Jacques pulled out the chair for Francesca.
“Thank you,” she said as she sat down.
“You're welcome,” he replied as he sat across from her.
The waiter brought shrimp as a starter. Francesca loved shrimp. She engaged him in conversation as they ate. It was obvious that he was passionate about boats, which he made sound fascinating. She was glad to know that there was something to him other than politics.
“Tell me about yourself,” he asked her.
“There is nothing much to say,” Francesca replied as she blushed. She did not even know where to begin. The waiter poured them some red wine.
“I am sure that is not true.”
“Sadly it is. What is your name anyway?” Francesca changed the subject. She actually wondered what his first name was.
“Olivier. Tell me what your favourite colour is.”
Francesca narrowed her gaze at him. “My favourite colour?” Talking about favourite colours was such a juvenile thing.
“Start there if it is difficult to speak about yourself.”
The waiter served them lobster and pasta with herb creamed sauce. Yet again, Francesca was impressed. Olivier had chosen good food, if he was the one who had chosen them. “Purple,” she finally said as she picked up her fork.
“Green looks good on you,” he told her as he remembered the green dress she wore at the charity event.
“Thank you.” Francesca was not sure what to say.
“You are a closed book.”
“I actually just realised that I am not that interesting,” she confessed. Olivier raised his eyebrows.
“Is that so?”
Francesca sighed as she shrugged her shoulders. She told him about working on her degree, but that she had never worked a day in her life. She had recently moved into the palace to be closer to her sister until she gave birth. Now she had nothing to do. She also told him about the charity events and dinner parties she organised.
They carried on talking as they ate. The sky was streaked in a rainbow of colours, as the sun rested upon the horizon. Francesca thought it was beautiful as she sipped from her glass and looked at the sunset. For dessert, they were served a chocolate soufflé. Francesca had to admit that this was the best meal she had eaten in a long while and the company was not that bad either. After dinner, they stood on the deck looking out at the sea.
“So dining with me was not that bad after all,” Olivier said to Francesca, as he stood closer to her.
“Excuse me?”
“I know that you were dreading it and now you realise that there was nothing to worry about.”
“You are always quick to assume things about me.”
“Just stating an observation.”
“You make it sound more like fact.”
Olivier moved closer to her and started taking the hairpins out of her hair. Francesca looked at him. “What are you doing?” she asked him. He ignored her as he finished pulling the hairpins out and let her hair cascade down her back.
“You have beautiful hair and it looks good when it's down. It makes you look less uptight,” he said to her. Francesca raised her eyebrows.
“You are a peculiar man.”
Olivier laughed. He gently took her shoulders and turned her toward him. He massaged her shoulders as Francesca looked at him. She had no idea how to react. It felt good the way he was touching her and did not want him to stop.
“You are so tense,” he said. “No surprise there.”
“Why is that not surprising?” Francesca's speech was a little slurred as she struggled to keep her eyes open. She did not want to close them. Closing them meant admitting that she liked his touch. While she had been kissed once before, she had never been touched by a man.
“You do not seem like you relax much.”
“Another assumption.”
“Observation.”
Francesca stopped him from massaging her as she began to feel uncomfortable with how close he was to her. “How come you did not remarry?” she asked him. She had remembered Macee telling her that he was divorced.
“I have not