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“Cucumber, blackberry, acai berry, Kombucha, and Seven-Up.” Greg smiled at her as he saw me walk in with a throng of paps behind me.
“I like it.” She took another sip.
I rolled right up on Kylie and kissed her neck with cameras poppin’ all around us. She flinched at my kiss as I knew she would, so I secured my arm around her stomach to steady her.
“Sorry to scare you, babe.” I kissed her again. “I came as soon as I heard the St. Marks Brewery was going to make a donation.” I made sure to say it loud enough for the people at the bar and the paparazzi to hear it.
She tensed under my grip. She knew exactly what I’d done. There was no way I was going to be able to get her to listen to reason, so I had to resort to more devious means.
She took a deep breath and turned to me, all dressed up in a plastic smile. “Isn’t it amazing?”
My fingers caught her chin before she could wrench away, and I planted a deep and romantic kiss on her lips.
I made sure our kiss was epic enough to get everyone at the bar riled up about it. I looked at all of those gawking at us and threw my head back, tossing my hair in a sweeping move that expressed a frantic kind of euphoria.
“Damn, I love this woman!” I smiled and shouted to the thirty or so people surrounding us. “Drinks on the house …” I grabbed the mocktail she was drinking and downed it in front of everyone then raised my empty glass. “To Kylie Morgan!” I shouted, and everyone cheered. “Put a round of drinks for everyone on my tab,” I commanded Greg as I pulled Kylie and her chair away from the bar. “Come on sweetheart, we have dinner reservations.”
Kylie smiled again as I escorted her out of the bar with my arm wrapped around her waist. She was such a professional; her demeanor was flawless. She flirted and smiled, waving back to those who had waved at her, acting giddy and happy even as I helped her into the limo. She wore a bright and bouncy blouse and an old pair of jeans. She could have been wearing a panda onesie; I wouldn’t have cared. Nothing was going to derail my night, especially not her.
As soon as the door to the limo closed, she tore into me as I expected she would. I was only happy the privacy screen between us and the driver was raised.
“What the hell are you doing?” She scowled at me.
“I’m kidnapping you.” I smiled kindly. “You’re welcome to press charges, but I’m not letting you go until we’ve talked this through.” She huffed and looked out the window, holding onto her emotions. “You are not running out on me again.”
“Are we really going to dinner?” Her voice was rough and cold.
“Yes. This entire evening will be happening in front of them.” I motioned to the paparazzi that tailed us.
“Why?” I could see she was fighting back tears.
“Because you’re worth my time and my money. You are, whether we planned it or not, the mother of my child. I don’t need a DNA test to know that. I could tell the night we slept together it had been a while for you. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring us, but right now, today, this is where we are.”
“I have no say in this?” She turned to me as her face reddened. “I’m just going to be your prisoner?”
“Do you hate me?” I didn’t want to ask the question, but we had to launch off from somewhere.
She shook her head, unable to say the words.
“Great. So, we will do this for our child. I’ll claim the child publicly and financially. I will need a DNA test at some point, but not for me, for inheritance purposes. My accountant will want a birth certificate, DNA test, other things, but again, it is so you and the baby will have financial security.” I had figured this all out.
“What if I want to do this on my own?” She was gathering up the pieces of her strength.
“You probably will be doing this alone if you and I don’t work out. I can be quite a bastard.”
“You think?” She interrupted me.
Her eyes locked onto mine.
“Don’t kill this before I do.” I opened up a vein for a moment and showed her my true vulnerability. “I’m scared too.” Her beautiful big eyes drank me in. “But we can do this.” The car had stopped in front of Lucuqes, the trendiest and most expensive restaurant in Manhattan.
“I’m not dressed for Lucques.” She panicked as she looked down at her casual attire.
“You don’t have to be.” I winked at her as I got out of the car to open her door.
