Amanda's Guide to Love (29 page)

He scowled but said nothing.

“She shares your heritage, your
culture. Kes, your infatuation with Amanda will pass, and there’ll be nothing
left between you.” She sighed. “There’s a good reason why birds of a feather
flock together.”

“Birds of a feather,” he said with
a smirk, “also bore each other to an early grave.”

Django smacked his fist on the
table. “Son, this is your last chance to make everything right. I suggest you
give it
very
serious consideration.”

Kes nodded and stood. With a heavy
sigh, he picked up his disposable utensils and threw them into the trash.

“Tata, Mama.” He hoped he sounded
respectful but firm. “I know you want the best for me. Clara is great, but—”

His sister covered his mouth with
her hand. “
Mouk!
Shut up before you say something you can’t take back.”

He glared at her.

“Go back to Paris and think about
it like Tata said.” Rosanna widened her eyes at him and nudged him toward the
door. “Think well.”

He mumbled a good-bye and walked
out into the rain.

“We love you, too, Kes!”
Rosanna shouted after him.

When he stepped into his apartment,
Marco was sprawled on his couch, snoozing. Kes smiled. So, that’s what his
cousin had been up to today—taking advantage of his spare keys. He surveyed the
room for evidence of a party or female presence, but didn’t detect any. Well,
he’d ask Marco in a few minutes, but first he needed to take a shower and
change into fresh clothes.

Twenty minutes later, Kes grabbed
two bottles of beer from the fridge and woke up Marco.

“What time is it?” Marco mumbled,
rubbing his eyes.

“Eleven.” Kes handed him a bottle.
“I have an appointment at midnight, so I won’t be able to keep you company.”

“You’re seeing Amanda?”

Kes nodded.

“You’re still stuck on her?”

“Superglued.” Kes gave him a wink.
“In fact, I made some decisions on the train from Lyon.”

“I’m all ears.”

“I’m not going to Vegas. I’ll stay
in Paris and . . . adjust my lifestyle.”

Marco frowned, confused. “What do
you mean?”

“I’m going to settle down here for
a while. A long while. Amanda loves this city.”

Marco put his hand against his
mouth, a strange look in his eyes.

“I’ll learn a new trade where I can
use my skills and don’t have to travel all the time.”

“Unbelievable.”

Kes shrugged. “She’s worth it.”

“You need a drink.” Marco stood and
retrieved a bottle of cognac from the plastic bag on the floor. “We both do.”

Kes pointed at his bottle. “We
are
having a drink.”

“We need something stronger than
beer.” Marco darted into the kitchen and returned with two glasses.

Kes studied him while he poured the
cognac. “What’s going on?”

Marco handed Kes a glass. Something
akin to pity flickered in his eyes.

“Spit it out.”

“I saw Amanda in a restaurant with
another man earlier today,” Marco said in one breath.

“So what?” Kes shrugged. “Eating
dinner with a person of the opposite sex isn’t a crime. It could’ve been work
related—she’s been applying to lots of jobs and trying to network.”

“It wasn’t work related.” Marco
swallowed. “It was a candlelit dinner, Kes. And they held hands.”

“You’re lying.”

“Really? Have you lived among the gadje
so long you forgot that Gitans don’t lie to each other? I would
never
lie to you.”

Kes stared at him, trying not to
show that his world was turning upside down.

“Are the two of you exclusive?”
Marco asked.

“We haven’t put it into words, but
that’s the assumption, yes.”

“Well, that’s
your
assumption. Amanda clearly assumes otherwise.”

Kes rubbed his forehead. “I know
you won’t lie to me, but it just doesn’t add up. Amanda’s not a cheater. She
would’ve told me if she was seeing someone else.”

“So you trust your lying gadji more
than your cousin and best friend?”

Kes stared out the window.

“OK, pral, you know what? You don’t
have to believe me. You can believe your eyes, though.”

With his peripheral vision, Kes
watched Marco tap and scroll something on his phone.

When he was done, he placed it on
the table in front of Kes. “Take a look.”

It was a snapshot of a man Kes had
never seen before holding Amanda’s hand in a restaurant, just as Marco had told
him. The photo had today’s date.

“Were you tailing her?” Kes asked
after a long silence.

“Yes. I knew she was fishy, but I
also knew you were blinded by your feelings. So I needed to get evidence.” He
smiled smugly. “And I did.”

“Maybe he’s just a friend who
needed comforting,” Kes said, grasping at straws.

Marco sighed. “From where I sat, I
could make out most of their conversation. While they were holding hands, he
asked if she’d go out with him.”

“What did she say?”

“That she’ll think about it.”

Kes swallowed hard.

She’ll think about it.

“Don’t you see what she’s doing, pral?”
Marco shook his head. “I was so sure she was begging you to stay . . .
Has she even asked you?”

Nope.

Marco’s expression changed from
pity to disgust. “Why would she? Your gadji is lining up her next lover while
you’re still around. That way, her bed won’t grow cold.”

“I think you should go now.”

Marco stood. “I’ll give you space.
And remember—I’m on your side. I may have hurt you today, but I did it to save
you from bigger pain down the road.”

“I know,” Kes said.
“Thank you, pral.”

* * *

Birds of a Feather

~ ~ ~

A Woman’s Guide to Perfection

Guideline # 14

The Perfect Woman is strategic in
the choice of her life partner.

