“I want you to be mine, pretty.” He stated.
“Your submissive?” I asked, still confused.
“No.” He chuckled. “In one night, I can tell that pretty isn’t good at being submissive.”
I laughed before he continued. “I want you to be mine. Mine to call when I can’t get you out of my head. To take to lunch on a random workday. Mine to learn and protect. I want to know what makes you laugh when you’re not nervous. What ruins your day and how to fix it.”
For the first time, I felt my heart skip a beat or two. My stomach fluttered, but just as quickly, the moment subsided.
“That’s a very bold statement for someone who only spent a night with me.”
“It is.” He agreed.
“Then why say it?” I questioned.
“Because one thing I learned about myself is that if something has the power to make me lose control, I need to pay attention to it. Kissing you, cuddling you, having you in my bed afterward and breakfast the next morning, were all me losing control.”
I nodded. That was a lot to take in.
“I understand.”
He laughed.
“Honestly, I feel the same way that you did about relationships. I can’t reciprocate those feelings. Especially not right now.” I was honest.
“I don’t expect you to.” He said, then leaned forward and claimed my mouth. Our lips together did something that I couldn’t imagine. I grabbed the back of his head. Letting him devour me. We fought for dominance, and he won. He sucked my lips, making me whimper.
Then he pulled back and kissed my forehead just as the truck slowed to a complete stop in front of a tall building.
I recognized it immediately; it was the headquarters of his company. He pushed the door open and stepped out onto the pavement. He reached his hand out and waited for me to place my hand in it. But I didn’t. It was broad daylight; people were coming and going from the large office. I didn’t need the rumors swirling.
I disregarded his hand and stood next to him.
“Dinero, we’re in public.”
“Pretty, I don’t give a fuck. Let’s go.” He chuckled and grabbed my hand. Our fingers interlocked as we started walking through the building. I took some time to admire its structure; I had always passed this building but had never been inside. It was designed beautifully.
He took me in an elevator and pressed the button to the top floor, which required a security code to access. Once we stepped off, the heat from the sunny Chicago day hit me immediately.
I fanned myself as we stepped off the elevator onto a rooftop. I looked around in awe at the scene around me. He had transformed the entire roof into this beautiful scene. There were thousands of white roses, cashmere table runners, gold flatware, crystal glasses, and my initials embroidered into the linen napkins.
I smiled.
“This is beautiful,” I said, glancing at him, then back toward the view.
It was like every time I looked, I saw another detail that made me blush.
Music started softly as a chef, a hostess, and a security guard stood nearby.
He invited me over to the table set for the two of us, and I sat down across from him. We talked for hours, but it was this one particular part of the conversation that changed the way I viewed him. He said that he was good at reading people. I told him to tell me what he thought about me.
He responded.
“I don’t know anything about you. You’re hard to read.”
I asked, “If that’s the case, how can you say you want me after one night?” I circled back to that question. For some reason, it was eating away at me.
“I don’t.”
