The Kalliakis Crown. Michelle Smart
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grinned.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘After a hard workout I go for a burger every time.’
‘With cheese?’
‘It’s not right without the cheese.’
‘And chips?’
‘It wouldn’t be a complete meal without them.’
‘Cheeseburger and chips for me, then, please.’
‘Drink?’
‘Coke?’
His sensuous lips widened into a full-blown grin that was as sinful as the food she wanted. ‘Two cheeseburgers and chips, and two Cokes coming up.’
He got up from his seat, walked to the counter, fist-bumped the teenage boy working there and gave their order.
‘It won’t take long,’ he said when he sat back at the table.
‘Good. I am starving.’
‘I’m not surprised after that workout you did.’
‘It doesn’t help that I forgot to have any dinner before we left.’
‘How can you forget a meal?’ He looked at her as if she’d confessed to forgetting to put her underwear on.
She shrugged. ‘It happens. If I’m concentrating and lost in the music it is easy for me to forget.’
‘It’s no wonder you’re a slip of thing.’
‘I make up for it,’ she said defensively. ‘I might not eat at regular times, but I always eat.’
He eyed her, his look contemplative. Before he could say whatever was on his mind their food was brought over by yet another teenager.
‘That was quick,’ Amalie marvelled. Her famished belly rumbled loudly as she looked at the heaped plate. She didn’t think she’d ever seen so many chips on a plate, or a burger of such epic proportions.
‘We run a tight ship here.’
‘That’s not the first time you’ve said “we”,’ she said, picking up a thick golden chip that was so hot she dropped it back onto the plate. ‘Are you involved in this place somehow?’
‘This is my gym.’
She gazed at him, trying to stop her face wrinkling in puzzlement. ‘But you have a gym in your villa.’
‘And there’s one at the palace too.’ He picked up his burger and bit into it, devouring almost a quarter in one huge mouthful.
She shook her head. ‘So why this place too?’
He swallowed, his light brown eyes on hers. ‘This is a boxing gym. Sparring is no fun when you’re on your own.’
‘So you bought a gym so you could have some company?’
‘There were a lot of reasons.’
‘Do you run it?’
‘I employ a manager. Enough questions—eat before your food gets cold.’
‘Okay, but do me a favour and never tell my mother what I’m about to eat.’
His brow furrowed. ‘Why? Would she disapprove?’
Amalie had already bitten into a chip, possibly the crispest and yet fluffiest chip she had ever tasted. She chewed, then swallowed it down with some Coke before answering. ‘My mother is a gastronomy snob. She considers any food with English or American origin to be tantamount to eating out of a rubbish bin.’
‘Yet she married an Englishman.’
‘That’s true,’ she agreed, casting her eyes down. Her parents had been divorced for half her lifetime, yet the guilt still had the power to catch her unawares.
Talos picked up on an inflection in her tone. ‘Was it a bad divorce?’
‘Not at all. It was very civilised.’
‘But traumatic for you?’
‘It wasn’t the easiest of experiences,’ she conceded, before picking up her burger and taking a small bite.
It was with some satisfaction that he saw her eyes widen and her nod of approval.
‘That is good,’ she enthused when her mouth was clear.
‘Maybe not the gastronomical heights your mother would approve of, but still high-quality,’ he agreed.
‘I think this might be the best burger I’ve ever had.’
‘You mean you’ve eaten a burger before?’ he asked, feigning surprise. ‘Your mother will be shocked.’
‘I hide all my convenience food when I know she’s coming over.’
He grinned and took another bite of his burger. The workout had clearly done Amalie the world of good; most of her primness had been sweated out of her. She almost looked relaxed.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. It gratified him to see her eat so heartily; he had imagined from her slender frame and self-confessed lack of exercise that she would eat like a sparrow.
He tried to imagine eating with another woman here and came up blank.
In normal life this gym was his sanctuary—not somewhere he would bring a date, even if his date liked to work out. For the same reason he refused to make overtures to any of the women who worked here. Regardless of the fact that most of his female staff were, like the majority of his employees, teenagers, and so automatically off limits, he didn’t want the messiness that inevitably came about when he ended a relationship to spill into his sanctuary.
Melina, his kickboxing instructor, had blatantly flirted with him when she’d first started work here and—despite her being in her mid-twenties, and attractive to boot—he’d frozen out all her innuendoes until she’d got the message.
The endorphins released during a vigorous workout always made him crave sex, but he disciplined himself with the iron will Kalliakis men were famed for. Except for his father. The Kalliakis iron will had skipped a generation with Lelantos... Lelantos had been weak and venal—a man who had allowed his strong libido and equally great temper to control him.
It killed Talos to know that of the three Kalliakis Princes, he was the most like their father.
The difference was that he had learned to control his appetites and the volatile temperament that came with it. Boxing had taught him to harness it.
Tonight, though, the endorphins seemed to have exploded within him, and the primal urge to sate himself in a willing woman’s arms was stronger than ever. And not just any woman. This woman.
Theos, just watching Amalie eat made him feel like throwing her over his shoulder, carrying her to the nearest empty room and taking her wildly.
‘Do you consider yourself French or English?’ he asked, wrenching his mind away from matters carnal. He needed to concentrate on getting her mentally fit to play at his grandfather’s gala, not be imagining ripping her clothes off with his teeth.
‘Both. Why?’
‘You speak English with a slight accent. It made me curious.’
‘I suppose French is my first language. I grew up bilingual, but I’ve never lived full-time in England. My father’s always kept a home there, but when I was a child we used it more for holidays and parties than anything else.’
‘Was that because of your mother’s influence?’
‘I assume so. My mother definitely wore the trousers in that marriage.’ A slight smile, almost sad, played at the corners of her lips.
‘I