Page 32 of Ruining Hattie
“Thank you.” She bats her eyelashes, and I don’t think she does it on purpose, but it makes her look like a minx.
“You realize how hard it’s going to be to get through dinner with you looking like this and not spread you out on the table and eat you for dinner, don’t you? Or maybe that’s what you want.” I lean in and run my tongue up the column of her neck, and she shivers under my touch.
“Not at the restaurant, but after.”
I groan at the thought of her taste on my tongue again. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
I pull away and take her hand, leading her out of the condo. We make our way to the parking garage and my SL-Class Mercedes-Benz. I open the door for Hattie, and once she’s seated inside, I close the door and make my way around the front of the car.
“I’ll be a gentleman and keep the top up so the wind doesn’t ruin your hair.” I start the car and put on my seat belt before pulling out of the parking spot.
“This is so much nicer than my car back in Wisconsin.” Hattie laughs as she looks around the interior, almost in awe.
“Nothing but the best for you.” I pull out of the parking garage onto the street.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” she asks.
“It’s a surprise, but even if I told you, you probably wouldn’t know it. I’ll tell you this—the food is spectacular, and the view is great. It overlooks Lake Union.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve never been to a restaurant this fancy before. I’m afraid I’m going to mess up and make it obvious I don’t belong there.”
I glance at her when I stop at a traffic light, hating the expression of defeat on her face.
I remember the first time one of my marks took me to a fancy restaurant.
The pressure, the eyes I felt, the judgment as if they could see who I really was underneath the expensive suit.
It took me a while to not feel that way, and I would never want anyone else to feel the same.
“Hattie, you belong there as much as anyone else. All you have to do is eat and relax, okay?” My hand drifts through the slit of the dress on her left thigh, touching her soft, silky skin. Fuck, I hope I can control myself tonight.
She nods and bites her lip. “Okay.”
I run my hand up and down her thigh, and the tension builds between us. The temptation to inch my fingers closer to her pussy is so great, I’m not sure I trust myself.
There’s a honk behind us, and when I look forward, I see that the light has changed. I retract my hand and put it on the steering wheel for the rest of the ride.
When we arrive, we’re taken right to our table.
Usually this place requires reservations at least a month in advance, but the owner used to frequent my club until he got married, so I called him up, and he made it happen for me.
He’s obviously given us the best view in the house.
The sun is still up, but by the time we leave here, it will have set, making for a glittering view of the city and boats below.
“I’m Fredrick, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?” He looks at me.
I motion for Hattie to answer. I’m curious to see if she’ll choose alcohol tonight or if it was a one-time thing. She looks between the waiter and me, a deer in headlights, so I save her.
“I think we’ll share a bottle of wine.” I take a quick glance down the wine list, make my choice, and the waiter leaves.
Hattie cringes. “Thank you. I wanted wine, but I didn’t know what to order.”
“It’s not a big deal. I only deferred to you because I wasn’t sure whether you’d want alcohol or not. I know you said you’d never really drank before the evening you were out with Renee and Paige.”
“I wasn’t sure either, but this place is so beautiful, it seems like the kind of place where you drink wine with your meal, you know?”
I chuckle and nod. “I do, yes.” I remember the first time a woman asked me to pick the bottle and the cool sweat that beaded along the back of my neck.
“Don’t worry. I won’t get tipsy and embarrass you. I’ll make sure I don’t drink too much.”
“You could never embarrass me. Hattie, I thought I made it clear by now that you don’t have to act a certain way around me. Just be yourself.”
She sighs. “I know, it’s just a hard concept to get used to. It’s something I’ve done my whole life.”
“Were you that terrified that your parents wouldn’t love you if you didn’t act a certain way?”
She shakes her head before I’ve even finished asking the question. “My parents are amazing, and I know they’d love me no matter what I ever did. I just hate the idea of disappointing them.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about me judging you, Hattie. More than anything, I want you to figure out who you are. The only way you’re going to do that is to try out different things and see how they suit you.”
“You say that now, but if you’re carrying me out of here over your shoulder, you won’t be thinking that.”
I laugh again. “Fair enough.”
Every day that she lives with me, Hattie emerges a little more out of her shell. I almost hate myself for the corruption because it really is an admirable thing to see someone trying to take a hold of her life and find herself.
The waiter returns with our wine, and we go through the motions of me approving the wine before he pours us each a glass and leaves the rest of the bottle in the ice bucket beside the table.
“Shall we do a toast?” I raise my glass, and Hattie follows suit. “To new horizons and bold steps forward. Here’s to you discovering the truth of who you really are.”
Hattie smiles and clinks her glass with mine, and we each take a sip.
“The waiter didn’t ask for our order,” she says.
“We’re on the prix fixe menu, so they’ll serve us seven different courses.”
She leans forward and whispers, “What if I don’t like what they serve us?”
I do the same. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it.”
“Then I’ll feel bad.” She frowns.
I can’t help but chuckle. “Hattie, you need to stop feeling bad about everything. Just own your feelings. It’s okay not to be agreeable all the time.”
Hattie groans. “I know, I know, you’re right.” She reaches for her wineglass. “In the spirit of everything you just said, there’s been something I want to ask you, but I thought I might be overstepping.”
I motion across the table to her. “Go ahead. I’m an open book.”
“Are you close with your parents? Sometimes when I talk about mine, I get this feeling it makes you unhappy to hear about them. I thought maybe that was because you don’t get along with yours.”
Fucking hell, maybe I’m making her too comfortable in my presence.