Chapter 18
RILEY
Nick did, in fact, manage to talk me into going home with him, and he didn’t even have to hold my panties hostage to get me to say yes.
Maybe it’s just because everything is so new and I’ve been pining after him for so long, but I can’t seem to get enough of Nick.
Every second we spend apart feels like weeks on end, and every moment that we’re both free, we spend together.
It’s fun, knowing that he’s just as into this—into me—as I’m into him.
I’ve never had a partner that I wanted to be around all the time before, but I can’t get enough of it.
He’s so intense, even when he’s being gentle and affectionate, like a wolf that knows exactly how sharp his teeth are and is being extra careful not to draw blood.
In between downright filthy texts, he asks me meaningless little questions, things that would be idle conversation from anyone else.
Nick seems to want to know everything about me, no matter how mundane, and it makes me feel like I’m the center of his world even if all we’re talking about is the weather.
Especially after the not-so-little revelation I had beneath his desk this afternoon, I find that I want to be around him all the time. It’s only Wednesday, so I can’t convince myself to stay the night, but I couldn’t say no when he invited me to dinner.
It’s not like he’d have taken no for an answer, anyway.
I’m coming to learn that an invitation from Nick is really just him telling me when and where to show up.
He texted me shortly after sending me back to my desk with his come staining my panties and told me that we were having dinner at his penthouse tonight. Wine, food, the works, he’d said.
The works, now that I’m here, apparently include a bouquet of freshly picked roses, candles flickering romantically around his dining room and living room, and a stunning meal dropped off by his private chef.
I don’t know if he just guessed really well or if he sneakily asked Taylor for recommendations, but he managed to pick my favorite… everything.
Needless to say, I’m overwhelmed by it all, and when he excuses himself to get us each a glass of wine after kissing me on the forehead, I take a moment to remind myself that this is real.
Soft classical violin titters out from the glossy turntable that takes up an entire wall in his living room.
The massive dining table I’m sitting at looks like it cost as much as my entire apartment building, but I remind myself for probably the thousandth time since walking in that Nick isn’t trying to impress me with his money.
His penthouse looks like something out of a Pinterest post, but it’s not gaudy. Just so out of my league that I’m a little scared to touch anything.
“Sorry for the wait,” Nick says as he comes back in from his kitchen with two huge glasses of dark red wine. “Pétrus, 1989. I’m more of a whiskey man myself, but my mother swears by it.”
He slides one glass in front of me before rounding my chair and taking a seat beside me.
I pick the glass up and sniff at it curiously before taking a sip, my brows arching in surprise at the bold, deep flavor. “Wow,” I hum, taking another sip. “I know, like, nothing about wine, but that’s delicious.”
“My mother will be thrilled to hear it,” Nick says with a grin before taking a sip of his own. “Let’s eat. Ronan’s food is too good to let sit around.”
Dinner is laid out lavishly on one large tray: thin slices of perfectly cooked steak drizzled with a dark sauce and golden roasted spears of asparagus nestled on a bed of fluffy mashed potatoes.
Microgreens and little flowers dot the plate and add a splash of color that turns the meal into a work of art.
I almost feel bad about eating it.
Nick has no such reservations, picking up his fork and spearing a bite-sized piece of steak. He swipes it through the mashed potatoes, leaving a streak of the sauce behind, before holding it up to me.
I blush as I open my mouth but silently revel in the intimacy of being fed like this.
The flavors burst across my tongue, and I moan as I chew, buttery potatoes and whatever tart berries are in the sauce and tender meat melting across my palate. My eyes meet Nick’s as I swallow, only to find him grinning at me, resting his cheek on his closed fist as he watches me.
“Good?” he asks.
“Incredible,” I answer with a breathless laugh. “You said your mom likes this wine, right? What’s she like?”
I’m pretty sure I’ve got a good idea of what Nick is like as a person, at least around me, but I’ve been wanting to know more about him. He’s not much of an open book, and he spends so much time asking about me that I rarely get a chance to find out about his life.
Who is Nicholas D’Amico when he’s not with me?
“She’s a strong woman,” Nick says after a moment of hesitation, scooping up another bite of food and carefully feeding me. “Dad passed away years ago, so she handles the family. I’m closest to her out of everyone.”
The look in his eyes is softer than I expected for someone who’s avoided questions about his childhood like the plague so far, and it makes me smile.
