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Not the kind of traveling I was talking about.I was thinking more along the lines of mission trips, not sightseeing. “That sounds lovely,” I said through my teeth.
Where the hell was our food?
“It was a great experience, but now I’m looking toward a future that I can share with someone else.”
So he’d clearly given up on getting a ticket to the charity ball and was moving on to trying to convince me that he was looking to settle down and start a family, no doubt with me and my trust fund if he could pull it off.
“I’m sorry—could you excuse me for a minute?” I pushed back from the table and headed for the restrooms.
The thing that irritated me the most was that once upon a time, I would have fallen for this act. I’d want to believe that he found me attractive or interesting, that he wanted me and not my money. It had taken way too many dates before I learned to stop being hopeful. Ignorance is bliss, but ignorance can also get you trapped in a situation you can’t easily get out of.
I gripped the edge of the counter in the women’s bathroom and took a deep breath. I could text Nacio and he’d come save me. But I was twenty-three years old. I needed to fight my own battles and not just call in my older brother to make my problems go away.
I took a deep breath and looked up at my reflection in the mirror. I could do this. It was one dinner. I could survive listening to a guy attempt to charm me for another hour. Then we could part ways and never see each other again. There was no need to cause a scene or make this a bigger deal than it needed to be.
I tugged down the hem of my sensible cream-colored sweater that hid a velvety black crop top, then tucked back the wisps of hair trying to escape my clip.
“It could be worse,” I told my reflection. A mildly uncomfortable date was far from a crisis.
Turning away from the mirror, I headed back to my table, breathing a sigh of relief when I saw that our waiter was heading toward me, his arms loaded with plates of food.
“Can I get you anything else?” he asked after setting the dishes in front of us.
“Could I have a glass of ginger ale?” I asked, ignoring the way my date’s brows rose.
The waiter nodded and promised to be back shortly.
I deliberately moved my half-full wineglass and water farther away from my plate and began cutting into my dinner. I never drank anything I’d left unattended. It didn’t matter who I was with. If they weren’t on a rather short list of people I trusted, I wasn’t willing to take any chances.
The rest of our meal passed in a montage of compliments and long monologues that I imagined were supposed to impress me but mostly faded into background noise as I let my mind move on to more interesting things. I had studying to do, but it was a Friday night and I wasn’t going home after this disappointment of a date without having some fun first. I didn’t really have to think about it. I knew where I was going after this meal. There was only one place I went when I was feeling discouraged or sad or pretty much any negative feeling.
* * *
My driver pulledto a stop outside Youngblood. The club had become my hideout two years ago, when I’d finally turned twenty-one, but even before that I’d been coming here and just hanging out in the lobby. No one had ever tried to tell me to leave, not even when I was still a sixteen-year-old kid.
I shed the light sweater and unpinned my dark hair, shaking it out until it fell loose around my shoulders and halfway down my back. It felt like shedding a costume. Here I could be myself. If anyone recognized me in Youngblood, they never said so.
The building hadn’t changed since I first set foot inside it eight years ago. Dark red wallpaper covered the walls above dark wood wainscoting. Sconces fitted with electric candles gave off the only light besides the main chandelier that hung in the middle of the lobby. My heels clicked on the polished dark floor as I made my way across the room to the club’s entrance.
The bouncer looked me up and down. “You look lovely today, Adeline,” he said, holding out his hand.
We were on a middle-name basis, but he still insisted on checking my ID every time I came to the club. I think he did it to make sure I actually had my ID with me, but he’d never confirmed that suspicion.
“Thank you, Jules.” I smiled up at him brightly, already feeling lighter, and handed him my driver’s license.
He glanced at it for half a second before handing it back with a smile of his own. “You let me know if anyone gives you any trouble.”
“No one has ever given me any trouble.” It was the truth. Youngblood’s patrons were a lively bunch, but they were all respectful. I’d never been harassed or felt anything less than comfortable. It probably had to do with the scary-as-hell bouncers. I liked Jules a lot, but he was not exactly the warm and cuddly type. At well over six feet with military-short hair, biceps and forearms that were the utter definition of arm porn, and a sleeve tattoo that ran from the top of his shoulder to his wrist, he could pull off terrifying without any trouble.
“Just reminding you.”
I grinned and tossed my hair back over my shoulder. “I haven’t forgotten.” It was too bad Jules had a strict policy against dating Youngblood regulars. He was perfect dating material—fun, protective, sexy as hell, and as loyal as I could ever wish for. I’d never have to worry about him selling intimate pictures of me or trying to use me as a ticket into high society. And I liked him. He was honestly probably my favorite person I wasn’t blood related to.
“Get in there.” Jules jerked his chin toward the crowd beyond the doorway.
“Will you dance with me when you get a break?”
He gave me an amused smile. “You know I don’t mix business and pleasure.”
