“Tell me,” I say, sitting down next to her on the end of the bed.
“Some of the guys I’ve been with have certain expectations when they spend money on me.” Oh. Gotcha. I need her to stop that train because it’s not going anywhere.
“Saige. This isn’t that. I’m not like that. I would never expect anything from you in exchange for a gift. Then it’s not a gift. If you want me to take you home right now, I’ll do it. If you want me to leave, I’ll do it. Whatever you want to do. If you want to order room service and eat it naked, I’ll definitely do that.” I try to lighten the mood a little and it works.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have thought you’d do that. I know you wouldn’t.” She shakes herself a little and then touches my bare shoulder. Water from the shower drips down my skin. I haven’t had a chance to dry off yet.
“I’d love to go out. And I love the dress. Whoever picked it has good taste.” I take her hand from my shoulder and kiss the back of it. It’s a silly gesture and I don’t know why I did it.
“Good. I was hoping you would. I had to guess on the sizing.” Actually, Track guessed, based on pictures. His fashionable side comes in handy more often than not.
“You guessed right.” She lets out a breath that’s a cousin to a sigh and starts running the brush through her hair again.
“I’ll leave you to get ready. I’m going to shave and get dressed.” My five o’clock shadow is coming in. I stand to go back into the bathroom, but she grabs my arm.
“Don’t shave.”
“Don’t shave?” I repeat.
She stands and runs her palm across my cheek.
“Don’t shave.” I seize her wrist and lick her palm.
“Okay.”
I don’t have much to do in the bathroom, but I wait for a while. I like the idea of coming out and finding her all done up. Like a before and after picture.
“Are you decent?” I ask through a crack in the door as I slowly open it.
“That depends on what you think is decent,” she calls back. “But you can come out if you want.” I push the door open and am struck dumb by her.
Glossy straight hair, sparkly dress and heels that make her legs look like they go on for days, even though she’s not that tall. She looks at me over her shoulder and grins.
“You like?”
“Very, very much,” I say.
“And I must say that you look very handsome,” she says, coming to stroke my unshaved face. “I like this look on you. Maybe you should grow a beard.” I have before, but not for a while.
“Maybe,” I say. A beard doesn’t really work with my Quinn Brand persona. A beard is more of a Sylas thing.
I can’t take my eyes off her glossy red lips. I’d love to get that lipstick all over me and I have to stop myself from imagining her mouth wrapped around my cock. If I think about that, then we’re never getting out of here.
“Ready?” I ask, hoping my voice sounds even.
“Yes, sir,” she says, taking my arm.
Saige’s heels make a clicking sound on the marble of the foyer of the hotel. Tonight I’ve done something out of the ordinary and hired a car. It’s not something I usually do, but it felt right.
“So this means we can fool around in the backseat and don’t have to worry about crashing?” she says in my ear as the driver holds the door open for us.
I squeeze her hand.
“Only if you don’t mind ruining your makeup and walking around with just-fucked hair.” There’s no way to be gentle with Saige. To fuck her with decorum. The minute I touch her, I want to tear her apart and bury myself inside her.
She sighs unhappily.
“You’re right. But maybe on the way back.” Definitely on the way back.
She winks at me before sliding into the backseat. I get in after her and the driver shuts the door. He already has our destination, so this is going to be a surprise for Saige.
“Where are we going?” she says, looking out the tinted windows.
“You’ll see,” I say, taking her hand. I just need to touch her.
In my mind, I know I’m getting in too deep with this girl. I should pull back, but if I do, then I might lose all the ground I’ve gained and I can’t do that. Saige is a mark. I stare at her and tell myself she’s a job. Just a job.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
She looks back at me.
“Nothing. Just that I’m so lucky that you and I walked into the same coffee shop. Do you ever think about that? How bizarre it is to meet someone like that? If you went to a different place, or lived in a different city, we never would have met.”
Yes. I do think about little coincidences. My parents met because of coincidences and that meeting shaped the rest of my life, Lizzy’s life, and caused my mother’s death.
“Do you believe in fate?” she says, her green eyes intense as they look into mine.
“Yes,” I lie with a smile.
“It used to be a speakeasy,” I say as I help her out of the car twenty minutes later. The entrance to the restaurant is nothing special. Just the entrance to a brownstone in what seems like a residential neighborhood.
“You’re kidding,” she says as we walk up the steps and I knock on the door.
“Nope.” The door opens a crack and a man asks if we have a reservation.
“Brand, two,” I say and the door opens. I hear Saige draw in a startled breath. The space is cramped and narrow. And dark. Lit only by red bulbs hanging from the ceiling.
“Follow me,” the host says, leading us across creaking wood floors. The sound is muffled and I wonder if they added the extra soundproofing, or if that was part of the original construction.
At the end of the hall is another door and the host opens it with a metal key. The whole atmosphere is secretive and intoxicating.
Once the door opens, the sound hits us full force and it’s like stepping into another world.
“Wow,” Saige breathes beside me.
The place is impressive. Done in rich reds and burgundies with lots of brick and leather, the place feels old. The bar is made from old barrels, probably handmade.
Scratchy music pipes through speakers, purposefully distorted to add to the ambience.
The host leads us toward the back, to a corner with two worn leather chairs and a small table that is also mounted on a barrel. The lights are dim back here and I watch Saige’s face as she looks around.
“This is extraordinary,” she says, beaming at me. “Well done, you.”
“Thank you,” I say as the host brings us water and hands over a dinner and drink menu.
“Would you like to know our specials?” We both nod and he lists them off from memory, adding which are his favorites.
“Everything sounds so good,” Saige says, looking at me. I agree. I’d love to order the entire menu, including the drinks.
“I’ll give you a few minutes,” he says and leaves us.
Oh my God, Saige mouths at me. “This place is seriously cool.”
“I thought you might like it.” I knew with her affinity for art, Saige would appreciate the history behind the place, which is printed on the back of the menu.
“It feels like stepping through time,” Saige says as Louis Armstrong pipes through hidden speakers. “Thank you for bringing me here. I never would have known about this place if it wasn’t for you.” She reaches across the table and I give her my hand. This time she kisses the back of it and my skin tingles from the contact. There’s much too much table between us. I’d be content for her to sit on my lap, but that might look a little weird.
“You’re very extremely welcome,” I say. “So, what are you going to get?”
“Well, I’m definitely starting with the Mary Pickford.” I look over the drinks and choose a Sidecar. We discuss appetizers and decide on lobster canapés. Our waiter comes to take our drink orders and we also order our appetizer and meals.