Primal Instincts_ Volume 2(13)
Author: Nicole Edwards

“Mr. Granger called ahead to set it up for you.”

 

Of course he did. Knowing Creed, he also designed the menu and selected the wine.

 

He might’ve been my closest friend and a man I respected, but he was an asshole of the highest order when he wanted to be. He got off on pushing people. One example was his stunt back in Journey’s office. Making her change in front of me was a gamble, considering this thing between them was new. From the brief conversations I’d had with him, I got the impression he was playing it safe for her benefit. Based on her reaction to Creed’s dare, he might want to consider playing it safe for his own sake. Her response to his challenge had been the exact opposite of what I’d expected from her.

 

That would teach me to make assumptions about people before I knew them.

 

We followed the hostess into the private room where we met on Mondays. I sighed and shook my head when I took it all in. It didn’t look anything like it usually did. There were fucking roses everywhere. Not only enormous vases of them but vines, petals, and single stems lying around. What did Creed do? Buy out three dozen florists?

 

“Oh, my God,” Journey gasped.

 

“I think it’s safe to say he wanted to outdo Hawk’s two dozen,” I muttered.

 

Journey frowned at me, but I put my hand on the small of her back and ushered her toward the table. There were candles and flowers and wine chilling in a bucket. In the center were chocolate-covered strawberries, like maybe we wanted dessert before the meal.

 

Fucking Creed.

 

The waiter was one I recognized, a submissive from the club who was usually assigned to take care of Creed when he was there.

 

“Tell me, Mr. Walker,” Journey said, mimicking the politeness of the hostess, “do you bring women here often?”

 

“You’re the first,” I told her.

 

I could tell she didn’t believe me.

 

“I don’t date va—uhh … all that much.” I’d been close to telling her I didn’t date vanilla women, but I caught myself at the last second.

 

She draped her napkin over her lap while the waiter retrieved the wine.

 

“Yes, please,” she said when he gestured toward her glass.

 

He filled hers first. Before he could fill mine, I waved him off. If I were expected to survive tonight, I’d need something much stronger. “Tito’s on the rocks with a lime. Make it a double.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Why don’t you date?” she prompted when he left us. “I know it’s not because women aren’t lining up at your door.”

 

I liked that she would think so, even if it wasn’t true. I’d established a reputation as somewhat of a loner and a misfit, even at the club. I interacted with a handful of submissives, but it’d been a while since I had indulged. Some might’ve called it a rut. I liked to think of it as self-preservation. Plus, I’d been told I wasn’t approachable, at least when it came to my personal engagements. Again, by design.

 

“I focus a lot on work.” It was an excuse, yes, but not untrue.

 

“So, no serious girlfriends?”

 

I figured now wasn’t the time to correct her assumption that I was only into women. Or that the only sex I had these days was when I punished Hawk. Nor would it benefit my cause to explain that, for whatever fucking reason, being with Hawk had been enough to sustain me. Telling her that I was openly bisexual but had never been on a date with a man because I preferred only to fuck them didn’t seem the best way to kick off the evening.

 

“Not in a few years.”

 

“A few?”

 

“Five,” I clarified, grateful the waiter returned with my drink and just in the nick of time. Even the thought of my ex-fiancée and what she had done was enough to cause a tension headache.

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”

 

I saw a wicked gleam in her eyes, so I indulged her. “How old do I look?”

 

Her eyes narrowed, her gaze sweeping over my face as though she was cataloging my features.

 

“Not a day over…” A slow smile spread on her face. “Fifty.”

 

I barked a laugh, glad I wasn’t taking a drink. “I’m not twice your age, darlin’.”

 

“How do you know how old I am?”

 

“What? Twenty-five?” I guessed.

 

“Try twenty-four.” She flashed a bright grin. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

 

I winked at her. “Thirty-nine. Forty in March. Why? You think I’m too old for you?”

 

Her expression was a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “I didn’t realize we were at the point where age might be a factor.”

 

I didn’t either, but goddamn Creed. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was trying to set me up with this girl.

 

Only, I was here to keep an eye on her at Creed’s request. Unlike Hawk, I didn’t overstep. Ever. I had no desire to endure any sort of punishment from anyone, and since in our world, Creed had the ultimate authority, even over a Dominant, I had learned a long time ago not to cross him. Not my kink. When I engaged in play, I was the aggressor, not the other way around. So I still had to be mindful of not crossing a line Creed inadvertently shifted.

 

I avoided acknowledging she was correct, instead saying, “You didn’t answer my question.”

 

She grinned wide. “Do I think you’re too old for me? No. Not by a minute.”

 

We spent the next hour and a half learning I was right. Creed had selected the menu—all four courses. It started with hors-d’oeuvres of smoked salmon canapés, followed by Caprese phyllo cups for the appetizer, complete with mozzarella shaped like hearts. Thank God he had the good sense to have steak as the main course. I could’ve done without the fancy asparagus, but Journey seemed to like it. And last but not least, miniature molten chocolate lava cakes for dessert. Turned out the fucking strawberries were merely to set the mood.

 

Throughout the entire meal, we carried on a conversation, most of our exchange related to Primal Instincts and Journey’s background, although I got the impression she’d prefer to talk about me. I learned I was right when she managed to come full circle, right back to the mention of my last girlfriend.

 

“So your last relationship … It ended badly?”

 

“Yup.” I was on my third drink and feeling no pain, which was the only reason I elaborated. “Her eyes were wider than my wallet. We didn’t build PI overnight, and since Cartier doesn’t have a layaway plan…” I shrugged.