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I’ll pick you up at 6 and take you to the restaurant.I want to know where she lives, dammit. And I want her to tell me.
Sorry, but I’m coming straight from work. I’ll meet you there.
Should I argue? Nah. It won’t get me anywhere. This woman’s more stubborn than I am — that’s for sure. Maybe Blake’s right. Maybe I should cancel. I toss my phone down and walk out of my office without bothering to offer a word of explanation to my brother. What else can I say? At this point, I sound like... a pouting baby. And that isn’t who I am.
I leave the offices and walk to my favorite coffee stand. After grabbing a hot Americano, I make my way to the small park nearby and take a walk around one of the trails. I’ve left my phone behind, something I never do. But all week this woman has been playing me. She sends me messages — usually steamy — and like the sap I’ve been, I reply, probably too quickly, and then I don’t hear from her for hours, or sometimes until the next day.
I remind myself again that I don’t play games. I told her that in the bar. Okay, so I might’ve said, “Let the games begin,” but I hadn’t meant it. Not really. Not in the actual sense. What makes the entire situation so damn awful is I’m allowing her to game me this way. I know what she’s doing, yet I’m not pulling back.
By the time I make my way back to my office, I decide I’m done. I’m going to cancel dinner. It’s decided. After all, I’m Tyler freaking Astor. If she isn’t going to respect me, I’m not about to waste my precious time on cheap trash like her. The world’s full of women who won’t jerk me around, and who’ll make excellent bed companions. I feel good in my decision. Even force a halfway decent smile to pop up on my lips.
That is until I reach the office and pick up my phone. Once I see the picture Olivia sent while I was gone, my brain’s fried. Dinner is most certainly back on... and dessert’s essential.
ChapterTen
Olivia
Tucked away in Pike Place Market, and definitely not an easy restaurant to find, the Pink Door is a classic Seattle destination I’ve wanted to check out for quite some time. Tyler choosing this surprises me. I don’t take him for a dinner-and-cabaret type of guy. I step from my cab and walk down the alley toward the restaurant.
I instantly spot Tyler. He looks suave in his custom-tailored suit, which hugs his shoulders to perfection and cinches in at his waist to show how well-built he is. The man’s tall, a few inches above six feet, and with his dark hair, blue eyes, and that come-and-get-me grin, he’s a fantasy come to life... for most women. It’s a good thing I’m not most women.
I continuously tell myself this if I intend to spend more time with the man. It hasn’t been easy to string him along as long as I have, and I’ve been doing it from a distance for days. Now, we’re getting up close and personal again. I have to remind myself he’s a cold, ruthless businessman who doesn’t care how many people he ruins on his mission to become the best of the best.
I square my shoulders, and my small amount of guilt flees. I’m going through with this. After all, men like Tyler never feel pain. If the pain I’m able to inflict is minuscule, I hope to do some damage to his monumental ego. Even a dent will be worth the effort.
All of the Astor brothers live by their own rules and take whatever they want whenever they want it. They take and take until there’s nothing left to take, then they walk away without looking back. I’m not a fool. I don’t believe anything I do will make a huge impact on this man. But if I get a hint of revenge, I can sleep knowing I’ve done something for the used women of the world.
Tyler spins toward me when I’m a few feet away, and the power of his look makes me stop in my tracks. My stomach tightens as we engage in a stare-off until he’s within two inches of me.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” he says, his voice a low rumble that makes my body react in a way I absolutely don’t want it to.
“I wasn’t sure I’d come.”
“Shall we?” He holds out his arm. I don’t move.
He raises an eyebrow in question, and I take a fortifying breath before placing my arm in his. Though I’m expecting the electrical shock, it still sucks out my last remaining oxygen. He stops and my breathing quickens.
He backs me up against the brick wall and presses his body against mine. His head descends, and his lips are on mine. I tell myself not to give in to him, but my body betrays me. I grip his arms and my lips fall open.
What starts as tingling flares into a supernova, and I forget all about revenge, all about making this man sweat.He’s the one makingmesweat, making me forget where I am — who I am.
“That’s just a taste of what it will be like between us,” Tyler says.
It takes a moment for me to realize he stopped kissing me. I open my eyes and try to focus on his face. When I do, my temper quenches the fire burning inside me. His smug expression tells me more about the man than his words can. He knows he’s gorgeous, knows he’s a fantastic lover, knows he can get or have anything he wants. Well, he won’t have me — at least not again. But he sure as hell will want me.
I move away from him and open the door to the restaurant. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of acting like the gentleman he’spretendingto be. The ambience of the restaurant is warm and inviting, with candles offering soft lighting and the tables charmingly set.
We’re escorted to an elevated table with an excellent view of the stage, and soon our waiter brings appetizers and drinks. The food placed before us — oysters, pasta, breads, and cheeses — is too much for anyone to consume, except maybe a football player. Of course when you never go without, the thought of wasting food doesn’t cross your mind. Tyler doesn’t have a problem wasting food while others go hungry.
When the jazz band begins and the soft music drifts around us, I know why Tyler chose this restaurant. The entire scene is foreplay, a place to prepare a date for a romantic night with sex all around. Romantic? I’m old-fashioned enough to believe romance isn’t quite so calculating or cold. He’s good, very good. Smooth. But he can’t fool me so easily again — I won’t let him snare me with the moves he used before.
“I can’t figure you out, Olivia. One minute you laugh with me, flirt, open up. The next, you’re ducking your head, apparently thinking up a storm, but showing nothing of what those thoughts are. What are you up to?”
Tyler picks up his wineglass and takes a sip. I shift in my seat. If he’s this observant already, I’ll never pull this off. I take a drink of wine before carefully choosing a response.
“I don’t date a whole lot,” I admit. “To tell you the truth, it scares me. I’m sorry if it appears I’m not interested.” I hope my reply will throw him off the scent.
“I have no doubt you’re interested,” he says, making me want to smack him. “I can also see that you aren’t too happy about feeling this way.”
