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My nerves evaporated as we navigated through the restaurant, replaced by pangs of hunger. White plates were stacked with vibrant twists on old favorites: the fanciest looking burger I'd ever seen, pizza topped with exotic and colorful ingredients, salads that almost looked too beautiful to eat.
My hunger waned as I realized that the trip to the back of the restaurant was more lengthy than I expected. We left the main floor behind us, pointed down a narrow hallway that forced me to dodge and maneuver past servers with trays who were way too accommodating and friendly considering I was the one inconveniencing them.
"Are we close-?" I asked the hostess, leaving a blank space for her name, to cover the annoying 'are we there yet?' vibe from my question.
"Margaret," she replied with a giggle. She didn't stop. "You'd think Jason would spring for some high tech gadget so we could just zip to the dining suite."
Dining suite?
Margaret came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the hall and if I hadn't slowed, trying to figure out why Jason would be springing for anything at the restaurant.
She wheeled back to face me, her face scrunching like something was on the tip of her tongue. "What are those thingies called? The futuristic zipping around stuff that was all the rage for awhile.”
"Hover boards," I answered, getting the lead out as she started back down the hall. I was still trying to figure out why Jason would be springing for anything at all.
I got my answer when we reached an ornate wooden door, guarded by a burly man who looked ready to take anyone down who was foolish enough to try him.
"Stevie!" Margaret fist bumped the man and he flashed a brief smile, then turned back to stone when he saw me. "This is Jason's guest, Natalee Madison.”
I had no time to digest the fact that she knew my full name, because I was too focused on the fact that she said it reverently, like she'd be in big trouble if she mispronounced a syllable.
"Right this way,” Stevie rumbled.
He pulled open the door without hesitation, going back to attention as I walked past...then shut the door behind me.
Suite? The place reminded me of a lounge. The lights were dimmed, encouraging one to release your inhibitions because here, you could be anonymous. Candles as big as my head raged on pillars spread around the room, the vanilla scent relaxing and inviting. There were no tables back here, just onyx colored floor pillows and a bar area with two stools.
One was occupied, the man in the chair commanding authority even with his back turned. I knew it was him without even seeing his face because the aching need between my thighs was back...along with the need to take him by the shoulders and shake him until some truths came out.
When he'd first suggested meeting, I'd jokingly asked if he owned the place. When the only other person in the room met my gaze from behind the bar, then wasted no time at all exiting, I knew I had the answer to one of my questions.
He was the boss.
CHAPTER EIGHT: JASON
It took second guessing which button down shirt I wanted to wear, coupled with the urge to have a drink or three while I was waiting, thirty minutes early, when punctuality was far from my strong suit, for me to realize that this was what first date jitters felt like.
How could anyone stand it? I kept checking my phone, going to my work email, pretending I wasn’t expecting a text from her at any moment. A text that explained that she was coming down with something and had to cancel, but the truth would have been she had a case of BS.
“Right,” I grunted, gesturing for the bartender to refresh my glass. Natalee wasn’t the kind of woman that bothered with bullshit. Her text would likely read, ‘You’re a jerk and I deserve better’. And when the bartender tiptoed over, one of the new hires who was almost as afraid of her shadow as much as she was afraid of me, I wondered if Natalee was right.
I was more of a silent, financial partner at Crave, but I still carried a big stick. The employees after my own heart were the ones who didn’t treat me like I was a king with unchecked power that you had to pledge an oath of fealty to. Staff like Margaret, who’d asked for my autograph when we met, then blurted out that I was almost as cute in person as I was in magazines. Or Stevie, who nearly crushed my hand when he shook it after we brought him on for VIP clientele who used the suite.
They were the only ones I’d told about Natalee. While we paid our staff well, the gossip rags would pay them even better for a tip re: billionaire playboy Jason Cox meeting with a woman for an honest-to-God date.
A real Cinderella story...and the last vibe I wanted to send to Natalee. I’d expected her to turn down my proposition and if she was all over the media because she was having dinner with me she’d...
Regret saying yes, a quiet voice echoed in my head. And for the first time in a long time, I actually cared what someone thought of me.
The bartender was shaking so hard that I was gonna have to slurp the scotch from the bar top, so I held up a hand to stop her. “Actually, I’m good.” Her Bambi eyes drowned, worry making her chew her bottom lip like I was about to fire her. “It’s cool, my-” I hesitated.
What should I call her? ‘Friend’ seemed a little too watered down. ‘Lover’ seemed a little too optimistic. ‘Woman’ seemed a little too right, and that freaked me out.
“She’ll be here any minute.” I said, being vague and up-ing the awkward by adding an uncomfortable chuckle to the end. “Then you can hit the road.”
I’d meant it as a joke, but she went so pale that her complexion was practically the same color as her ivory blouse. “Y-Yes sir.” Before I could tell her I was just messing with her, she darted to the opposite end of the bar and made herself look busy.
Maybe you’re not nearly as charming as you think you are, I thought to myself, staring at the ice in my glass. I was definitely 0 for 3 with Natalee. Strike 1: New Year’s Eve. Strike 2: fucking Scarlet in the bathroom and Natalee overhearing it. Strike 3: giving in to the devil on my shoulder and sharing the newlywed’s good news. I was lucky that she said yes. I deserved to have her flake.
