Adriana’s POV

“A seafood boil. ""Yes, honey, would you like anything else?” Mr Williams asked as I drew invisible circles on the table cloth. The waiter also glanced over at me, but I quickly shook my head.

“No, that's alright for me,” I managed to say.

“You can tell me if you want more dear,” Mr Williams stretched his hand over the table.

“I'd prefer to know now rather than later.”

I gulped.

“No, the seafood boil is nice…”

Mr Williams snapped his fingers and the waiter was off gliding past the array of empty tables, which was courtesy of Mr Williams paying for the entire restaurant for a night.

He had brought me here after we left the boutique, saying his people would take care of the journalist, as usual, not offering more information than he was obliged to give.

I didn't complain. I thought he'd start yelling at me when he took me to this seafood restaurant, but he was strangely quiet after the waiter left.

Initially, I intended to ride over the silence, but now I couldn't bear it anymore.

“Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone out like that. But I thought… I don't know I was feeling suffocated there and–”

He was looking intently at me, his eyes cutting through me like sharpened blades.

“Aren't you going to say anything?!” I whispered and yelled, feeling exasperated.

His eyes focused on me and then on the waiter who was arriving with plates of mouthwatering seafood boil and other side dishes.

A drool escaped the corner of my mouth, but I quickly wiped it out of sight.

“Eat,” he said, and it wasn't hard to do just that, though I felt like the food wasn't going down right because of my guilt.

I'd almost blown out secrets to the press, and now he was serving me seafood? Finally, I put my sauce-stained gloved hands to the side.

“I'm sorry, I did notice that man earlier, but I thought he was just a creep,”

He sighed.

“I can't blame you too much. You're no hostage of mine in the first place. But you have to understand that this won't be permanent after you get pregnant and give birth, you can leave. I won't hold you back,”

His eyes darkened slightly.

“Who knows I might not make it till tomorrow, but you'll be compensated for your time nevertheless.”

My appetite died when he said that, speaking so lightly of his life. But my conscience took a jab at me. Wasn't that part of the reason I chose to marry him? Objectively speaking, the sooner he croaked, the better for both of us, but I couldn't help but feel like crap.

“Aren't you going to eat?” I asked, trying to strike conversation and clear the tense air.

“I'm full,” he said, leaving no room for objection.

“What did you eat?” I found myself asking.

His eyes shot me a" Why do you want to know stare"", but I ignored it and picked up a scallop.

“You should try this…” I offered after freeing it from its shell where it had been swimming in sauce.

I thought he would stretch out his hand and eat, but he got up and took it with his mouth while my eyes widened like saucepans.

“It's good,” he admitted, as he was embarrassed. I definitely was. How could he do something like that so casually?

I relaxed back to my seat, rationalizing that his fickle health probably placed him in the position of being fed, so he just reacted reflexively without thinking about it.

He was licking the sauce off his lips and I found myself drawn to them, how the shyly red sauce made them look more plump and kissa–

“You're staring,” he pointed out, and I blushed. I snapped my head at a crab leg, manhandling it as I fought through my crippling embarrassment for a reply.

“We're the only two people here. ""Of course, I'd look at you even without meaning to,” I said.

“I see,” he accepted a little too easily.

“Let's go,” he said. “I'm starting to feel dizzy.” I think I need to lie down soon.”

I looked at him, empathy unintentionally swelling up in my heart.

“That must be my fault, right?” I asked.

“It's a little bit of mine for coming after you instead of just sending someone to fetch you,”

He stood up at his full overwhelming height. It always took me back because my ex-husband wasn't as tall–or even close.

“Let's go,” he repeated, and I stood up and glanced at my leftovers; his eyes followed mine.

“The cook at the mansion can make you more seafood,”

I was surprised when he said that.

“Can I really eat something else outside my diet?”

He arched his eyebrows as we were heading for the car.

“Of course, as long as it won't affect your body negatively.”

We agreed to completely remove junk food out of my diet for the sake of the baby. It was the same for him too, because his own health would greatly affect how my pregnancy would go.

The ride back to the mansion was mostly quiet, not the awkward type that had choked me up at the restaurant before we could clear the air. Nope, this was welcoming and serene.

I kept taking glances at him, this time more carefully, so he wouldn't notice. As we were reaching the mansion, I decided to break the ice again.

“Mr Williams, thanks for today. It almost felt like a…date,”

I had meant to play it off like a joke to overlook that somewhere tonight we had almost seemed like a real couple.

I looked at Mr Williams, not expecting him to crack out with laughter, but maybe I had managed to get him to smile, which would be a big first.

Instead of a smile, his face darkened. Every inch of his face revealed that the *joke* I tossed had collided with an uncaring brick wall.