Chapter 1
Tracy
Click, click, click.
I tap my nails against the white tablecloth, the red on my fingernails perfectly matching the red on my lips. It was only appropriate, my favorite blowjob red shade, for a date with Cayden Ivenson.
An entrepreneur in the tech space, he’s been my client for three months now, and we just closed on a twelve-million dollar home. The second I handed him the keys, he asked me out.
He’d actually been asking me to go out since we first started working together, but I kept refusing. Because, unlike my broker, Blake Frenshaw, I have professional ethics.
For the last five years, I’ve been busting my ass to become one of the top selling real estate agents in the country. I’ve maintained the utmost professionalism the entire time, priding myself on the reputation I’ve built and the relationships I’ve cultivated in the process.
I don’t date clients. It’s messy, it’s unprofessional, and it’s just begging to be opened up to an ethics violation. So, while Cayden and I were actively working together, I adamantly refused. But hey, the deal is closed now, so he’s not really a client anymore, is he?
At least, that’s what I told myself when I agreed to go out with him.
I spy our waiter approaching out of the corner of my eye and stop the drumming of my fingernails.
“Could I interest you in a drink while you wait, ma’am?” the waiter asks, a leather bound drink menu clutched under his arm.
Cayden made reservations at this restaurant weeks ago, before he’d even closed on his house, in the hopes I’d finally agree to go out with him. When he told me, I couldn’t deny how sweet that was, and it just further reaffirmed my decision to give things a shot with him.
He has a bit of a reputation as a playboy, but maybe he’s turning over a new leaf. I can’t imagine him putting in so much effort if he wasn’t genuinely interested in getting to know me on a more personal level.
“Yes, please,” I tell the waiter. “Could I see your wine menu?”
He hands me the drink menu, opening it to the third page and displaying a rather impressive bottle list.
I’ve never been here before, but I must admit I’ve been impressed so far, and I haven’t even eaten anything yet. Hailed as one of the best restaurants in the DC metro area, I was excited to try it when Cayden told me about it.
Opting for a four-hundred dollar red the waiter recommends, he nods his approval before leaving once again.
I love wine, but I honestly couldn’t tell you shit about it. Either it tastes good, or it doesn’t. But at four-hundred bucks a bottle, it has to be good, right?
Hopefully Cayden likes it and doesn’t mind that I ordered for us. I know he’s a red wine drinker, so I think the odds are in my favor. And if not? I have no problem finishing that bottle by myself.
I had gotten a text from him when I arrived that he was caught in traffic and would be fifteen minutes late. He told me not to wait and to get seated, and I’ve been sitting here with ants in my pants ever since.
It’s not that I’m nervous. Or that I’m anxious. It’s more of a buzzing anticipation for where the night could go. I’ve been looking forward to this date since we agreed to it a week ago, because no better way to heal a broken heart and move on than by fucking someone new.
A snicker escapes my lips. I’d been telling Riley that before she got together with her new man, Emmett, and I can confidently say that bit of advice worked out well for her.
So, it has to work out for me, too. Eventually.
God, I hope so.
Scanning the restaurant around me, I take in the leather booths and dark wood tables draped in white linens, crystal glassware, and finely dressed patrons.
Candle light dances across the tables, and dim chandeliers cast the dining room in a soft, warm glow.
The place screams elegance, and I’m suddenly wondering why I never came here before.
A spot like this is right up my alley and perfect for wooing high end clients.
Or for dressing up and dragging best friends to for a girls’ night out. I’ll have to treat Riley to dinner here before she moves away to Tennessee in a few weeks.
My chest constricts a little at the thought. She’s been my best friend my entire life, and while I’m happy for her that she’s going back to school and finally taking control of what she wants in life, I’m going to miss her like crazy.
Yeah, we definitely need at least a few more date nights before she leaves.
Continuing my sweep of the restaurant, my eyes roam over the back wall where a long, onyx bar graces the length of the space.
Crystal pendant lights hang over the bar and the lighting on the shelves of liquor behind it casts the bar in a kind of ethereal glow, making it feel a little moodier than the rest of the restaurant.
There’s a handful of people sitting at the bar, nursing drinks and chatting, and…
“Are you kidding me?” I groan to myself.
