Page 21 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

“You realize your last name is on a million buildings in L.A.?”

“I’m aware.”

I throw my hands up. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

He looks down at me clearly entertained.

“What do you want me to say, Doll?”

“I don’t know. Maybe something like, hey Katie, heads-up, I’m a billionaire and own half the city. You know. Small talk.”

He studies my face for a second.

“You seemed more concerned about my mustache.”

My face heats. He steps closer, but my body doesn’t step back, which feels like a personal betrayal. A throat clears. I turn, and Arianna is standing there with her mouth open.

Oh my God.

“Right this way,” she says.

Great. By Monday, the entire student body will know Ms. Miller went to The Lantern Cafe with a six-foot-five man who is objectively too hot to be standing next to a public school teacher.

Arianna leads us to our table, and as we weave through the restaurant, Michael’s hand falls to the center of my back. I tense automatically, but I feel the warmth of his palm, and my body betrays me by relaxing into it. She stops at a table near the back patio. The French doors are open wide tonight, and a small band is already playing.

“Is this okay?” she asks.

“It’s perfect,” Michael says. “Thank you.”

She glances nervously between us. “I’ll see you Monday, Ms. Miller.”

“Bye, Arianna. Have a good weekend.”

She practically sprints away, probably to text the entire student body. I’m about to pull out my chair when Michael steps in front of me.

“If you wanted this side, you could’ve said so.”

He smirks, pulls the chair out, and waits.

Oh.

I sit down, and he pushes the chair in for me before taking the seat across from me. When I look up, he’s already watching me, grinning. Suddenly I’m very nervous.

Michael leans back in his chair.

“That was cute,” he says.

I wrinkle my nose at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You and your student.” He gestures lazily toward the front of the restaurant where Arianna disappeared.

My stomach sinks.

“Oh my God,” I mutter, rubbing my forehead. “I want you to know I’m walking into an absolute shit show on Monday.”

Michael’s mouth twitches.

“She’s going to tell everyone,” I continue. “Not only her friends. Everyone. By second period the entire school will know Ms. Miller showed up to The Lantern Cafe with a tattooed, wildly attractive, six-foot-five man.”