Page 39 of The King Contract
Noah shakes his head.
“Wow.” I lower my cutlery to the table and dab my napkin to my mouth, my appetite vanishing.
I didn’t recognise Noah immediately when we reunited on the beach, but I’ve since remembered a lot. He’s confirmed what I already suspected, that even after spending time together, he doesn’t recall me being in his life before now. “Would you excuse me for a minute?”
I grab my purse with a shaky hand and stand before he can respond, heading toward the bathroom. My cheeks are still warm, but there’s no way that’s because of the wine.
14
NOAH
Say that again
I ama cock-up on most days, but I really thought I was doing better with Millie. I’m more myself and I’m relaxed. So much so, I go and stick my goddamned foot in it. Dan’s right, I do need a full-time buffer.
She was an outstanding talent with a camera at school. Some of the photos she took circulated online over the years, taken from the yearbook when people wanted to know what I was like as a kid.
It’s taken me an embarrassingly long time to put the pieces together. I’ve been so self-absorbed my entire life I can’t remember someone who was there for nearly every one of my senior year achievements. How many other people have I ignored, forgotten or discounted because I was too focused on myself?
I stab at my food again, chewing on another piece of steak with much more vigour than a minute ago, when a tall blonde woman approaches me in a sleek black dress. “Excuse me, are you Noah King?”
I nod, mouth still full of food.
She giggles and flips her hair. “I knew it. I told my boyfriend it was you, but he didn’t believe me.”
I clear my throat and smile, still chewing. She hovers by the table, arching her back as she waits for me to swallow my food. Her fake breasts are way too big for her frame and the way her gaze lingers on my face confirms she’s into me, despite her boyfriend. She’s the type of woman I’d ordinarily flirt back with, despite her boyfriend, but for some reason, I don’t get the same urge to jump into my usual tricks.
“You’re amazing on a surfboard,” she purrs.
“Thank you,” I say, managing to chew through the last of my food.
“Could we get a photo?” she asks, fishing her phone out of her bag. She goes to snap a selfie of us and a noise of protest escapes my throat.
I hold up my hand. “Whoa, hold up a sec.” She lowers her phone as a flush creeps across her cheekbones. “I really appreciate you coming up to say hi,” I say, wiping my mouth with a napkin. “I’d love to have my meal without any photos, but I’d be happy to take a photo with you afterwards.”
I’m not sure the woman hears anything I’ve said, because she’s backing up, her cheeks now flaming. “Whatever. It’s all good.”
As she scurries away, I remind myself I was polite in setting a boundary with her. If I say yes to one person with food in my mouth, before I know it there’s a queue of people. Maybe that’s presumptuous of me, but Mack always told me to be kind, but direct. You can’t say yes to everyone.
Millie returns a few minutes later, sitting down at the table and collecting her glass of wine. Her mouth droops at the corners, and she doesn’t eat.
I nod to her plate. “You didn’t like the food?”
“I loved it, thank you. I’m full.”
My gaze shifts to her hands, where she’s pressing her nails into her palms. I am killing it with women today.
“I’m full too.” I drop my napkin on the table. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”
I settle the bill and walk beside Millie out of the restaurant, ignoring the swivel of heads as we leave. As we head outside into the warm air, I’m desperately racking my brain about how to make it up to her, when three men hanging near the entrance catch my attention.
“Oi, King Fuckwit.”
“Creative,” I reply, stepping ahead of Millie. I curve my arm and steer her slightly behind me. “Excuse me gents, we’re heading home.”
By the look of their fancy suits, they’re patrons from the bar who have come outside for a smoke break or to confront me. Or both.
“I knew you were a wanker, but to find out for sure is such a letdown,” one of the men says, blowing out smoke from a vape. “It’s one lousy photo, bro.”
