Three fifty-five p.m. on Friday, and I stood just inside the main door of my apartment complex, peering out of the peephole. I didn’t want to look too eager by waiting outside, and my studio faced the back of the complex, so I’d decided to keep an eye out by looking like a total creeper.

Would he even come? Maybe he was just being nice by suggesting going out for coffee. There was no way a guy like Salvatore Wolfe could be interested in me. Yesterday, during my breaks, I’d gotten a chance to look him up online, and the sheer amount of Westport businesses he had a hand in was overwhelming. But while all the articles and websites came up with his professional achievements and awards, there was one thing that was glaringly missing—the Wolfe’s Den. I’d found no mention of it anywhere, and even a search on the club itself turned up nothing. It was as if it didn’t exist.

Strange, but then again, I supposed what people did there wasn’t something they wanted to advertise. I knew I wouldn’t.

God, but what if he did come? That was almost a more frightening thought than if he didn’t show up. Even in my best pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, I still felt entirely unimpressive, but considering I’d been in my work uniform the last time Salvatore had seen me, it was a step up.

As I glanced out through the peephole again, I caught the glossy black Aston Martin roll to a stop in front of my apartment, and the nerves I’d been trying to suppress in my stomach flared. All of a sudden, I felt shaky, my skin got clammy, and I thought I might pass out.

I leaned my forehead against the cool plane of the door and took a deep breath. It was only coffee. Nothing to freak out about. Just a couple of guys having casual conversation over a pastry and some caffeine. I’d already checked the balance in my checking account, and as long as Salvatore wasn’t ravenous, I could cover at least that much.

Straightening, I squared my shoulders and opened the door just as Salvatore was lifting his hand to knock.

“Well, hello,” he said, lowering his arm and giving me a megawatt smile. It took me a good five seconds of staring before I could manage a response, because Salvatore Wolfe in casual dark jeans and a burgundy Henley was the most mouth-watering thing I’d ever laid eyes on.

Salvatore’s gaze traveled down my body, and it almost looked like he bit down on his lip for a second, but I had to be imagining that. Compared to him, I was a wallflower, but I still felt the searing heat of his gaze as it roamed over me—and it lit every nerve ending in my body on fire.

“Shall we go?” he asked when he’d finished his perusal and met my eyes again. His were darker than usual, his pupils dilated, and I felt a thrill of satisfaction in that.

“Of course.” After shutting the door behind me, I somehow managed to put one foot in front of the other and walk alongside him. Any doubt I had about this being a date vanished when he opened the passenger door for me, and as I slid inside, I couldn’t believe my luck.

I’m on a date…a real date with Salvatore Wolfe. Somebody pinch me.

As I watched Salvatore round the hood, I deeply inhaled. His cologne lingered in the air, and it smelled of money and sex—an intoxicating combination.

“Ready to go for a ride?” he asked, and when I nodded, he smiled that wicked smile, and then he put the car in drive and went from zero to sixty before I even had a chance to blink.

“Oh shit,” I said, grabbing the aptly named oh-shit bar just as he took his foot off the gas and we slowed back down to the street’s speed limit. The buzz from witnessing the car in action had my pulse jumping, and as Salvatore looked over at me, waiting for my reaction, a smile turned up my lips.

“Well?” he asked.

“That…was incredible. Can we do it again?”

Salvatore chuckled as we slowed to a four-way stop. “You should see how he handles on the open road. You feel like you’re flying.”

If I’m lucky, maybe he’ll show me sometime…

“Maybe I’ll show you sometime,” he said, and my eyes widened before I nodded.

What are the odds he reads minds too? Are you listening? What’s the capital of Rhode Island?

He didn’t seem to hear that, thank God, and as he turned into a small parking lot and shut off the car, I was surprised to see how quickly the ride had passed. Guess that was what happened when you didn’t have a car that sputtered and died on you constantly.

“Is this okay?” Salvatore asked when I didn’t make a move to unbuckle my seatbelt. Looking up at the sign that read The Jumping Bean, I almost breathed a sigh of relief. I’d been there before, and it wasn’t some fancy, out-of-my-budget choice, which meant he’d chosen this place in consideration of my slim wallet. As if he wasn’t perfect already.

“Yeah, this is great,” I said. “They have banana bread to die for.”

“I’ll have to try some. Stay there.” Salvatore eased out of the car with the grace of a panther, and then he opened my door for me.