Rationale
: Dating someone who isn’t husband
material but is great fun may be acceptable under certain circumstances and in
a highly controlled environment. Marrying him is not. “But I love him” is a bad
excuse. Love has nothing to do with marriage.

A
word of caution
:
Sometimes determining if a man is husband material is not an easy task. The
main criterion is that he should belong in the same social circles as you.

Here
are a few additional pointers: (a) marrying up is acceptable but not ideal (you
may end up with in-laws who hate you); (b) marrying down is suicide; (c) avoid
men with an ex-wife and children who will compete for his attention; (d) avoid
men with parents and relations who could embarrass you.

Permissible
exceptions
: If you
are a royal princess, disregard pointer (a) above—you would be limiting your
options to only a dozen or so individuals in Europe. If you have an ex-husband,
children, and embarrassing relations, ignore items (c) and (d) above.

Damage
control
: If you’re
dating an unsuitable man, make sure to break up before you develop
feelings
.
Be strategic. Your entire future is hanging in the balance.

~ ~ ~

Amanda’s doorbell rang at fifteen
past midnight. She set her laptop on the coffee table and padded to the door.
For a second, she considered meowing but reminded herself that Garfield didn’t
meow. He talked.

“Kes?” she asked with her hand on
the door handle.

“Yes.”

He stepped in, smelling of
aftershave and . . . liquor?

“I see you had a good time with
your family,” she said with a sly smile.

“It was OK.”

He didn’t take her in his arms or
hold her face and kiss her.

Strange
.

She took a few steps toward the
living room and stopped when she realized he’d stayed in the hallway.

He was acting weird tonight.

“Is everything OK?” she asked.

“Couldn’t be better.” He gave her a
long, heavy-lidded look, his expression unreadable. “How was your day?”

She smiled brightly. “Fantabulous!
Julien got fired and . . . Ta-da! ENS wants me back—on my
terms.”

“That’s great.” His tone was flat.
“Anything else you’d like to tell me?”

Was that all he had to say about
her big news? Didn’t he know how much it meant to her? Hurt lumped in her
throat.

“Nothing comes to mind.” She
smirked. “I hope you weren’t fishing for a declaration of love.”

He peered at her for a few long
moments, then turned away and muttered a curse.

She’d never heard him swear before.

How drunk was he exactly?

When he turned back to her, his
expression was stern. “Take off your nightgown.”

What?

Amanda blinked.

Was he going Christian Grey on her?

But of course! That explained it.
He’d had too much to drink tonight, probably to muster the courage to tell his
folks he loved them. Kes could hold his liquor, but then again, she’d never
seen him drink more than a glass or two of wine. So this is what booze did to
him—it silenced his gentle side and exacerbated the wicked one.

The one that wasn’t interested in
discussing her career prospects or the Morenos’ response to his bombshell but
fancied some naughty role play instead.

OK, then, she’d go with it. They’d
talk in the morning, when he sobered up and was himself again.

Slowly, Amanda pulled her nightie
over her head and let it drop to the floor. She wasn’t wearing panties. To her
surprise, she didn’t mind standing stark naked before him. Judging by the hunger
in his bottomless eyes and the way his gaze roamed her body, she wasn’t such a
shabby sight.

“Turn around,” he said.

She hesitated.

He gripped her shoulders and turned
her toward the wall, positioning himself behind her.

She planted her hands against the
smooth surface.

“You’re killing me,” he croaked
against her hair and pressed himself closer.

She leaned into him, heat gathering
between her legs.

Reaching around her, he cupped and
kneaded her breasts, rolling her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers.

Yes, please.

And then he pinched them—harder
than he’d ever done before.

She tensed. “Stop it! You’re
hurting me.”

He released her breasts but didn’t
apologize. His hands slid down to her waist. He kept his right hand there,
pressing her tight to him, while his left hand traveled farther down. As his
fingers spread and caressed her, desire returned, and soon she was writhing and
murmuring his name.

She couldn’t see him but felt his
teeth grazing the back of her neck. His fingers rubbed her, and his erection
pulsed against her backside.

“What do you want from me, Amanda?”
he asked, his voice unusually raw.

Everything
.

But right now . . . “I
want you inside me.”

She heard him unzip his jeans. He
nudged her closer to the wall, pushed her legs apart with his knee, and entered
her in one exquisite thrust.

She came at once, shaking
uncontrollably.

His body shuddered a few seconds
later.

He let go of her, sorted himself
out, and left without as much as a good-night kiss.

Amanda slipped her nightie on and
wobbled to the bedroom. She spent the next hour staring at the ceiling, trying
to understand what had happened.

The good news was she’d just had
the fastest orgasm of her life.

The bad news was she’d have to take
the morning-after pill because he’d been too pissed to use a condom.

All things considered, their first
kinky experience had been a failure.

She wasn’t having this kind of sex
again. Definitely not with Kes. She wanted his tenderness more than an instant
orgasm. She wanted his warmth.

And his love.

* * *

He didn’t show up in the morning,
as she had expected, with flowers and fresh croissants. He didn’t call or text,
either.

Amanda itched to talk to him, but
she told herself it could wait until after her ENS interview. Besides, Kes
might need some time to recover from an epic hangover.