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“So you’ll come to dinner with me and then decide? That’s a fair deal.”
Adrian staresat me across the table of our rather private curved booth. His gaze is fire; everything about him is possessive, but in a manner that’s effortless. Every little thing, including the way his touch never left me when he escorted me into the Waldorf, is dominating yet in a way that’s gentle. I could have walked faster or simply pulled away from him, but there was never a moment where I considered such a betrayal. Both to what he obviously desires, as well as my own.
Tucked away in the corner of the restaurant, with fine leather upholstery covering the padded wooden frame, it’s easy enough to peek out at the other guests, although they feel miles away. It feels like they’re all staring at us, though they’re not. I shift in my seat. If they’re looking over here, they’ll notice I’m underdressed.
“I love seeing you squirm,” says Adrian in a low voice.
“About the meeting today …” I begin.
“We’re off the clock,” he says simply, ending the conversation without breaking my gaze.
I bite my lip and try to keep from bringing up work again. It would be so easy to fall into that.
The tension is still there, and I do my best to not so nervously lay the napkin across my lap as the waiter presents the menu to us.
I let the menu fall as Adrian orders for me. He’s quick and confident, as if we already know each other.
“Would that be all right?” he asks and inclines his head toward me before the waiter can leave. Nodding, I give my seal of approval.
I wait until the waiter has stepped out of earshot before I speak to him. “You’re lucky you chose what you did.”
“I guessed right? Or are you just saying that?” His eyes on mine seem to see right through my dress, as if he’s remembering earlier at the office.
“You did guess right.” My fingers slip along the stem of my water goblet.
“If it’s not to your liking, I’ll have them bring you something else,” he says, and I feel myself blushing with a sudden shyness I haven’t felt in years. Not since I was a girl. There’s no place for shyness in a business career like mine. Adrian puts a hand to my face and runs his thumb over my cheek.
“You get to me, Adrian.”
“That seems fair, since you get to me as well.” Butterflies stir and I can’t help it. “Are you always like this?” I question but all I’m rewarded with is a charming, knowing smirk before we’re interrupted.
The waiter reappears, and there’s distance between us again. In his starched black uniform, the waiter sets out a wineglass. Then he shows Adrian the bottle, and at Adrian’s nod he opens it and pours a sip or two. Adrian tastes it. The waiter watches him the same way I’m watching him. Probably too closely. He lets the wine linger on his tongue before swallowing it and giving the waiter a nod.
He fills my glass and places it in front of me, murmuring his replies to our thank-yous, and Adrian curls his fist around his own glass. Whiskey, on the rocks.
I watch him take the first sip and notice the way his shoulders relax.
“Is this how you are with all your employees?” I ask.
Adrian raises an eyebrow. “I haven’t slept with an employee ever, actually.”
“Why do I find that hard to believe?” I arch an eyebrow, leaning in, trying to flirt with him.
He answers me in an utterly serious tone. “Because you don’t trust me and seem to hold a rather low opinion of me.”
I jerk back a few inches, shock settling in. Is he really offended by this? We just had sex on his desk, in his office, at work. The only boundary was that it was slightly after 6:00 p.m. “I didn’t mean to imply that I think poorly of you. And for the record, it’s because you exude sex appeal so I imagine you could sleep with anyone you wanted.”
Adrian chuckles, his rough short laugh a baritone rumble in his chest, and it breaks up the tension. “You do seem very hesitant around me. Is there something I can do to ease that?” His words fall slowly, drifting to the pressed and starched linen tablecloth as his eyes drop to my breasts. “To break the ice, perhaps?”
“You have a reputation, Adrian.”
“Everyone does, Suzette. It doesn’t mean that’s who we are. One person could tell you I’m loyal to a fault, another that I’m a miserable asshole. Both could very well be honest impressions of me. So, believe them both.”
Before I can even respond, we’re interrupted yet again.
“Excuse me, sir.” The waiter steps to the side of the table and passes a folded note to Adrian.
With Adrian’s nod we’re alone again, although I might as well not exist.