“Thank you,” I said, stepping out and getting to my feet. Had anyone ever opened a door for me, car or otherwise? It was a small thing, but it spoke volumes about the man, and as I looked up at him in wonder, I knew I could get used to this. “You’re quite the gentleman.”

As Salvatore opened the door to the café, his lips twisted, and he said, “Not always.” The way he said it made me think of what Brayden had told me about him being a dominant, and a shiver of anticipation shot down to my cock. I wondered what he would do to me if I let him… I hoped I’d get a chance to find out.

* * *

I guided Jesse through the crowded café toward the booth in the back that was always kept empty for me, and waited as he took a seat. As I slid in opposite him, I was aware of the shift in the air between us. It was something I made sure to be attuned to. The subtle nuances in body language, facial expressions, tone of voice—it was all important when it came to understanding those around you in business and…other things.

After the “gentleman” comment, Jesse had gone from excited to aware, and the darkening of his usually light eyes was a good indicator that he was thinking about something other than the fact we were sitting in a quaint coffee shop. The exact reaction I’d hoped to stir. The only way this was going to work was if Jesse trusted me. And the best way to gain that trust was to make myself the exact thing he wanted. The exact thing he needed.

I reached for a menu, and made sure to pass him one. The gentleman act really wasn’t my style, but for today’s purpose it would do the trick nicely. As Jesse reached for it, I made sure to brush his fingers, and when his eyes met mine, I said, “You’re going to be trouble for me, Jesse Clark.”

A tinge of red bloomed on his cheeks, and when I released the menu and sat back, I watched him swallow a gulp of air. Nerves…they made a person that much more enticing.

“Uh, why do you say that?”

I arched an eyebrow at him and flipped open my menu. “Because of the way you keep looking at me.”

Jesse immediately lowered his eyes to what was in his hands, and I let out a low laugh, wanting his attention back on me, and as I suspected, he was helpless to resist. That inquisitive gaze once again found mine. Come on, ask me.

“And…umm, how am I looking at you?”

Bingo. “Like you have questions you want answers to,” I said, and lowered my menu to the table so I could lean over it. “Like you’re intrigued but not sure if you should be.”

Jesse blinked several times, and then moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, and I lowered my eyes to follow its path.

“Oh God,” he muttered, and when I returned my focus back to him, Jesse hurriedly said, “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

No, you haven’t. I moved back to my side of the table to give him some space to breathe, and once again picked up my menu, even though I already knew what I wanted. “I know.”

“I mean, you’re Salvatore Wolfe. I guess I do have a lot of questions, but…” He paused and shook his head. “I just can’t seem to think of one right this second.”

“How about we start with a very basic one.”

Jesse’s eyes roved all over my face and then down to my hands as he said, “Okay…”

I could tell he was waiting for something outlandish. Perhaps a command or order after all that he’d learned from his phone call the other night at the laundromat. But that wasn’t about to happen just yet, because the best rewards came to those who had patience—and I had it in spades. “What are you going to have today?” When Jesse’s head came up and he was staring across the table at me once more, I pointed to the menu. “Anything catch your eye?”

“I, uh, haven’t actually looked yet,” he said, and then a soft laugh rumbled out of him. “What about you?”

I made a show of giving him a thorough once-over. “Oh, something’s caught my eye, all right. Ever since I saw him walk into my club last weekend.”

As Jesse’s mouth fell open, I knew he was making the correlation between the Wolfe’s Den and me, and I made sure to hold his attention even when the waitress stopped beside us.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wolfe. What can I get for you both today?”

I narrowed my eyes at the stunned man opposite me and then decided to help him out. “Actually, could you give us a few more minutes, Beth? Jesse here is still trying to decide.”

She turned to Jesse and aimed a smile his way, and he managed to shake himself out of whatever fog he’d just been in to return it.

“Thank you,” he replied, ever the polite young man.

“Sure thing. Just grab me when you’re ready,” she said, and gave me the same smile before turning and walking away, leaving the two of us alone again.

I waited for what I figured would be one, two, three—

“You saw me at your club that night?”

Seconds.

I nodded, and Jesse slumped back into the booth and shook his head.

“That’s just… This is just… Wait, I was kicked out of your club.”

And there it was, my cue. It was time to see how Jesse would react to my kind of play. “You were, yes. Like I said, you caught my eye, and I wasn’t able to do anything about it that night, so I took you out of others’…sights.”