There, right in the middle of the bar, is a black head of hair I’d recognize anywhere.
Blake.
I try my best to ignore the twisting in my gut.
Maybe it’s a coincidence? Or he could be meeting someone here.
He’s dressed in the typical slacks and button up he usually wears when he has something important going on, so it could be a business meeting.
Though that seems unlikely given his seat at the bar instead of at a table. Plus, it’s a Saturday night.
Just ignore him. Just ignore him. Just ignore him.
But I can’t. I swear, just knowing he’s in the same building as me has my blood pressure spiking. It can’t be healthy.
Deciding tonight isn’t the night to drive myself to an early grave, I get up from the table and head for the bar, my nude stilettos clicking against the wood floor. When I reach it, I step into the space between the chair he’s sitting in and the neighboring one.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, getting his attention as I lean against the bar top facing him. His eyes dip to my chest, then land on my lips, a slow grin snaking its way across his face.
“Pulling out all the stops tonight, are we Trace?” Despite the grin on his face, his voice is soaked with disdain.
I’m wearing a shimmery gold mini dress tonight.
It’s one of my favorites, the cut of it making my boobs and ass look fantastic.
Plus, it makes me feel good. So, fuck him for implying I’m playing dress up for Cayden.
My self-worth isn’t so far in the gutter that I need validation from men to make myself happy.
I grab the drink sitting in front of him, taking a sip and making sure to let my lips linger. Whiskey—his go to drink of choice. When I pull the glass away, there’s a perfect print of lipstick on the rim.
His eyes dip to the glass as I set it back down in front of him, the grin dropping from his face when he sees the lip print.
“Jealous, Blake?” I flash him a bright smile.
He grunts, grabbing the drink and taking a sip from the side opposite the lipstick mark.
When he sets the glass back down, I lean in closer, lowering my voice and pushing my chest out a little in his direction.
“I think you are. I think you’re so wound up over the fact that I refuse to sign those papers that you can’t help yourself.
That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To see if I go home with Cayden?
To try to validate this twisted belief you have that there’s anything left between us.
” I bring my lips to his ear. “Spoiler alert, Blake: this night could end up a million different ways, but none of them are with me running back to you.”
The animosity in his eyes and rigid set of his jaw are all the confirmation I need to know I hit my mark. Flashing him yet another signature smile, I push off the bar and make my way toward the restroom.
It isn’t until I’m safely inside the bathroom that I let out a shuddering breath. No matter what I do, it feels like I can never escape him. Blake is always there, hiding in the recesses of my mind, refusing to leave. Or in this case, actually here in person.
Adjusting the thin straps of my dress, I take a steadying breath through my nose, then touch up my lipstick in the mirror before heading back out to my table.
Cayden is there when I approach, and he stands to greet me, pulling me to him and kissing my cheek. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a nightmare.” He pulls back, but holds on to one of my hands, looking me up and down appreciatively. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks,” I say, popping a hip and putting my free hand on it. I know the move accentuates the curves of my body, and I’m not above showing off a little bit for him. “You look pretty good yourself.”
He really does. There’s no denying how attractive he is.
I’d have to have been blind not to notice the first time I met him.
He has short brown hair that’s always just slightly disheveled, and these gorgeous brown eyes I could just sink into.
He’s also fit, and I admire the way his dress shirt and slacks pull just a little taught over his body.
I guess it shouldn’t be surprising. A notorious playboy is bound to have a drool worthy body. Still, I should probably examine it for myself at some point, just to be sure.
We each take our seats and the waiter returns with dinner menus and the bottle of wine I had ordered before.
He pours each of us a glass and we order.
Cayden tells me about the newest company he’s building—something about some kind of software—but I’m having a hard time paying attention because I can feel Blake’s eyes shooting daggers at me in the mirror behind the bar.
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.
I reach for my drink, taking several large sips.
This outrageously expensive wine is thankfully delicious, so I just down the rest of my glass.
I’m definitely breaking every rule of fine dining and dating etiquette in the process, but I couldn’t care less right now.
I’m just hoping a good buzz will numb the holes Blake’s daggers are leaving in my skin.