Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
After walking a few blocks, I arrived at the restaurant. It was a French bistro with a European menu. It was the kind of place I would love to go to, but it simply didn’t work with my budget. That was my problem for the evening. I wanted to pay for my meal, but frankly, I couldn’t afford it.
How pathetic was that?
If I spent my last twenty bucks, I wouldn’t have a penny until I got paid on Monday. My card would probably get rejected anyway, and that would be even more embarrassing. So hopefully, he would offer to pay and save me the humiliation.
I didn’t see him in the lobby so I stepped up to the podium. “I’m meeting Slate Remington—”
“Yes, this way.” She stepped around the podium then walked with me through the restaurant. The floor was made of gold tile, the tables were black, and a grand piano was in the center of the room, where a woman played serene music. The hostess took me to a different section of the restaurant, a quieter place where the tables were spread out much farther. It seemed to be a VIP section where the rich and famous could let their hair down.
When I rounded the corner, I saw him sitting in a private booth against the wall. He’d ditched his suit and wore a black t-shirt with dark jeans. The dress code requested something dressier, but he clearly didn’t think that applied to him.
He lifted his gaze to look at me, and those chocolate-colored eyes looked deep into my soul. He didn’t smile politely or rise to greet me. Stone-cold and hostile, he stared at me like he wished he were somewhere else.
This should be fun.
I slid into the booth across from him, crossed my legs, and pretended I wasn’t intimidated by him. I should have known it wouldn’t be so easy as sleeping with a beautiful man and getting paid for it. I should have known there would be a catch, a contingency.
And that contingency was that he was an asshole.
He already had a drink on the table, rum and Coke. He stared at me without making conversation, like the never-ending silence didn’t bother him at all. He was so confident that the most awkward situation in the world wouldn’t unnerve him.
It unnerved me, but I refused to show it. “So you’re this unpleasant all the time? Whether you’re in your office or not?” I wanted this man to sleep with me, so being a smartass was probably stupid, but I couldn’t change my personality. Maybe I wanted the money, but he was also getting something valuable in return.
“Always.” He grabbed his glass and took a long drink.
“That’s great…” I looked at the menu and didn’t struggle to find something I wanted. After all, I was starving, and the cramping of my stomach constantly reminded me of that. I decided on the steak, something that would last me a few days.
When the waitress arrived, Slate ordered for me. “She’ll have a rum and Coke as well.” He turned to me. “Are you ready to order?”
“Do I get a choice?” I snapped, not caring that the waitress witnessed the exchange. “Actually, I’ll have a glass of red wine. It’ll go well with the steak—medium rare.” I handed over my menu.
Slate handed his over as well. “I’ll have the same—minus the wine.”
She walked away and left us alone.
He leaned back and gently drummed his fingers on the table.
“So…you invite me to dinner but don’t engage in conversation?”
“The purpose of dinner is to see if there’s chemistry. And I don’t need to talk to you to figure that out.” He drank from his glass again.
“And have you figured it out?”
“I think so.”
I waited for an answer.
He clearly had no intention of giving it to me. “How old are you?”
“You never ask a woman that question.”
“I’m asking it anyway.” His muscular arms stretched the sleeves of his t-shirt. Every group of muscle was distinct and separate, the cords running all the way down to his hands. His skin was tanned, like he spent time outside, probably on a yacht or something. Last time I saw him, he had a bit of a beard, but he must have shaved before our date.
“Twenty-three.”
His brown eyes slightly narrowed. “That’s a little old to be a virgin.”
“Are you suggesting I’m lying?”
“No. I’ll know if you’re lying soon enough.” He brought the glass to his lips and took another drink, downing the contents like water rather than hard alcohol. “I fucked a girl for the first time when I was fifteen—that’s almost a decade before you.”
“It’s not a race.”
“But I’m curious why you’ve been waiting so long. It’s something you should enjoy as much as you can.”
“It just didn’t work out.”
“Work out?” he asked. “You’re a gorgeous woman. You could have made it work out any night of the week. So why didn’t you?”