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I gulp. “You are? Really? How?” I finish in a whisper.
He grins mischievously. “Have dinner with me tonight and I’ll tell you.”
The invite has a subtle command to it, and a delicious shiver runs down my spine. Goosebumps dance across my skin and it takes me a few seconds to remember to breathe.
“Um,” I say. “Um, sure. Yes.”
“Great,” he grins, throwing me a wink. “I’ll meet you at your room at six?”
“My room?” I ask, stupefied. “But how do you know where I’m staying?”
He cocks his head at me.
“I’m the CEO remember? And I own Ligne NYC, so in a way, I’m paying for everything.”
I gulp, my cheeks going red.
“Okay sure, Mr. Neuwirth. Sounds good. My room it is then. I’ll see you at six.”
He winks.
“Wear something sexy,” is his last command, and then he strolls away. I gape, watching his broad back disappear. Holy crap, did the gorgeous CEO just tell me to wear something sexy for our date tonight? Not only that, but is this a date? It doesn’t feel like a corporate event, that’s for sure.
Suddenly, this isn’t a business conference anymore. I have the sneaking suspicion that Malcolm Neuwirth wants more from me than just some conversation, and the truth is, maybe I’m ready to give it to him. After all, he’s already seen what he needs to see, and the alpha male likes it. So what if I give him what he wants? Two can play at this game, and suddenly, I’m warm with anticipation at the prospect of sparring with the handsome CEO.
5
Leslie
After Mr. Neuwirth left La Verve, I sprang into action. Sure, I have some nice dresses with me, but they’re work outfits. They certainly aren’t the type of thing you wear when you’re going out to dinner with a handsome CEO. Plus, they’re definitely not sexy, and I want to be a vamp for my first date with Malcolm Neuwirth.
As a result, after finishing my sandwiches, I immediately went to the high-end boutique within the Wilshire. Holding my breath, I picked out a curve-hugging black number with a subtle sheen that’s sexy but not over the top. The décolletage is demure, but it’s got a plunging back and a sexy slit up one side that shows off some creamy thigh. I didn’t even look at the price tag, and instead charged it to my room.
Plus, my hair looks especially nice tonight. I’ve pulled the sides back away from my face while leaving the rest down, and my curls drape over my shoulders in a sexy way. With a subtle dusting of make-up and my strappy black heels on, I look very alluring indeed. Turning, I check myself out in the mirror. Very nice.
There’s a knock at the door just as I’m looking myself over one last time. Quickly, I dab on some lip gloss, and then walk slowly to the door before opening it.
Malcolm is wearing a black suit with a white button down shirt which highlights his bronzed throat. His ebony hair looks as deep as night, and those blue eyes are startling against his tanned features.
“You look beautiful,” he growls, that heated gaze running up and down my frame.
A flush fills my cheeks and I smile up at him. “Thank you,” I murmur. “You look handsome, too.”
The gorgeous CEO holds his arm out and I link mine through his and close my room door behind us. Then, we take the elevator down to the first floor and Malcolm leads me to one of the restaurants in the Wilshire. The sign on the door says Miccholino in an elegant gold script, and there are potted plants decorating a rustic, wooden exterior.
“I hope you like Italian,” Malcolm says.
“Are you kidding?” I giggle. “I love Italian, and I wish pasta was one of the major food groups because I eat so much of it.”
Malcolm chuckles and holds the door open for me as we enter the restaurant. I gasp because the restaurant is beautiful, as befits the Wilshire Hotel. The lighting is low, lending a romantic vibe to the space, and “Ciribiribin” is playing low throughout the restaurant as the maitre’d greets my date.
“Mr. Neuwirth, so nice to see you again. The Miccholino always welcomes you.”
“Thanks, Marco,” Malcolm replies. “It’s nice to get away from Manhattan from time to time, and I always enjoy dining here.”
“We’re honored, sir. We’ve got one of our VIP tables open tonight, right by the bay window. Please allow me to show you and your lovely date to your table.”
With that, we follow the middle-aged gentleman to the best seat in the restaurant. The décor is rustic Italian, but with a glamorous touch. Wooden beams hanging with ivy dangle over our heads, and the tables are draped in white, with flickering tea lights in the center. Malcolm pulls out my chair for me and I swear butterflies start dancing in my insides as I smile and sit. Who knew there were men out there who still act like gentlemen? It’s so rare these days, that I figured they were a figment of my imagination.
