Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 234281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1171(@200wpm)___ 937(@250wpm)___ 781(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1171(@200wpm)___ 937(@250wpm)___ 781(@300wpm)
He was a deacon, for heaven's sake. Did they really think her that desperate, to make her moves on a man of the cloth?
Having also noticed the dirty looks coming from the female patrons at the table next to them, Magnolia's sibling could only grimace in apology, saying, "I am sorry for this, child."
Since Ryder was only a couple years older, the gravely spoken words were exactly what Diana needed to hear. She burst into laughter, tension easing from her form as his levity helped her see the humor in things.
"Maybe I should play it up," Diana joked under her breath, "just to make things worth their while."
"By all means." Ryder was genuinely supportive. While even he recognized how melancholy made her looks rather unearthly in its beauty, he would rather see her a little uglier and happier.
Which, of course, led the concerned deacon to the question of...
"What's wrong?"
Diana bit back a smile at Ryder's frankness. "You're supposed to start the conversation with something about the weather. You're British, remember?"
"I also have a red-eye flight to catch," he reminded her. "So if we could just pretend we've done our customary thirty-minute bush-beating..." He raised a brow. "Well?"
Diana tried not to squirm under the deacon's piercing stare. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing," he retorted, "if Magnolia insisted that I force you to submit to Confession."
"She what?" Diana didn't know whether to feel aghast, amused, or offended.
"Aren't you glad I took you out for dinner instead?"
"To wine and dine the truth out of me?"
"Figuratively speaking," Ryder admitted without a qualm, "since neither of us drinks."
Still nothing from the other side, but he wasn't surprised. Even without Diana volunteering much information about herself, moving in the same circles meant Ryder was privy to more information than what was written about her in the tabloids.
Most of the paps described her as the mousy and bullied daughter of Esther Leventis, but Ryder had seen for himself she was a lot more than that. Her heart was chaste, in the way fewer and fewer people were able to keep theirs past puberty, and if there were anything he might do to keep it that way...
"Magnolia's seriously worried about you," Ryder said quietly.
Diana suddenly straightened, her face paling as she said jerkily, "It's him."
"I see." Guy trouble wasn't good, but it could've been a lot worse.
Diana shook her head. "No, I mean it's him. He's here." She nodded in the direction of the restaurant's main doors, and when Ryder followed her gaze, he immediately noticed the just-arrived couple being assisted by the maître d'.
The woman was a bombshell, Diana thought numbly, but more like a sophisticated version of Marilyn Monroe...or Paris Hilton with breast implants. Either way, she looked extremely good next to the professor, who looked his usual strikingly handsome self.
She glanced at Ryder, noticed his frowning expression, and asked self-consciously, "What is it?"
"It's easy to see why you're attracted to him," Ryder murmured. The man seemed to have stepped out of a Michelangelo painting, and it was no secret that the Renaissance maestro was one of Diana's favorite painters. "Is he in one of your classes? Was that how you met?"
"I suppose you could say that," Diana said in a small voice.
"He dropped out?"
"He's my professor."
Ryder choked.
Diana's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Not something you'd expect from a good girl like me, right?"
Him
Kathang Isip by Ben & Ben
THE PROFESSOR WAS IN familiar territory.
Diana. Trouble. Curse in seven languages.
The situation almost felt like home, but because he also knew things could get a lot worse, he almost wished he had taken the time to learn an eighth language. The way things so often blew up in his face, he had a feeling he would soon run out of cuss words to use.
If only he had seen her before entering the restaurant's main dining hall, he could still have salvaged things, could've still saved her from more pain. But he goddamn hadn't. And now it was too late.
He forced himself to place a hand at the small of Laverne's back, which her dress had left completely exposed. There was nothing less he felt like doing, but he also knew what was expected of him. To act out of character would only raise questions, and Laverne had been with him far too long not to figure things out eventually.
As they followed the maître d' inside, he deliberately sought Laverne's attention, his every word and gesture designed to have her whole world around him.
But it was no use.
"We've reserved your usual table, monsieur."
His usual table, which meant he would have to walk past her table.
Fuck no.
But to refuse would only make Laverne realize something was amiss and lead to a scene he absolutely needed to avoid, so he managed to give the other man a brief, tight smile of acknowledgment. "Thank you, Pierre."