“My mom’s like that too. Always taking care of everyone else,” I say fondly, giggling a bit as I spear a bite of steak and hold it out to him. “She lives in Florida now, so I don’t get to see her as often as I’d like, but she’s who I got my work ethic from. Is Marcus your only sibling?”
The easy warmth in Nick’s eyes fades a bit at that, and he takes a sip of his wine to wash down the steak before answering me.
“I have an older brother too. We don’t see each other often.”
I can take a hint when I see one, and his clipped tone tells me that Nick obviously doesn’t want to talk about his siblings.
His mom might still be a safe topic to prod about, but I’d rather just enjoy our night.
Whatever his reasons for not wanting to talk about his family, he’ll tell me about them when he’s ready.
“Where’d you go to school?” I switch topics easily as I spear a stem of asparagus and nibble on it.
“NYC Stern,” he answers, the tension melting out of his shoulders as he swirls his wine around in his glass.
“Got my bachelor’s there, then Columbia for my MBA.
Spent about half of college partying, then figured I should take it more seriously.
I took over the company when I graduated and turned it from a little financial consulting firm into the stock market giant we are today.
” He pauses and winks at me. “Not to brag or anything.”
“You? Brag?” I tease. “I’d never believe such a thing.”
I really am just poking at him; he’s never done much bragging around me. Some of the things he says may seem like bragging, but it’s just him being honest about his own skills. He’s confident, intensely so, but it’s not unearned.
Nick has put his money where his mouth is every time he’s promised me something outrageous.
Every orgasm I’ve ever had at his hands can speak to that.
He smirks like he knows exactly what I’m thinking about as he feeds me another bite of steak. Comfortable silence falls between us as we eat, sharing forks and sipping at wine that seems to get better with every sip.
It’s nice to just enjoy his company like this and not worry about whether I’m interesting or pretty enough to keep his attention.
I never really worried about those things with my past partners, but it wasn’t out of confidence in my looks or ability to keep them entertained.
I just… didn’t care that much, and if my natural self wasn’t enough to keep them around, I could keep myself busy with other things.
With Nick, it’s not even a thought in my mind.
He’s the kind of guy I should be nervous around—rich and gorgeous and capable—but one look from him soothes all my concerns. It helps that he never takes his eyes off me, either. He watches me like he can’t get enough of the sight of me, and it draws me in like a moth to a flame.
“You mentioned when we met at the gala that you liked to read,” I say as we polish off the last bit of mashed potatoes. “What kind of books do you like?”
“I recently came across a new author that I’m rather fond of, actually,” he says with a shit-eating grin. “You might have heard of her. Riley Morgan, mostly short-form, all hand-written pieces —”
I cut him off with a hand over his mouth, glaring at him past a raging blush as his muffled laughter echoes from behind my palm.
“That’s enough out of you,” I say, squeezing my fingers over the rough stubble lining his cheeks. “If you answer the question, I’ll let you read more from my journal.”
He tugs my wrist down and hooks his foot around the leg of my chair to pull me closer in one smooth movement. My breath hitches in my chest as he ghosts his lips across my jaw, chuckling softly in my ear.
“Miss Morgan, we both know you’re not in charge here,” he croons. “I’ll do what I damn well please, and you’ll let me do whatever I want. Isn’t that right?”
I whine in defeat and drop my forehead down on his shoulder, my face flaming with arousal along with embarrassment now.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper.
He tucks one finger beneath my chin to tip my head up, forcing me to meet his blue-grey eyes, twinkling with mirth.
“What was that, Princess? I didn’t quite hear you.”
Heat floods my core, but before I can choose between repeating myself or just jumping him, a sharp knock sounds from his front door.
I jump in surprise and Nick’s head whips up, eyes narrowing sharply.
He told me he’d cleared the schedule of his usual staff for the night and had his assistant field any work messages for the evening.
I certainly didn’t invite anyone over to crash our romantic evening.
Nick’s brows pull together in a confused frown as the knock comes again, louder this time, and he huffs out a sigh before dropping my wrist and scooting his chair back.
His shoulders are tense, a dark glint to his eyes that I’m not familiar with, but the smile he offers me is as soft as always.
“Just a second, baby,” he promises, leaning forward to kiss my forehead before standing and straightening his button down. “Be right back.”