn't.
The flight to Vegas was dreadful, and I'm happy to be on the ground. Still, Tristan says nothing, and it's slowly starting to piss me off—correction, he told me to wake up because the jet is about to land. For him to put on a show back at the restaurant and then act like this fucking mind-blowing. Just stay calm, Helena.
The SUV stops in front of the Palms Hotel. He gets out first, holding out his hand. I take it easing out of the car. He still doesn't say a word to me as we approach the front desk, him checking us in. I don't want to know how much he is paying a night to stay in the Empathy Suite, but it is probably $100k+. We're ushered to a different elevator than the others, and I guess I am right about the price. There is no way it's less than that.
"Are you going to talk to me now?" I finally dare to ask him.
"So now you're speaking to me? Why happened to your silent treatment?" his eyebrow quirks.
"Me? Silent treatment? You're the one who decided not to speak to me. I'm sorry about what happened with Henry, but that doesn't mean you stopped talking to me."
"You stop speaking to me in the car. All you say is let's go and look out the window the entire time. Also, you sat away from me on the jet." He steps closer, trapping me between his chest and the elevator wall. "So don't flip this me on, love."
"You...I..."
He raises his index finger to my lips, silencing me. "I'm going to rectify the situation once we get inside. Neither of us will be silent for the next three or more hours." He removes his finger, pecking my lips. As the elevator doors open, I stare at him like a deer caught in headlights. Taking my hand in his, he ushers us out of the elevator. I don't even have time to admire the beautiful suite because Tristan is stripping us as soon as we enter the suite.
There is no use in protesting, because the way this man is looking at me. He means business. We're both naked when he scoops me up, walking us into the kitchen. He places me atop the counter, and I spread my legs without being told. Tristan slowly winks at me and walks off, grabbing something out of the cabinet.
"I sent a few requests before we landed." He shakes the chocolate syrup in his. "Now lean back and spread your legs further so I can eat my dessert." Fuck, this man is going to be the death of me.
****
When I finally open my eyes, I see Tristan walking out of the bathroom, already dressed in a suit. The same suit that was delivered an hour ago. The same suit he will be heading into The Little Vegas Chapel with on. I glance at the chair in the corner where my white gown is draped over. Damn, my mother is going to kill me. My eyes move back to Tristan as he fixes his diamond-studded cuff links.
"Having cold feet or something?" He asks.
"Or something."
He stops fixing his cuff links and stares at me. This is what I want, but yet this feels so wrong. My first and only marriage is about to start on the wrong foot. How can everything seem so right yet so wrong? I sit up in bed, looking away from Tristan, back at the white gown.
"Do you want to marry me?"
My eyes flicker back to his. Of course, I want to marry him.
"Yes."
"Then why the or something?" He asks, and I shrug my shoulders.
"I guess I'm a bit more traditional and want to do things the right way."
He shakes his head and stares at me in disbelief. I know, I know.
"I laid all my cards out on the table. I dont know what else to do here. You love me, and I love you, yet you're second-guessing this--us. I'm not going to sit here and figure out what's happening inside your pretty little head. I will be waiting at the Chapel; it closes at 10 pm. If you dont show up, I'll under--no, I won't understand, but I will let you go once and for all. I dont have time to play games. I'll have a car awaiting you downstairs." he walks over to the bed, kissing me on the forehead. "I do hope to see you walking down the aisle."
I sit there in silence, staring at the gown and then back to the clock on the nightstand. Tristan left almost three hours ago, and I have two hours left before ten. Would he really still be waiting for me?
