AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He pauses again. “Do you want to leave?”
“No. That’s not it, either. But if you’re looking for a playmate tonight, Ronan, I’m afraid it’s not going to be me.”
He reaches across the table and grabs my hand, stopping my nervous finger drumming. “I am looking for a playmate, Blossom. And it will be you. Maybe not tonight, but eventually.”
His deep voice mesmerizes me. He sounds so sure of himself, and he makes me feel sure as well.
Because I can see it. I can see myself in a scene with him, submitting to him.
But something holds me back.
“I’ll tell you what,” he says. “If you give me your number, I’d like to take you out. On a real date. Something that requires planning, making sure every moment is perfect.”
I bite my lip. “I don’t date.”
“I don’t, either.”
I look into his smoldering blue eyes. “Then why do you want to date me?”
“That, Blossom, is the question of the century. I wish I had an answer for you.”
I smile then. Something about him fills me with an emotion that’s unfamiliar. It’s not the elated feeling of endorphins after a scene. But it’s a happy feeling nonetheless, like maybe I found a friend. Or more.
He rises, takes my hand. “Come on.”
He leads me out of the club, and we retrieve our phones from Claude. Then we head upstairs to the bar. I put my black trench coat back on.
Ronan takes me to a vacant table near the middle of the room. “Will you give me your number?”
“All right.” I recite the digits as he plugs them into his phone.
He sends me a quick text. “Now you have mine,” he says.
June, one of the servers here at the upstairs bar, heads over to our table. “Can I get you two anything?”
“Fifteen-year Macallan,” Ronan says. “Blossom?”
“Just some water, please.” My stomach growls. “And an order of fries, maybe.”
“That sounds good.” Ronan nods. “Two orders of fries.”
“Right away.” June whisks away from the table.
“Tomorrow is Sunday,” Ronan says. “When can I take you to dinner?”
I check the calendar on my phone. “I don’t work weekends, so tomorrow will work fine.”
“So you work Monday through Friday at the shop? What are your hours?”
“Ten a.m. to six p.m. Sometimes I stay late and help with inventory.”
“Good to know.”
“How about you? What are your hours?”
He gives me his now-famous almost-grin. “Whatever I want them to be. I’m the boss. Though this new contract with Black, Inc. is taking up a lot of time. Lots of meetings, lots of teleconferences. I’ve been working ten- to twelve-hour days since I got back to the States.”
“Can’t anyone fill in for you?”
