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Better enjoy this meal tonight because I have a feeling I’m in for chicken wings or greasy burgers tomorrow—not that I’m complaining—okay, maybe I am complaining.
I hope I don’t embarrass Drew.
My phone buzzes, and I immediately reach for it.
Unknown
Don’t forget to tip tonight.
19
DREW
Olivier returns alone after midnight, eyes half-lidded and sexy, careless with his body as he stands too close to me.
“Here’s your tip,” he says, as he slides his hand into the front pocket of my pants.
I squirm and try to bite back an amused grin while I pull him fully into the lobby by the arm.
I’d been trying for a smoother exchange where I handed him a card with the name of the restaurant for tomorrow and a time, but he blew it in a way that I can’t even be irritated about.
I slide the card off my desk, take his hand and slap the address into his palm. “This is for you.”
Olivier frowns down at it, and his brows lift. “Oh. Now I get it. I fucked it up. Thought it was weird—asking for a tip…”
“Curious to see how much you think I’m worth, though.”
“You’ll be pleased,” he says with a slight leer that I nevertheless find appealing. One of these days he might charm a full smile out of me, but I need to sort out the rest of my life before I have any hope of that happening.
“Come push the button for me.” He pulls me by the sleeve into the elevator vestibule.
Once I press the button, he tries to cop another feel. I jump back two feet, both wrists crossed over my crotch. “Negative, rich boy. The tip is for how well I push this button. Not the price of admission.”
He gives me unmistakable bedroom eyes and closes in on me again, invading my personal space with his heat—his expensive scent.
I suck in a breath of it and straighten up, giving me a couple of inches on him.
“You can come up after, you know. If you want to sleep better.”
I shake my head slowly, though I don’t look away from him, or dismiss the idea out of hand because it’s severely tempting. But Jericho is meeting me at the subway stop in the morning. She’s spending the day and night. I’m not sure how I’m planning to handle all that yet—probably play it by ear, because every time I’ve tried to come up with an approach to this situation with her, I get so upset, I have to make myself think about something else.
While I’ve cultivated some very low expectations for my own behavior in our relationship, I’ve had a lot of guilt when it comes to Jericho for a long time. I’m basically a movie that didn’t live up to the hype. This? This mess I’m making with the heir in 1204—well, let’s just say I hope my room in hell at least has a window, but I’d understand completely if it doesn’t. “Can’t,” I say. “Plans.”
He scowls. “What plans?”
“Personal plans.”
“How personal?”
The elevator arrives, but Olivier ignores it, though I slide my eyes to the opening doors indicating he should go ahead and step inside.
“Do your plans involve intercourse?” he asks.
“You sound jealous.”
I don’t know why I said that. It’s flirting. It’s—fucking coy is what it is. Who am I?
His gaze narrows, assessing me. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
