Chapter 15
Alex
My ass doesn’t hit the stool of the poker table before I’m ushered to the back by the handsome owner. His large palm sits on the small of my back, sending goosebumps over my skin.
“What’s this? I thought the tradition was: I clean you out first, then we have sex,” I say after he presses his finger to the lock for the back-rooms of the casino.
His head turns towards me, a devastating smirk playing on his lips. “Change of plans.”
His hotness stuns me, like it always does, so it takes me a second to realize that his hair is a mess and the bags under his eyes are darker. “Rough day?”
“Actually, it was pretty good.” He shoots me a smile, but I see the worry etched into the lines of his face.
“Huh.” We pass his office and head to something that looks like an elevator. “So what is the plan for tonight? You’re going to take me into your basement and murder me?” I ask jokingly, gesturing my head at the elevator.
“Nope. I’m just taking you to my place. Thought you’d appreciate a change of scenery.”
Typically, this would trigger my anxiety, but I like his place and I love his dog.
So I simply nod and let him lead me to what I presume is the garage.
It hosts an array of luxury sports cars, from a Lamborghini to a sports car whose logo I don’t recognize, but there is a G-Wagon waiting for us, already running, with a driver inside.
He opens the door for me and helps me inside, his hand brushing over my ass in the process.
He sits right next to me, with his palm splayed over my thigh.
We ride in silence to his building, where he thanks the driver before helping me out.
The elevator is as lavish as I remember, and soon; we find ourselves in front of the door to his apartment.
He lets us inside, stepping in front of me in a shielding manner. I hear the pitter-patter of paws on his hardwood floors. Pleading wails follow behind, and I let out a chuckle. “Is this who you’re shielding me from?”
I squat down to cuddle the Rottweiler. Once again, he stares at me with suspicion. “Do you have jerky in your purse? Is that what this is?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask using a baby voice reserved for dogs.
“I’m trying to figure out why Persephone, who hates everyone, seems to be obsessed with you?”
“Oh, that’s easy. She’s just a smart dog. Aren’t you, Persephone?”
Leon scoffs.
There’s something special about being chosen by a dog. Especially a dog that, if Leon’s words are right, doesn’t like anybody. So, I give her extra pets because she deserves them. A cough sounds out, making me glance up.
There’s a man in Leon’s kitchen, wearing full chef attire, as well as a man who is obviously a server. “Good evening,” they tell us, almost in unison.
“Wh-…” I start to say, but Leon interrupts me.
“Alex, meet Pepe and Gigi. They will serve our dinner tonight.”
The man he introduced as Pepe is obviously Pepe Matano, one of the best up-and-coming chefs in the country. I swallow before responding, “Good evening.”
Leon links his elbow with mine and leads me through the open space to the balcony. My breath hitches in my throat, noticing the meticulously served table for two, decorated with a gorgeous bouquet and lit candles.
“It isn’t the restaurant you mentioned the other day, but I hope you like it.”
“This is beautiful,” I rasp as my eyes turn hazy.
“I’m sorry if this is too much. I should have asked.”
“No… no. It’s perfect.” I huff a laugh, turning my gaze to him. “I’m just not used to it.”
“To private dinners?”
“Well, that too. But I mean I’m not used to surprises like this. Or any pleasant surprises, for that matter.”
His eyes darken. “It only means that the men you’ve been with were losers.”
“I guess so.” Losers is putting it mildly. I would kill to have dated a loser. It would cause me much less pain than dating a psychopath.
Leon pulls out a chair for me, and I take a seat. “Do you mind?” he asks, peeling my jacket off, but I stop him.
“I’ll keep it for a while.” The night would be freezing, if not for the fire burning in the firepit and a heater facing our table. Still, I leave my jacket on until I acclimatize.
The night is gorgeous. There’s not a cloud in the sky, and his balcony is high enough to have stunning views of the city’s skyline.
Before I can comment on it, the server brings us the first course, along with the wine he pours us. It’s a plate of prosciutto and cheese, with breadsticks.
“So, is this a date?” I wrap a slice of prosciutto around the breadstick and take a bite.
“I guess so, yeah.” He swishes the wine in his glass, looking at me intently.
“We should do date things, then. Like asking each other questions.” I half-joke. This being a date should bring me discomfort, but I want to learn more about him.
“Why, of course. Tell me about your family.”
I walked right into that one. “Oh, we’re not close.
Just one cousin, but she’s also my best friend.
Kind of two for one?” He raises his eyebrows, so I continue, “My dad died when I was little… Cancer. I’ve been no contact with my mom ever since her boyfriend made a move on me when I was nineteen and she blamed me for it.
” The word salad spills out of me before I can stop it.
I haven’t shared that much about myself in years.
Nerves constrict my throat as I await his reaction.
I shove the rest of the prosciutto into my mouth to stop myself from saying more.
His fingers wrap tightly around the stem of his wineglass, hard enough I’m afraid he’ll snap it. “Are they still together?” he grits out.
“Probably,” I shrug, washing the food down with some wine. “Like I said, we don’t keep in touch. You?”
