“I hope Chinese food is okay. There is this great little hole-in-the-wall restaurant a couple of blocks from here that delivers.” Kean set the to-go containers in front of where I was perched on a bar stool at the kitchen counter. Only a couple of hours had passed since my last orgasm and I was famished.
After he was done worshiping my body for the third time today, I had taken a quick shower, put my dress and heels on from the night before, and asked to borrow his cell so I could order an Uber to take me to Brenda’s. I needed to retrieve my purse. Kean instead had ordered me to have a seat so we could eat. He announced when we were done, he would drive me to Brenda’s and then home.
“I love Chinese food. I should have probably warned you that I’m not exactly a light eater.”
“I’m glad you’re not,” he replied smiling. I quickly added it to my favorite memories file. “Women who pick at lettuce leaves like they’re fattening make me feel like a slob. Besides, after the workout I gave you this morning you should be starving.”
“Oh, trust me, I am starving,” I responded, grinning back.
Watching as he spooned food from each carton onto our plates, I took comfort in the new level of familiarity we had crossed into.
When both plates were heaped with fried rice, sesame chicken and an egg roll, Kean took a seat next to me. “Ciaran is an unusual name. I don’t think I’ve ever come across it before.”
I forked up a large helping of rice suddenly finding myself jittery. Even though we were on a new playing field, I feared adding Melany to the mix would somehow taint it.
Lightly laughing to release my tension, I gave him an honest answer. “Melany has a thing for Irish men. She thought it would be cool to name me after one.”
“Melany?” he inquired, leaning slightly in my direction. I don’t think he was aware of how, over the last twenty-four hours, he’d gravitated towards me more times than I could count.
“Melany is my mother. Well, is supposed to be my mother. She just never wanted to be.” The hurtful truth tumbled out too easy for my liking. I frowned at my fork while I berated myself for letting my facade slip.
Kean’s hand slid over mine sending warmth traveling up my arm. Turning my head towards him, I fell into the sea of dark green I dreamt about.
“Ciaran is a beautiful name. It suits you.”
Sympathy.
I caught a glimpse of it behind his eyes and I hated it. Sympathy was not something I had ever been able to tolerate especially when it was because of the hardships I had proudly hurdled in my life.
Looking down at his hand covering mine, my mental state began to tilt. A new thought snuck in. I cared about what this man thought of me much more than I had let on. And that wasn’t good. This man was supposed to be an assignment to complete, nothing more. In fact, it was an assignment that required the first draft to be handed in tomorrow morning and I had yet to do a thing to fix the mess I had made of it.
Besides, Kean didn’t want me. He didn’t want the same things I did. All my life, I’d fantasized about a loving relationship with a man who wanted the same things. A man who was a lot less closed off and didn’t have so many secrets. I needed to stop wasting time and finish my article so I could move forward and find the perfect man to settle down with. Dr. Kean Bennett was not him.
I pulled my hand away from his. “There is something I should probably tell you.”
“Well, now you have me worried,” he responded amused.
“I hate to bring this up right now but I feel like I need to. I’m having problems writing my assignment because I can’t use anything I have. Are you okay with answering a couple of questions?”
He looked thoughtful for a moment while he took a drink from his glass. “I’m not really comfortable giving interviews. I never have been. I’m definitely not open to answering anything personal.”
“Why don’t we start with something easy? Explain why you think so many people are unhappy with their looks?”
He ran a hand through his dark hair. “It has to do with a lack of self confidence. Society plays such a huge part with the obsession of appearances. You see and hear about it everywhere. There are flawless people on television, in movies, on billboards, and in magazines. These days it’s worse due to social media. That’s why all these filter apps are so popular.”
“Is that why you donate your services to help burn victims who cannot afford insurance?”
Kean’s looked taken back. “Who told you?”
“I promised I wouldn’t tell,” I said solemnly and made a tiny x over my heart with my index finger.
“Well, considering Gloria is the only one who knows about it because she handles my schedule, all fingers point that direction. Remind me to hold back her bonus this year.”
“Kean!” I exclaimed.
He laughed before growing serious again. “I wouldn’t do that. You have to promise you will not write about it nor tell anyone. I’m not comfortable with the information getting out.”
“But why? You’re doing a tremendous thing by helping those children.”
“It’s not tremendous. I’m just trying to make a horrific situation better because I can. Friends and family can rip a child’s confidence to shreds not even realizing what they have done. A large majority of the time, it’s not even done purposely. When a family member raves over a person’s looks, little ears are often listening. It can create doubts at the earliest age and affect the child’s self worth. I don’t want any child to ever feel this way and burn victims have no control over what happened. Those children have been dealt a difficult hand early on and if I can make it any better for them then I need to.”
My eyes filled with tears. Touched by his way of thinking, my guard came tumbling down. “My childhood wasn’t the easiest but I was fortunate to be in a better position than the children you are helping. Melany may have gone missing for days but at least it saved me from being subject to her constant criticism.”
Kean gave me a look that reeked of compassion and had me pulling back in panic. I had to put an end to this conversation, to all of whatever was happening that made him look at me like he felt nothing but pity.
“Dr. Duarte was also a plastic surgeon. Was he your father? Was that the reason why you went into your career field?”
Kean’s body stiffened. “I told you no personal questions. My father is a closed subject,” he snapped.
I knew it was abnormal to feel relief at his anger but I did. It was a mixture of better and worse at the same time that put me back on kilter. I kept pushing. “I think if you gave some insight to your relationship with him, it would really help our readers relate to you better.”
The sound of a plate shattering against the floor sent me shrieking off my seat. The wood and metal barstool I was sitting on went careening to the tiled floor with a clatter just as loud as the exploding ceramic. Kean, in a fit of anger, had shoved his plate off the counter.
“Ciaran, I fucking told you my personal life is not up for discussion. Now stop wasting my god damn time and finish your lunch so we can leave. I’ve got things to do today,” he barked.
“You know what? I’m done. I apologize for being a complete waste of your time,” I snapped back. My eagerness to get as far away from him as possible propelled my feet to move. I let myself out of his apartment and caught the elevator. As each floor ticked away on the digital display above the doors, my frame shook.
What the hell was wrong with me? I knew what I was doing but couldn’t seem to stop. I had to keep pushing him. It was like some sort of internal self defense mechanism I couldn’t control.
When I reached the lobby it suddenly hit me that I didn’t have my purse or a phone.