Chapter 5 #3
We’ll be by there later.
By now, there are at least ten cars and a tractor-trailer blocking her bodyguard from us.
Without slowing, I take the next turn, then the next, and soon, we're pulling into the private parking lot of Soirée.
I park in a secluded area, reserved for members only.
A uniformed valet parking attendant comes our way.
“Can I help you, sir?” he asks with a frown. He obviously doesn't appreciate my driving skills.
I try to gauge her reaction.
Does she know the Cowen family? I couldn’t hide my real identity from her for that long, anyway.
The entire plan is contingent on forming some sort of trust with her.
If my sources are correct, she's been kept ignorant to her father’s ways, and won't know who the Cowen family is.
The sooner she knows who I really am, the better.
Still, how she reacts in the next few minutes will be very telling, and will determine how I will proceed.
I nod. “Aye. Reservation made by Leith Cowen?”
The valet obviously knows the name, however, as he takes a quick step back and nods in deference. “Aye, sir, it would be an honor, sir.”
I watch Bryn. No reaction.
He looks at the McLaren. “Come in, sir, we’ll seat you right away.” Then his eyes go to Bryn, and I scowl at him. He looks quickly away.
I open the door, then walk around to Bryn’s side. She grins at me, taking the hand I offer her, and elegantly steps out of the car.
Jesus, those legs. Before the night is through, I’ll kiss my way up those legs until she purrs.
As the valet takes the car and she steps toward me, I lean in to whisper in her ear, “That was the most fun I've ever had at night, and the night has only just begun.
" I let my fingers linger on the back of her neck just a fraction of a second longer than before, but I release her and take her hand.
I drop my voice, commanding her. She’ll learn I do things on my terms. “You’ll hold my hand when we walk in. I want every fucking bloke to know who you’re with. Understand me?”
She gives me a saucy smile. “Sure.”
It’s time I put my theory to the test. We’re alone in the lot, right behind the restaurant. I stop short, pull her close to me, and hold her with my hand on the small of her back. With my free hand, I tip her chin up and hold her gaze.
“I’m serious, Bryn.”
Her lips part, and she nods. “Aye. Okay, then. So am I.”
I hold her chin, not letting her look away. “You like a little excitement. Danger. Don’t you?”
She nods again, but a bit hesitantly as if she’s afraid she’s made a mistake by admitting this. Will I take advantage of her?
I will so fucking take advantage.
“That’s perfect, then.” I run my fingertips gently down her spine. “Because I like control.”
I watch her chest heave when I put a little more pressure on her, watch how her pupils dilate.
“What kind of control?” she whispers.
I bring my mouth to her ear as we hear people approaching, laughter and the click of heels. “Everything.”
I release her and take her hand, strolling past the couple that walks next to us. Her hand is a little clammy. Nerves? Or something else?
A brisk wind kicks up, and I instinctively put my arm around her shoulders, shielding her from the cold as we head inside.
“Ooh,” she breathes, when I take her inside.
I don’t know if she’s tasted the finer side of things. Even growing up a rich girl, she’s been so sheltered.
“Have you ever been here before?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. Light strains of jazz play in the background.
Tonight’s the live music night, and I know she likes jazz.
The smell of roasted garlic and freshly-baked bread makes my stomach churn with hunger.
It’s dark and elegant, with fresh flowers and formal attire, and one wall made entirely of translucent wine bottles.
“They grow micro greens right on the premises, bake their own bread, and import their ingredients straight from Italy. But they’re mostly known for their seared, marinated steak and hand-rolled pasta.”
“Mmm,” she says, rubbing her belly. “Okay, so that shortbread cookie seems like it was ages ago.”
I’m finding myself more and more attracted to her with every minute that passes, but if I let myself go there, if I weaken myself for even a minute, my plans are fucked.
“Sir?” I blink at a beautiful blonde waitress holding two menus in her hand. “Cowen, party of two?”
I nod, and offer my elbow to Bryn to take.
Thankfully, they take us to a secluded spot, a table in the back in a private alcove. No one will see us here. Though I'm not trying to hide, I would much prefer not having an audience.
I pull out the chair for her, admiring her sexy curves. She dolled herself up for this. I don't know much about what women do, but I know that breasts don't naturally almost fall out of a dress like that, she's got something pushing them up. I swallow hard. I imagine licking and biting them.