His glass is hallway up to his mouth when surprise crosses his face. Did he expect I wouldn’t be asking him the same thing? He takes his time before answering, “My parents are both dead.” My breath catches. “I have a brother, though.”
“I’m so sorry to hear about your parents. Was it recent?”
“My father’s death was recent, yes. My mother died a long time ago.”
“Are you close to your brother?”
“Yes.” He mulls over his words, as if contemplating what to share. “We’re currently in a fight, but I’d say we’re pretty close.” Every word he says is carefully picked.
It’s obvious there’s more to the story, more lying underneath, but talking about our pasts is hardly a game I’d like to play. So I choose the safe route. “Is he older or younger than you?”
“He’s three years younger,” he says with a certain older sibling smugness.
“It was a pointless question, to be honest,” I tease.
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
“You have ‘older brother’ written all over you.”
His eyes widen.
I circle a finger in his face. “You’re fiercely protective, super tidy, and you have control issues.”
His tongue darts out. “Do I?”
“Yes. Massive control issues.” I emphasize the word massive, making him smirk. “You know, the best poker players out there aren’t reading the cards; they’re reading people.”
“Oh, I know. I noticed it the first night we met.”
“I hardly belong in that category.”
“My control issues and I respectfully disagree.” The server takes our empty plates away, bringing the next course.
“This is fresh herb and beef orecchiette. Enjoy,” he tells us before leaving the balcony.
I pick my fork up, but Leon clears his throat, so I glance back at him.
“As I was saying… I think you’re grossly underselling your skills.
I may not be a generational poker talent, but I own eight casinos, so I’m pretty good at spotting one.
” He lets the rest hang in the air, and a knot forms in my throat.
I swallow it down, along with any emotion building inside of me. “It’s just a silly thing I do,” I lie through my teeth, but support isn’t something I’m used to.
Robbie hated my poker skills. He hated me being better at it than him. It crushed his stupid little man ego, and he’d make me pay for it. I can’t even remember the number of times I’ve had to let him win, even though I was sure I had the winning hand.
Leon plays against me night after night, apparently enjoying getting his ass kicked. The look he sports is adoration, not agitation. The thought starts a small spark in my belly, one that quickly spreads to heat my insides. Once again, I use wine to cool myself down.
The conversation, thankfully, turns playful for the rest of the meal. We finish all four courses, though my dress barely handles the dessert. The food was extraordinary, but I feel like I’m a minute away from bursting out of my outfit.
“Are you ready to go inside?” Leon asks me after the server takes our dessert plates away.
“Yeah. I was just getting cold.” The heater is amazing, but we were outside for a while. A blanket and Sophie’s couch sound amazing right now.
He shakes both men’s hands. “Thank you both for coming out on such short notice.”
“Everything was absolutely amazing. Thank you,” I say.
The men leave, leaving Leon and me alone in the apartment. “Can I top off your wine?” he asks, glancing at my glass.
“That’s okay. I should get going anyway.” He lowers an eyebrow. “If you wanted sex, you shouldn’t have fed me four courses of Italian food,” I awkwardly add.
A smirk plays on his lips again, and my heart leaps in my chest. “I wasn’t offering sex. Just a glass of wine. Maybe we could watch a movie or something.”
“Oh, a movie sounds good.” I guess I will curl up on the couch, just not Sophie’s.
He leads me to his living room, pressing a button that lights up half of the wall with the TV screen. Leon starts for his bedroom, and I sit down on the couch, my dress hitting my stomach in just the right spot to make it uncomfortable.
“Here,” Leon returns with a t-shirt. “You look stunning, but you can’t be comfortable in that.”
“Thank you.” I grab the shirt and make my way to the bathroom, one more knot clogging my throat.
Once again, I’m exposed to something new.
Robbie always wanted me put together. He’d shoot me small comments here and there, to let me know he doesn’t appreciate my natural state.
By the time I walked out on him, I would wait for him to fall asleep before taking my makeup off or letting my hair down.
Even my sleepwear was carefully chosen to show off my best features.
It had to be enough to pull attention away from my makeup-free face, or my overall disheveled look.
A relieved breath breaks free as I slip my dress off, pulling the soft white cotton over my head.
The shirt hits me mid-thigh, and it’s as soft as Leon’s millionaire sheets.
When I get back to the living room, Leon has changed, too.
Instead of a designer suit, he now sports gym shorts and a shirt just like mine.
He doesn’t notice me right away, so I watch him for a second, mesmerized.
Getting him out of his suits is always delectable, mostly because you get to stare at the tattooed, hard planes of his chest, his rippling abs or that mouthwatering V that leads to his perfect cock.
But this is something else. His hair is mussed and his features almost boyish as he clicks through the channels on his TV.
This domestic version of him feels more intimate than any time we had sex.
It’s as if he stripped away his mask of control, letting me peek behind the curtains.
My chest inflates as my heart starts to race.
It’s a heady, dangerous feeling. I should turn around and go home. Still, my feet carry me to the couch.
I guess watching a movie can’t hurt.