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“Only a little.”
If this is how the guys of Havoc House act when they actually like a girl, it’s not surprising how much attention they get on campus. It’s only been ten minutes and I’m already feeling like the main character from Pretty Woman. Most of the students at St. Bart’s come from rich families, but this is as much about power as it is money. One is usually an easy replacement for the other, but not always.
A waiter rushes up before we even have the napkins spread across our laps. “Wine list, sir?”
Drake barely glances at it before making a selection.
Turns out the menu doesn’t have prices, at least not for most things. Most of the entrees just say market price where a number should be.
The market price is never cheaper than you think it’s going to be.
He doesn’t seem bothered by the lack of price clarity. When the waiter swoops back in with a bottle of wine, Drake closes the menu and orders for both of us.
The waiter has already taken my menu before I can finish reading it.
“Did you really just order for me?” I ask, trying to decide if I’m amused or annoyed.
“I know what’s good here.”
I give him a smile that I hope comes off as mildly threatening. “Because you’ve been here so many times before?”
He takes a sip of wine before answering, keeping his expression neutral. “Nope. Never. Just heard stories from the guys. Pretty sure this is my first time here.”
Which is why the host recognized him on sight.
“Uh, huh. I bet you’ve sat at this exact table before. Your name is probably etched into the bottom.” I make a point of looking around with my eyebrow raised in mockery. “How many girls have gone all atwitter because you ordered for them?”
“I thought we were trying for normal,” he points out with a grin. “I know you’re out of practice, but guys aren’t supposed to talk about all the girls they dated before on a first date.”
That’s the first time I can remember him using the word boyfriend. If he has before, I like to think I’d be able to recall it. The feeling that rushes over me is scary in its intensity.
First, we were a trick. Then we became a secret.
Now only we get to decide what comes next.
Candlelight gives his face a warm glow, highlighting the burnished quality. Between the highlights in his dark hair and his skin, he reminds me of a piece of precious metal glinting in the light.
Everything about him looks rich.
“What would you do if you were broke?” I ask, genuinely curious.
He blinks, obviously surprised by the question. “Considering how expensive most things are, I probably wouldn’t do very much.”
“You know what I mean. Do you think you’d be able to handle it?”
His brow furrows as he considers it. “I guess I’d handle it like I do everything else. I did grow up in a one-room shack, you know.”
“But that was practically a lifetime ago,” I point out. “You’ve been able to have everything you want for the better part of a decade at this point.”
“Not everything I want, just everything money can buy. There is a difference,” he corrects. Then he shrugs, expression contemplative. “Humans are adaptable. You managed it.”
“My father didn’t give me a choice. He kicked me out.”
“Only because you refused to toe the line. If you’d played the good girl like Olivia did, you never would have ended up on the street.”
His mention of her surprises me. For the first time in almost a year, I have absolutely no interest in talking about my sister. “And we all see how that turned out.”
“Fair enough.” Drake studies me for a second, seeming to understand that something in me is finally shifting. “Speaking of things money can buy, you’ll have to let me know when I’ve put out enough that you will.”
