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“You’d like to be discreet?”
I have to be discreet. I don’t even know what this is. A hate fuck turned into a dinner date? There’s no telling what I might want to keep hidden later.
“Yes,” I answer. “Please. It would make me feel better.”
He seems to consider it, searching my expression as we sit in the back of the parked car. “Would you like to see me again after tonight?”
There’s a pressure in my chest, like a balloon getting filled up with helium. It reminds me of the excitement I felt when I was young and dumb and dating. Before I got married and everything went to shit. There was a period in my life when it seemed like anything could happen. That woman would revel in this moment. But that woman got her heart ripped out long ago. She’s long dead and buried.
“It depends,” I finally make myself say. “On how our discreet dinner goes.”
Adrian smirks, charming and seductive, making him all the more handsome. It sends a shiver of desire down my spine. I already want him again. Even at this point there’s so much heat between us and it seems impossible to turn it down. Above all, I want to see him smile at me with approval. I’ve never been a people pleaser. I’ve always been about making change, and change is often uncomfortable for others. Part of me still wants topleasehim.I want to hear him call me his good girl again.
“So you’ll come to dinner with me and then decide? That’s a fair deal.”
* * *
Adrian staresat me across the table of our rather private curved booth. His gaze is fire; everything about him is possessive, but in a manner that’s effortless. Every little thing, including the way his touch never left me when he escorted me into the Waldorf, is dominating yet in a way that’s gentle. I could have walked faster or simply pulled away from him, but there was never a moment where I considered such a betrayal. Both to what he obviously desires, as well as my own.
Tucked away in the corner of the restaurant, with fine leather upholstery covering the padded wooden frame, it’s easy enough to peek out at the other guests, although they feel miles away. It feels like they’re all staring at us, though they’re not. I shift in my seat. If they’re looking over here, they’ll notice I’m underdressed.
“I love seeing you squirm,” says Adrian in a low voice.
“About the meeting today …” I begin.
“We’re off the clock,” he says simply, ending the conversation without breaking my gaze.
I bite my lip and try to keep from bringing up work again. It would be so easy to fall into that.
The tension is still there, and I do my best to not so nervously lay the napkin across my lap as the waiter presents the menu to us.
I let the menu fall as Adrian orders for me. He’s quick and confident, as if we already know each other.
“Would that be all right?” he asks and inclines his head toward me before the waiter can leave. Nodding, I give my seal of approval.
I wait until the waiter has stepped out of earshot before I speak to him. “You’re lucky you chose what you did.”
“I guessed right? Or are you just saying that?” His eyes on mine seem to see right through my dress, as if he’s remembering earlier at the office.
“You did guess right.” My fingers slip along the stem of my water goblet.
“If it’s not to your liking, I’ll have them bring you something else,” he says, and I feel myself blushing with a sudden shyness I haven’t felt in years. Not since I was a girl. There’s no place for shyness in a business career like mine. Adrian puts a hand to my face and runs his thumb over my cheek.
“You get to me, Adrian.”
“That seems fair, since you get to me as well.” Butterflies stir and I can’t help it. “Are you always like this?” I question but all I’m rewarded with is a charming, knowing smirk before we’re interrupted.
The waiter reappears, and there’s distance between us again. In his starched black uniform, the waiter sets out a wineglass. Then he shows Adrian the bottle, and at Adrian’s nod he opens it and pours a sip or two. Adrian tastes it. The waiter watches him the same way I’m watching him. Probably too closely. He lets the wine linger on his tongue before swallowing it and giving the waiter a nod.
He fills my glass and places it in front of me, murmuring his replies to our thank-yous, and Adrian curls his fist around his own glass. Whiskey, on the rocks.
I watch him take the first sip and notice the way his shoulders relax.
“Is this how you are with all your employees?” I ask.
Adrian raises an eyebrow. “I haven’t slept with an employee ever, actually.”
“Why do I find that hard to believe?” I arch an eyebrow, leaning in, trying to flirt with him.
