Compromising Kessen (The Vandenbrook #1)(15)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

Yet every inch of her body revolted against the idea. This was not the plan. Her plan had been to simply do her father’s bidding and return home as the new CEO of the London operation, not get married to a duke and live in Hades for the rest of her existence.

She hadn’t even seen her cousin since arriving. When she finally asked her grandmother where her cousin was, she gave her a blank stare as if to say, “You didn’t know?”

“She has gone on holiday for a few weeks and will return right before the wedding,” her grandmother said absentmindedly.

These are the things which kept Kessen biting her nails as she sat in the large salon, waiting for the Vandenbrooks to make a statement.

Christian wasn’t helping; he kept looking at her with hate in his eyes. The looks she threw back were nothing short of mutual understanding. She had her arms crossed over her chest, as if uncrossing them would lead to more pleasurable things.

And why couldn’t she stop thinking about that stupid kiss? Well, if she was being honest with herself, and apparently it was a night for honesty, it wasn’t really just a kiss. It had been a make out session from heaven. Only the ending had been a little off.

She moaned, and then realized it had been loud enough for Christian to hear. He lifted one eyebrow and smirked at her. Thank God he couldn’t see how much of an effect he had on her. Her stomach fluttered treacherously while she used all the strength she could muster to turn away.

Just then her grandmother and the duke entered arm in arm. They both looked extremely pleased, which did not make Kessen feel any better.

The duke spoke first. “I would like to be the first to offer congratulations on your engagement. I had been hoping it would be a higher match…” His eyes settled on Kessen. “…But the Newberry family is a close second to the family I already had in mind for our alliance. You will do quite well, Kessen. And Christian…” He went to grab his hands. “I see the title and all the wealth will pass down to you after all. Never fear. I wouldn’t dream of disinheriting you, now that you have a fiancée to take care of!”

Kessen’s grandmother was suppressing laughter as she stepped toward them. “Oh, my love! You look tired; doesn’t she look tired?” She glanced to the duke, who nodded his head emphatically. “Why don’t you and Christian go have a little snack in the kitchen while we discuss specifics?”

“Certainly.” Christian finally broke his long silence.

“Stupid kitchen’s the reason for this fiasco in the first place,” Kessen mumbled, but Christian must have heard, because the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile.

As soon as they exited the room, they pushed one another away. “This is all your fault!” Kessen accused. “How was I supposed to know there were paparazzi?”

Christian refused to comment. Instead he sent an ugly sneer her way before opening the door and puffing up his chest. “I’m sure you’re used to gentlemen falling all over themselves for you, Kessen, but please. Do you honestly think someone like me would need to trap you in order to get you?”

Kessen saw red.

Of course, she had read numerous stories where women swear they saw nothing but red when they got angry, and she was having a real-life experience of it in this moment. Nobody should be held accountable for doing things when they saw red … nobody.

She threw a wooden spoon.

He ducked, quite agile for a Brit.

He grabbed a pot as she began throwing limes, oranges, and pears—anything she could find, until she found a large grilling fork.

“Aha!” she yelled, pointing it out in front of her.

“My apologies, Father. Can’t get married, because my fiancée is crazy!” he yelled, knocking the fork out of her hands and tackling her, sending both of them sailing into the flour.

****

Christian hadn’t meant to lose all control, but he couldn’t be held responsible for any of his actions in the presence of Kessen. She absolutely brought out the worst in him, which suffice to say, was not a pretty sight.

He felt as if they were in slow motion when they finally sailed into the flour. He had managed to get all sharp pointy objects away from Kessen except the fork, which was now flying across the room at an alarming speed.

And then the flour hit. He couldn’t even see for a few seconds as the air filled with white dust particles settling onto what seemed like every square inch of his body and Kessen’s. She coughed beneath him, and then laughed.

It was devastating.

And at that moment, in the flour with the most irritating American girl he had ever met, he became completely ruined.

His body was already responding to his head, as everything began pulsating with heat. She was aggravating, but she was interesting, and he wanted her.

In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when he had wanted a woman this badly, and he had had a lot of women during his years at university.

Then she smiled, all covered in flour and innocent. Their foreheads touched, and their eyes locked. He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t, but he was having trouble with self-control that night.

His lips descended towards hers. Obviously he had already made the decision, and he didn’t care about anything but tasting her again.

Another throat cleared. There had to be another type of signal people could use.

He looked up to see her grandmother regarding them with the most peculiar look on her face.

“Food fight?” she asked, arms still crossed but eyes twinkling with mischief.

Christian jerked away from Kessen and helped her up from the floor.

“No,” Kessen answered. “Christian was throwing flour at me, and then he threw a fork, Grandma. A fork—as in a sharp object! I barely escaped with my life.” She bent down and kissed her on the cheek. Goodnight.”

She turned and winked at Christian, then walked out of the kitchen.

The little minx had totally thrown him under the bus. He looked guiltily from the flour to her grandmother and shrugged, because what else could he do? He could deny it, but it would be her word against his.

Lady Newberry walked strategically through the flour and put both tiny hands on his chest. “You, sir, are going to have your hands full with that one.”

“Understatement of the century,” he murmured and kissed the sweet lady on the cheek. “Good evening, Lady Newberry. May I call on Kessen tomorrow?”

“I’ll make certain she’s ready,” she answered, waving him off.

Kessen was unwise to provoke him, or poke the beast, as they say. She couldn’t fool him, and the sooner she realized how evenly matched they actually were, the better off both of them would be in this engagement.