He walks around to my side of the car, and I hesitate before climbing out, noticing the uneven cobblestone, hyper aware that I am in no way accustomed to walking in such high heels.
“Is everything ok?” he asks.
“I might have to take my shoes off to walk to the entrance.”
He laughs, and without a word, he leans into the car, and he scoops me into his arms and cradles me against his chest. I let out a little yelp in fright, then cling to him.
Glancing around me, half embarrassed, I notice the looks on the faces of the women around us.
Not judgment. Butjealousy.
Jealousy because I have this gorgeous, hulking beast of a man who is willing to carry me like a princess to the entrance.
A smirk touches my lips.
Adrian sets me down right at the door and waits while I adjust my coat and my dress. Then he offers me his hand and walks me into the restaurant.
It’s nothing like any place I have ever been in my life. I’ve seen places like this in the movies, with golden pillars, crystal chandeliers, and glass bar tops with lights shining from within.
He walks through the place like this is all completely normal to him, while I stare around in awe.
The hostess gushes over Adrian. He doesn’t seem to notice until she touches his chest, giggling and gently runningher fingers down the front of his jacket. Unprofessional. I guess her hormones got the better of her logic. He scowls in annoyance, pulling me closer to his side, which amuses me. She sucks in her cheeks and says, “Right this way,” as politely as she can.
He pulls my chair out for me. We have the table with the best views and in close proximity to the modern sculpted fireplace. It is magnificent with curves that look like they were inspired by a dragon’s shape.
I turn to look at Adrian from across the table, suddenly deeply annoyed.
I suddenly get it. I understand what’s actually going on right now.
This is all some big plan to impress me. To soften me up and win me over by splashing his wealth in my face. The dress. The shoes. The expensive coat. The restaurant. The extravagance. This is all for show.
I’m about to mutter a harsh retort against him to let him know that I’m not the type of girl someone can ‘buy’ and I never will be impressed by things as shallow as money, but the waiter arrives.
“Good evening,” he says, then begins to rattle off the wine selection and the chef’s choice for the night, and a long story about fancy dishes I can’t pronounce and have never heard of.
My mind drifts off as I look around.
“You’re like a little black kitten,” he muses, and I look up to realize we are alone again.
“The waiter left?” I ask, wondering why I didn’t get to order.
“Yes, I’ve ordered us a bit of everything.”
“What do you mean by that? A black kitten?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Cute, yet dangerous.”
“Kittens are hardly dangerous,” I huff, rolling my eyes.
“Oh, but black ones are. All the bad luck about a black cat crossing your path,” he smirks. “I’m trying to decide if you’re lucky or not.”
“So then, I’m a black cat,” I argue.
“No, you’re too kitten-like to be a cat.”
“Ugh, you don’t even make sense,” I groan.
He chuckles, and the delicious sound rumbles over me in the most annoying way, setting my skin flushing with a heated glow.
