Page 2 of Not Another Dark Romance

Is Zane into men?

Would he be interested in tying me to a chair and holding a knife to my throat before having his way with me?

I doubt I’d be so lucky, but the fantasy has my heart rate kicking up a notch, and I can’t say for certain that he wouldn’t be into that. Real life is so boring, but in my dream world that would be the end result of this typical meet-cute.

The spark on my end felt instant, like getting zapped by lightning when our eyes met. Could he have possibly felt the same way?

Maybe when he brings back my water, he’ll command I drink it in a sultry tone as he watches my throat bob. Then he’ll lean in close and whisper, “Good boy,” and I’ll combust right here in this overpriced restaurant with the hanging plants.

If only.

I’m not actually insane, though. At least, I don’t think I am. Clearly, that’s a completely unrealistic fantasy, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling absolutely giddy at the thought.

I never claimed to be normal. My friends know this, and my Kindle really knows.

“Here you go,” Zane says as he places my water carefully in front of me. “Did you decide on any food, or do you need a few more minutes?”

No commanding demands. Just professional, buttoned-up waiter energy. Ugh.

Decided I want you, I’d like to say, but unlike when I’m alone, I bite my tongue and manage to keep that as an inside-only thought. Go me.

I’d actually forgotten to look at the menu again when he’d left, though. I was far too swept up in the dark fantasy of what we could be together. Two deranged people who live in our own fucked-up happily ever after. A man can dream.

“What do you like?” I ask, wanting to keep him here just as much as I’m wondering what he’s into, even knowing I won’t get the type of answer I’m really hoping for.

“Our salmon is really popular. So is the fried chicken sandwich.”

“Great, I’ll do the salmon. Thanks, Zane.” I offer him my most charming smile. He nods and smiles back as he takes the menu from me. Was that flirty, or polite?

My gaze stays focused on him as he walks away, my mind spinning with more fantasies of what a future with Zane could look like. He could totally pin me down with his big muscles and gruff yet hot exterior. I wonder what he does for fun? Maybe he reads dark romance too, and he’s having the same thoughts as me, thinking about how we could engage in some light kidnapping as a bonding activity.

Reading has given me so many ideas I want to live out, and even though exactly zero of them are legal in most states, consent is key. If he’s down, so am I, and I’m not about to stop hoping I’ll meet the right person to act out my fantasies with me.

The wait for food is torture. Absolute torture. I’m not even that hungry. I just want Zane to come back. I’m sitting here, pretending to read while actually watching Zane—a man I’ve quickly convinced myself could be my dream partner—move through the restaurant to talk to other people.

He stops at a table across the room, leaning in slightly to chat with an older couple, and I feel something twist in my chest. Is he flirting with them? “There’s no way, they’re, like, seventy,” I mutter softly as I bring the water up to my mouth. He’s just being nice. Probably leaning in while raising his voice so they can hear him better.

He didn’t lean in to talk to me, but what if he’s attempting to remain extra professional with me because he senses our connection? That’s probably it. The universe works in mysterious ways. Maybe he’s also wondering if I could be the one. I bet he saw the book I’m reading and realized we’re into the same things, that I could be the perfect person for him to act out his dark fantasies with.

A group of businessmen at the next table laugh with Zane as he hands them their check, and the way his deep, genuine chuckle rings out through the room seems to echo into my very soul. The sound is so warm I feel it in my bones. It’s like we’re already connected, and I know this isn’t some random encounter with a stranger I’ll never see again—this could be my chance for true love.

I’ve never felt this immediately connected to another person before.

Could Zane be my soulmate? Maybe.

Is it delusional? Only if I’m wrong.

The fact that he might not know I exist yet as more than a customer is just a minor plot point. In every dark romance, the hero has to prove his worth before ending up with their true love. Maybe I need to do something dramatic. Something that shows him I’m different from all the other people he’s waiting on.

I could “accidentally” spill water on myself. “No, too obvious,” I mutter. I could pretend to choke and let him save me? But that could be too dangerous because what if I actually die? Then I’d never get to live out my fantasies with the love of my life. Or what if someone else sees first? He might not even put his mouth on mine. I could⁠—

“Here’s your salmon.” Zane appears suddenly with my plate, and I jump, nearly knocking over my water glass, lost in yet another daydream. I didn’t even realize he was approaching.

“Thanks,” I manage.

He nods and walks away before I can say anything else, and I’m left alone with my food and the crushing realization that I have no idea how I could possibly get him to fall for me while he’s remaining so professional.

I’ve always had what some might call an “overactive” imagination. Okay, yes, some would probably even call me “delusional.” Though, I’d argue, in order to be successful, you have to have at least a little bit of delusion in you. The combination of the two is the reason I’m able to sell my art for five figures.