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She takes a calming breath. “I’m not a prude.”
“I know that too. But I’m curious. I really was the exception to your ‘casual sex’ rule?”
“I was in a slump. You got me back in the saddle, so to speak.”
I sputter wine back into my glass, coughing at her words. “Glad I could be of service.”
“You still lied.”
I wipe my mouth and my eyes meet hers. “I did. But it was only because I’d seen you in the club a few weeks before. I would’ve asked you to have a drink with me, but I was called away on a work call. When I came back, you were gone. The next time I saw you, it was the day you walked into the building to meet Margaret.”
Her eyes go wide. “Holy shit,” she whispers, pushing her glasses up her nose.
I hold out my glass to hers. “I call a truce,” I say, overly confident. “We put the past behind us, and get to know one another. Neither of us can bring up what happened Friday night, unless it’s to rehash how fucking good it was.”
I revel in the way she bites down on her lip. “That’s just the thing,” she stammers. “How am I going to work for you and do this?”
“Let’s just take one day at a time,” I suggest, stretching the truth just a little bit. If I’m being honest, I want to hire her to keep her close to me. I like the idea of her being around. I also enjoy the thought that no other man will get a chance to get to know her while I’m around. I like that a lot.
I know she wants this as much as I do, but she has her principles. I wish I had mine sometimes.
She looks at me warily. When she fidgets, she’s cute as a button. “Okay, I can do that.”
The limo comes to a halt as we pull up outside the restaurant.
I smile. “Perfect.”
I haven’t touched her properly for almost a week and it feels foreign. I can’t stand it.
I plan to rectify that, but all in good time.
First we need to eat.
Imogen grazes over her food and I wonder if she’s being polite around me.
I don’t like women who don’t eat. I also don’t really enjoy stick thin women in general. I love Imogen’s curves, how she chowed down that burger in the hotel after I’d fucked her into next week. I like that I make her hungry.
I’m also curious to learn if she’s just nervous around me, or is this normal behavior?
We sit at a table in the back. They know me here and they won’t bother us.
“So, Doris likes you,” I say, trying to break the ice.
She looks up from her barely touched salad, she smiles softly. “She does?”
I nod. “Coming from Doris, that’s saying a lot. She may look like a dithery old woman, but she’s extremely sharp. You’ll enjoy working with her, if you decide to come on board.”
“She seemed lovely,” Imogen replies finally, she swallows a mouthful and I top off her wine. I don’t plan on drinking a lot, but the wine seems to make her a little more relaxed. “She was very kind.”
Getting information out of her while she’s sober is like getting blood from a stone.
I snort. “Kind? She must have had her game face on. She’s one of the few women, aside from my mother and my little sister, who I let boss me around. At least with Doris she’s doing it for the greater good.”
“Are you close with your family?”
“We’re Russian, so that’s a yes. My parents immigrated here when I was a boy. My sister is eight years younger than me. Sasha is the perfect child. I, on the other hand, kept my parents on their toes growing up. I was always getting into trouble, getting caught for drinking and smoking. My father was very strict, but it turned out to be the best thing for me.”
“I can only imagine.” She smiles. “What do your parents do?”
