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“I’ll email you a list of restaurant suggestions. If you pick one, let me know and I can call them to get you on the list.”
“Oh. Thank you. I might stay in.”
If that’s what revs her engine, fine. I nod, my hand resting on the doorknob to my bedroom. “The doorman knows how to direct delivery people. Well, make yourself at home here. You have the run of the place. Except here.”
I offer a bland smile as I step into the bedroom.
“Oh, I wouldn’t -.”
Whatever she wouldn’t do is lost when I close the bedroom door on her. I assume she was about to say she wouldn’t come in here without my explicit permission. At least, that better have been what she was going to say.
Putting Anica Kasan out of my mind, I move through my bedroom to shower and get ready for my date. It’s too late to cancel after Uncle Bill’spronouncementtoday. Selecting a suit, I dress, grabbing a watch and fixing it as I leave the apartment. Anica isn’t around, nor can I hear any music or speaking. Perhaps she is on the phone in her bedroom.
Antonio is waiting when I step out of the building, nodding to him and sliding into the back of the car. I give him the name of the restaurant and pull up my emails as we pull into traffic.
FROM: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Town car
Mr. Brooks Westerhaven,
Thank you. I will be waiting in the lobby.
Anica Kasan
Smirking, I hit reply, changing the subject line to “RESTAURANTS,” and diligently type out a list of places she might like. She said she wanted to stay in, but I told her I would send her a list, and I’m a man of my word.
“We have arrived, sir,” Antonio addresses me through the rear-view mirror. I hit send on the email list of restaurants to Anica and pocket my phone, sliding out of the car as Antonio holds the door open.
As I step into the restaurant, my eyes land on the bar. That’s her. I cross to where Janelle is sliding off her bar stool, her eyes hooded like we’re already heading to bed. Fucking Uncle Bill. All I can see is long, smooth, tanned legs that go on for days, disappearing under the very short, very tight skirt of her dress. She’s almost my height in her towering heels, thin, glamorous, and looking like she’s stepped right off a runway.
“Hi,” she breathes, air kissing me. My eyes land on her very expensive cocktail and signal to the bartender for a whiskey. I would hazard a guess that her drink is going to appear on the check I’m presented with at the end of this meal.
“Hi, how was your day?”
“Busy. I had a photoshoot.”
I nod along to Janelle’s description of her lingerie shoot until the hostess approaches us, and Janelle falls silent.
“Mr. Brooks Westerhaven, your table is ready. Right this way.”
I gesture for Janelle to lead the way, my hand landing on her lower back as we follow the hostess under the magnificent chandelier and into the dining area. Janelle blinks up at me seductively from under her lashes, and I bite back a grin. I might not be able to bring her back to mine, but I think she would be amenable to taking me to hers. Maybe tonight will be a win after all.
The hostess stops at a table in the very center of the restaurant. I gallantly hold Janelle’s chair for her as she simpers and takes her seat, and nod to the hostess as she moves away.
“Your server will be with you shortly.”
I sit, getting comfortable in my chair as the conversation swells around us. I take a quick glance around and bite back a smile. On display, as always. Funny, I never noticed it until Anica pointed it out.
My date doesn’t appear to mind as much as Anica did. She’s busy preening, snapping a selfie or two and batting her eyelashes at me, answering every question I ask in a breathy voice calibrated just so to tease whoever she’s talking to.
She’s an aspiring actress, because of course she is, and also does some modeling work, because of course she does. The woman is gorgeous as hell and completely boring to talk to. We manage to get our way through most of the meal because I askher inane questions about acting and who she has met while auditioning.
Janelle can wax eloquent on the topics of acting, auditions, and herself. Ah, the things I must endure to get laid with an air of propriety. I’d pick up a woman in a bar, but unfortunately, all my dates have to be vetted. Uncle Bill’s orders. I managed to avoid having a bodyguard following me around constantly by agreeing to this. Also, Antonio has been vetted. The man was a Marine.
Uncle Bill is protected by the Rothwell Agency. They almost exclusively hire ex-military and mostly elite ex-military. I had one tagging along when I was at Northwestern, but I put my foot down when I came to New York. The compromise was my regular driver being vetted – and from a town car agency the Rothwell Agency suggested – and the Agency vets my dates.
