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FOUR
Mel
“You look good!”
Kalli gives my outfit a long look up and down when I open the door. All I feel is flustered. The tight black bodice that cinches up my small breasts is digging into my ribs and the high-heeled black boots feel foreign after years spent in flats. I used to wear heels. I don’t know who that person is anymore.
“Thanks.” I lead my sister down the corridor and wave my hand frantically in the general direction of the lounge room and the kids’ bedrooms. “They’re all tucked up and you shouldn’t hear a peep. But please, call if you need anything. Or they do. I really appreciate this.”
Kalli waves me off. “Stop it. You know I’m happy to babysit whenever.”
I run madly through the house, searching for my purse, aware I’m probably already late. I can’t be late. This is work.
“So do you have a date?” My little sister holds out my purse to me and once again, I feel like a failure. I accept it with a smile.
“Um... not really. I’m meeting someone?” It’s not a question. So why does it come out sounding so unsure? God, I need to get a grip. I’m going to walk into that restaurant and act like I’m in charge. No! I’m going tobein charge!
“OK, well have fun. And don’t rush back.”
I hug my sister and scoot out the door before she can ask any more questions. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her I’d actually signed up for Monstrous Deals. Not that I have any judgment of her and Rin. She met the most amazing guy through her escort work, and it turned out he wanted far more than a contract. These days, she’s living in billionaire bliss in the ritzy townhouse they share uptown and runs her own business out of the shopfront he bought her. So, yeah. No pressure on me or anything.
God, if tonight goes down without a hitch—if I get through it without him walking out as soon as he realizes I’m a fraud—I’ll be relieved.
I stand on the street opposite the restaurant for a full fifteen minutes just staring at it, unable to make my feet take another step. Rich, royal blue paint covers the elaborate facade. Curling iron lamps hang above ten thin windows, giving me a glimpse of a softly lit interior where candles glow on tables and well-dressed couples talk and eat.
I don’t belong here.
My ribs ache already from the tightly cinched corset, and my stomach rumbles. I’m used to eating dinner with my kids at five o’clock. In my purse, my phone buzzes.
Bullistic: When you get here, give the maitre’d your name. She’ll bring you to my private dining room. I’m sorry I can’t meet you in person. I’ll explain why when I see you. Looking forward to meeting you xx
Well, that’s a good reminder this is just a job. This guy is clearly too ashamed to be seen with me in public.
Straightening my back and lifting my chin, I march into the restaurant.
“Good evening, madame, do you have a reservation?” The maitre d’—what even is that? Is that a jumped up waitress?—greets me with a sniff of her thin nose and a raised eyebrow.
“Yes. Actually my friend is already waiting for me. He said you were expecting me.”
“Ah, Mel?”
I nod.
“Very well. Right this way, if you please.”
She leads me away from the double doors with square glass windows showing off a dining room full of patrons, and down a corridor to another door. This one has no windows, so I have to wait for her to hold it open for me before I can get my first glance at my client. When I do, I stumble a little in the heels I’m not used to and clutch the doorframe, though I manage to walk through as I take him in.
He’s broad. His shoulders are wide and strong, bulging against the fabric of the pale pink shirt he wears. His large hands are clasped on the table in front of him. Thick, masculine hands with immaculately trimmed fingernails and a gold ring that make me swallow down a sudden wave of desire.