The stark white of her dress brings out the vivid beauty of her eyes, and as she tucks the chair under the table, I catch the faintest whiff of her perfume. Faintly floral, faintly spicy, fucking sexy.
I take my seat across from her. "Your wine menu, please.”
Bryn smiles. “Your entire drink menu, while you’re at it.” She gives me a teasing look. “You don’t need to drink wine on my behalf.”
“I like wine. Think I’m not refined enough?”
She shakes her head, her eyes dancing. The hostess smiles. “Yes, sir, right away.”
Bryn rolls her eyes. “She loved calling you ‘sir,’ did you see that?”
I chuckle. “What?”
She snorts. “It was like part of her entire act, falling all over herself seating you and calling you sir. She couldn’t care less about me.”
Is she jealous?
“I think she was just being polite. It’s what they do, how they earn their tips.” I lean across the table and brush my fingers across her neck. She loves it when I do that. “You, however, calling me ‘sir’ would be a completely different thing.”
Her eyes widen ever-so-slightly. “What happened to the jovial bloke who bought me cookies, and what have you done with him?”
I lean across the table. “You were the one that wore that dress.”
She looks down at herself, as if just realizing she’s wearing a provocative iridescent affair painted to her perfect figure.
“Oh, this little thing?” she says in a mock American southern accent. “I wear this one to buy groceries.”
I shake my head and lower my voice. “If you ever wear something like that to buy groceries again, I’ll take you across my knee to teach you better.”
Her voice is low and husky. She blinks. “Excuse me?” She swallows hard as I sit back up and shake my head.
“You heard me.”
The waiter comes over with the beverage menus and breadbasket. We order drinks and appetizers, and have gone through nearly an entire bottle of wine before our main entrees are served. Both the wine and conversation flow easily. She’s witty and smart, a clever lassie if ever I saw one.
She tries a few times to ask me questions, to find out more about me, but I steer the conversation back to talk of her and her shop.
“Does your father know you own it?”
A shadow crosses her features again, and this time doesn’t leave as quickly as the first. She finishes her glass of wine before she responds with a sigh.
“Aye. He does now.”
Her lips thin. I don’t pry.
“Will he find out that we ditched your bodyguard?” I hate the idea of her getting in trouble with her father. I despise the man.
She laughs and shakes her head. “Do you really think my bodyguard would admit to losing me like that? Oh, I doubt it.”
I watch her take another bite of food, chew, then swallow.
“Good,” I tell her. “The only person I want you in trouble with is me.”
She shivers, her voice dropping to a whisper. “What do you mean?”
I shake my head at her. “Tonight, I’ll show you exactly what I mean.” The waiter comes back to the table with a dessert menu.
“Dessert?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you.” I look to Bryn. “You?”
She places her hand on her belly. “Oh, no thanks. I’m so full.”
“We’ll take the check, please. But just a minute.” I turn to her. “Hypothetically, if you had any more room in your belly, what would you order for dessert?”
“Chocolate,” she says with a smile. “Something decadently chocolate.”
I look up at the waiter. “Every chocolate dessert on your menu, takeaway please.”
“Yes, sir. Straight away, sir.”
Bryn shakes her head but smiles. “You have plans, do you?”
I shrug noncommittally. “Suppose we shall see?”
As we head back to the car, her phone buzzes. She scowls at the screen, then shoves it in her bag.
“Everything alright?”
She groans. “God, yes, just super annoying.”
“What is?”
She sighs. “Oh, nothing.”
It isn’t nothing. I want to know what bothers her, what annoys her, what makes her forehead pucker like that. But my goal right now is to build trust, so I can’t push too hard or fast. It wouldn’t be fair.
I like the feel of her hand in mine. I like the way she walks, like a queen, her head held high, elegant and regal. I like the way her lips turn down when she’s annoyed, and the way they turn up when she’s amused.
I like that she lets me hold her hand.
“Come with me to my place. My family lives about thirty minutes from here, but I have a place in town.”
I don’t want to tell her any lies, in case she does find out who I am. If she’s to trust me, I have to keep as authentic as I can.
“Aye,” she says with a smile. “I’d like that.”
Perfect.