His eyes went huge, and his mouth opened and then shut again before he quickly sat forward and rested his arms on the table. “You took me out of others’ sights? What does that even mean?”

Perfect response, little lamb. Perfect fucking response. “It means I wanted you, and I didn’t want anyone else to have you before I got a chance to introduce myself.” As his open mouth lifted into a shy smile, my dick throbbed as though he’d sucked it. Yes…he likes the idea as much as I do. That will make this fun indeed.

Then I asked the one question that would seal Jesse’s fate: “Is that okay with you?”

* * *

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Had Salvatore really just admitted to kicking me out of his club so he could have me to himself?

Holy…fucking…shit. The thought was so preposterous that I couldn’t wrap my brain around it, and as I sat there with my jaw on the ground, he said, “I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

Yeah, he had, but for the life of me, I didn’t know how to respond. It had been humiliating to be thrown out, and the walk home wasn’t something I wanted to relive either. But on the other hand…knowing the reason was because he couldn’t stand to see anyone else come near me? That set off all the damn butterflies in my stomach, and I couldn’t stop the smile that crossed my face.

“I guess I’m…flattered,” I said, as I kept my eyes on the napkin I’d been unconsciously folding at the edges.

“You guess?” The amusement in Salvatore’s voice had me looking up at him, and just as I’d expected, his lips had quirked up.

“No, I am…flattered, I mean. I guess I just don’t know what to say to that.” And then I asked the question that had been banging around in my skull since the day he’d asked me for coffee: “Why me?”

Salvatore stroked his chin. “I suppose you could say I have a…type.”

“So it is true,” I blurted out, and a crease formed between his eyebrows.

“What’s true?”

“Uh…” Shit, now I’ve gone and done it. I hadn’t meant to voice that thought, and now that it was out in the open, I wasn’t sure how he’d react.

“Jesse? If there’s something you want to know about me, you only need to ask.” There was a seductive edge to his invitation that had me spilling out the words I should’ve been too shy to say.

“You’re a”—I glanced around us to make sure no one was listening—“a dominant?”

“Yes,” he said, holding my stare. “And you’re a submissive.”

“What? No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I am not. I don’t even know what that really means.”

“Stop talking.”

Shocked at the firm tone, I clamped my mouth shut, and then Salvatore hummed in the back of his throat, like he was pleased.

“Exactly,” he said, and then lifted his hand for the waitress.

I sat back in my seat, stunned. Was what he said true? Was I really a submissive? I hadn’t even thought twice when he’d given me an order, and what was more…I kind of liked it. There was something crazy hot about a man taking charge, and Salvatore was definitely a man who knew what he wanted. And he’d flat-out said that what he wanted was…me.

Beth approached the table again. “Have you gentlemen decided what you’d like?”

Salvatore smiled, his eyes on me. “I believe we have.” He held my gaze for a moment longer and then handed her the menu. “I hear your banana bread is sinful, so I’ll have that and an Americano.”

“It is the best,” she said, and then turned toward me. “And for you?”

“I’ll have the same, but an iced latte with a pump of vanilla, please.” Salvatore raised an eyebrow, and I remembered what Brayden had said the other night. Hell, he’s known as the Wolfe, for fuck’s sake. I doubt that means he’s into any vanilla shit. Maybe that went for coffee too?

As Beth left the table, I found myself once again caught up in the fierce stare of the man opposite me. It was like he was a hypnotist, because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him. He had an intensity about him that both aroused and intimidated me, but I knew myself well enough that nothing was going to make me get up and leave. If nothing else came from this coffee, at least I’d be able to look back and remember the way he watched me as though I was the only one on the planet.

Shifting in my seat a little, I decided it was time for me to ask the one question that was probably the most important. After all, how was I going to know if I didn’t ask, and like Salvatore had said when we sat down, I had questions I wanted answers to. First and foremost: “What do you want from me?”

I wasn’t sure if my directness caught him off guard, but as my words hovered between us, I wondered if I was prepared for the answer. He casually relaxed back into his seat and placed an arm along the back of it. As he tapped his fingers there, I watched them, over and over they drummed, and the blood rushing around my head had me worried I’d miss whatever he decided to say. But one thing I would soon learn about Salvatore Wolfe was that if he wanted you to hear him, he would make sure he was heard.

“For right now?” he said, his eyes intent on mine. “A cup of coffee. Then perhaps we can discuss your penchant for all things…vanilla.”