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He hung up his phone and turned to me. “You clean up well,” he laughed.
“Oh, did I just see Daimon again?” I asked mockingly.
“Why?” he wondered.
“You were an asshole to me my whole high school life, but these past two days you’ve been utterly unpleasant,” I remarked, trying to stifle the butterflies in my stomach.
“I figured you like the strong aggressive type,” he shrugged.
“No, actually I don’t,” I said in a solemn tone. All the flutters now lay dead, as a cold shiver came down my spine.
“Addie, you like it when someone is aggressive with you. You’re a fighter. You need someone to fight with,” he said earnestly. I shuddered at a past memory I wanted to forget.
“Addie?” he said quietly as he came closer to me; instinctively I took a step back, wanting my space. “What is it?”
I looked up and smiled pushing back that time of my life.
“Nothing. So where to, hot shot?” I asked, waiting. He narrowed his eyes at me. Daimon knew I was hiding something, but as per the contract, he couldn’t force it out of me. Our past was off limits.
“Lunch, then a bar,” he said, still watching me closely.
“Then lead on.” I nudged toward the door.
Had you told me ten years ago I would be walking around Lower Manhattan on Daimon’s arm, I would have said you were crazy, and that I would rather put bamboo slivers under my fingernails. Yet, here I was, hand in hand with Daimon as he walked with me to the restaurant he wanted us to eat at.
“Where are we going?” I asked, unnerved at the very touch of Daimon’s hand.
“To Delmonico’s,” he said as we finally reached the restaurant.
Two tall Corinthian columns flanked the door of the flat iron building that housed the restaurant. Daimon led me up the few steps and held the door open for me. I walked in with Daimon close behind. We stood at the maître d’s podium and waited.
“Yes, Mr. Evans, right this way.” A tall man appeared wearing a custom tailored suit.
“Come here often?” I asked, as I looked at him mockingly. Daimon placed his hand on my lower back and began guiding me through the store.
“Once or twice,” he smiled.
I arched my back as the feeling of his hand, the heat of his touch, radiated through me. He moved his hand higher up and pulled me in closer. That simple gesture melted some of my resolve. It’s just a deal, Addie.
“In here you are my woman, so don’t look like you’re disgusted with me,” he said in a hushed, slightly miffed tone. I took a deep breath and tried to relax. It wasn’t that I was disgusted by him so much as I was surprised what his touch had done to me. I looked around the restaurant. Everyone who knew restaurants knew this place. I couldn’t believe I was here, walking through one of the most famous restaurants in New York, not to mention the priciest. Wealth oozed throughout the eatery.
Dark red tones flowed throughout, as red mahogany chairs and booths lined the restaurant. We were led to a more private area. The gentleman held out his hand as Daimon led me to the table covered in a pure white linen cloth. Two small plates were placed on either side as wine and water glasses bordered the plates on the table. Carefully, I sat down feeling completely out of my element.
I looked around at murals of the roaring 20s and 30s painted on the walls. I was totally taken in by all that was around me. Even though I was in awe, I had to admit I could never truly get used to this kind of lifestyle. The rich played a different ballgame than I did and I was okay with that.
“I guess you like it here,” Daimon said as he sat next to me.
“Um— shouldn’t you sit across from me?” I said anxiously as I watched him move in closer.
“No. I want to sit next to my woman,” he said in a hard tone.
Daimon ordered wine for us as I looked through the menu, I couldn’t believe the prices. I knew it was expensive, but I guess being poor makes you think about money more than others.
“We’ll have a Delmonico's Salad and Acquerello Risotto to start then we’ll share the Double Porterhouse.” Daimon handed back his menu to the waiter.
“Daimon!” I exclaimed as I looked up from my menu.
“What? Does my lover want something else instead?” He peered at me, wanting me to comply. Screw that, even though I wanted what he ordered, I was going to order something else. There was no way I’d let Daimon order for me like I was a kept woman, which I technically was.
“I’ll have the crispy wild bass for my main meal,” I said smiling at the waiter as I handed over the menu. Daimon’s eyes narrowed, but a faint smile appeared on his face.
