I feel awkward as shit doing it, but I still like it.
We’re led to a plush booth at the back of the restaurant. We pass what has to be a VIP section since the tables are more intimate, with lower lighting. I try not to look their way as Zander helps me into the booth before taking his seat.
“What will you have to drink?” the waiter asks while dropping menus in front of us and finishing up what felt like a speech about the fish of the day and something else. I can’t concentrate on what he’s saying with how fast my heart is beating.
“A white Zinfandel and I’ll have a whiskey sour,” Zander replies, not even bothering to ask me what I want.
“Of course, Mr. Payne.” The waiter nods his head and walks off.
When he’s gone, Zander focuses his eyes on me, the intensity of his gaze causing goosebumps to run down my arms. “You look beautiful.”
My lips part with surprise as my cheeks flush. They’re simple words, but they mean so much when they sound genuine.
“Thank you,” I say softly when I can finally manage, lowering my lashes.
“You’re welcome,” Zander says, giving me that intense look that makes my skin prick.
For a moment, I get lost in his piercing blue eyes, wanting - no, wishing - that this was something more than what it really is.
“Why are we doing this again?” I blurt out suddenly. I bite my tongue after I say it. I wish I could take the words back, I only need to get the money and forget about all of this.
Zander arches an eyebrow. “Doing what?”
I gesture between us. “This... pretending...” I shift slightly in my seat, feeling so damn uncomfortable. “I just don’t understand.”
For the first time this night, Zander frowns and it makes me regret my outburst. “I already told you why,” he says, keeping his voice low. “I don’t want a Slave. It doesn’t appeal to me.”
And playing make-believe does? I want to ask. It’s hard to believe a man like Zander not having needs. Sexual needs that revolve around power and domination. The thought brings a heat to my core, and I have to sit back in my seat, grabbing the napkin and delicately placing it over my lap.
“I’d rather get to know you first before having you crawl to me on your hands and knees,” Zander says quietly.
His words have a clear effect on my body. I’d happily crawl to him. He must see the flicker of lust in my eyes, and the same is reflected in his. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Right then the waiter returns with our drinks, saving me from responding. He sets a sparkling wine glass down in front of me and a mixed drink down in front of Zander.
“Are you ready to order, sir?” the waiter asks.
Zander nods. “A medium rare steak with crab cakes for me, and the stuffed lobster for my sweetheart.” He says it again. Sweetheart. And a blush grows on my cheeks, heating my face and making me fiddle with the napkin to soothe my nerves.
“Wonderful selections, sir,” the waiter says as he scribbles down the order and leaves us.
“What if I was allergic to seafood?” I have to inquire when he’s gone.
Zander shakes his head. “I know you aren’t. I want to appear that I know exactly what you want, like I’ve known you for some time. Remember, we’re playing a role.” He grins. “Besides, I know you’ll love what I ordered for you. Promise.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I say softly, flashing a fake smile as I take in his admission that he knew I wasn’t allergic.
“Smart girl.” Zander grins as if pleased by my behavior. He takes a sip of his drink, his penetrating eyes glued to my face. He keeps them on me, literally making me squirm in my seat before asking, “Tell me, what do you do in your free time?”
I hesitate for a moment, glancing down into my glass, a slight flush coming to my cheeks. I wonder if he already knows.
“You can tell me,” Zander says gently. “I don’t judge.” I look up at him, searching his eyes for the reason he’s asking me, but I come up emptyhanded.
“I work at a soup kitchen, doing work for the homeless,” I tell him. “When I’m not working, I like to paint.”
“And you were ashamed to tell me that?” Zander asks.
I bite my lower lip. “It doesn’t pay well.” That’s an understatement.
“But does it make you happy?”
I nod. “In some ways. I like helping people. It makes me feel… complete.”
Zander eyes twinkle as he gazes at me. “I respect that, I really do. And I’d argue, loving what you do is more important than what a job pays.”
“Do you really think so? My bills don’t.” It’s a joke, but I sound absolutely serious.
Zander chuckles. “Can’t say I can argue with that.” Zander arches a curious eyebrow. “And what about your painting?”
I hesitate. I like my artwork, but I’m not sure if Zander will, or anyone else for that matter. I don’t paint it for others; it’s only for me.
“I think I have a picture here in my cell somewhere,” I mumble.
“Can I see?” he asks, his tone filled with inquisitiveness that makes me want to show him.
I dig out my cell from my clutch and flip through the photos until I find a picture of one of my paintings. It’s on the darker side with a woman lying down on a bed while looking out of a small window. It’s not some picturesque painting. Not a classic, like a gorgeous landscape of rolling green hills and an azure blue sky. She’s haunted by something that keeps her in her room, although I don’t know what.
My throat is dry as I pass him the phone, my palm feeling sweaty and my nerves making me nearly regret showing it to him. Zander takes more than a moment to look over it, his eyes moving slowly across the screen before passing my phone back. “That’s beautiful, Arianna,” he compliments me, a note of respect entering his voice. “You’re very talented.”
“It’s a little…” I trail off as I try to think of the right word to defend it before he can question it, but he fills in the word for me.
“Haunting,” he says and his voice is firm. “It’s in her eyes.”
I nod my head, not trusting myself to respond verbally. “It really speaks to how well you’re able to paint emotions. Not everyone can do that.”
I blush furiously at his praise, my self-confidence rising several notches. “Thank you,” I say softly.
The waiter returns with both of our plates and I’m shocked to see how quickly time has gone by. The smell of sweet butter and herbs wafts toward me, and my mouth waters.
We’re both quiet as the meals are set in front of us, although I notice Zander checking his phone.
“Is everything alright?” I ask him when we’re alone again.
He gives me a smile, picking up his utensils and answers, “It’s perfect.”
Chapter 13
Zander
I’m rewarded with a small smile as I set my hand on Arianna’s thigh as I readjust in my seat in the back of the Mercedes. I wonder if she’s ever been treated this way before. It’s not so difficult. A sweet gesture here and there, and alone time over a nice meal.