Chapter 9
Saturday night. Anna climbed out of her cab more nervous than a hooker in church. She’d been on dates before, but this was her first time meeting a man from the site. What exactly does one say to a prospective sugar daddy? She could hear Rachel in her head. You say hi. Duh.
Together, they decided via SB messaging that they would meet at a small, high-end seafood restaurant. Why she insisted on being super early, she wasn’t sure. Maybe because just thinking about possibly being on a date made her knees weak and she didn’t want to risk tripping and falling on her face in front of him. So there she was, thirty minutes early. She stood in the parking lot, looking around in case he came early, too, and then decided from the catcalls that she was safer inside than waiting outside.
“Do you have a reservation?”
“There should be one under Dom.”
The woman’s manicured finger skimmed down a list before she found the name and smiled up at her. “You’re early, I can seat you at the bar for now?”
“Sure.”
“Right this way, Miss.”
She sat and fidgeted with her clutch until she decided to busy herself with her phone. The SB app came up, and she stared at his profile picture again. How would she know if it was him? He wasn’t likely to come to dinner with his shirt off. Or worse, what if he was a catfish? What if he was huge and hadn’t had those abs since college, but hoped she overlooked it because he was rich. Or even worse, what if he didn’t show?
The waiter came by with a menu. “May I get you something to drink?”
"Red wine, please, for now. Thank you,” she said, not bothering to look at the laminated pages.
From her seat, she had a view of the entrance; only couples came and left. She fidgeted, adjusting the strap of her dress and mushing her pink lips. She knew that she looked great; she had checked five times before she left. She was showing just the right amount of skin, sexy, but not too sexy, which was hard to pull off. If this wasn’t her Dom, she didn’t want to seem too inviting. Even if this was her Dom, technically this was their first date, and she wanted to seem inviting, but not too inviting. But what were the chances she’d meet a very sexy man named Dom and a day later receive a message from a man named Dom, too. The chances that the two men were the same were good.
She wore a black summer dress and her favorite Free People heels with a cute boho clutch she had found at a thrift store. Her hair was up in a messy bun, because Rachel insisted she had a beautiful neck and sun-kissed skin that she should show off whenever she could.
With nothing left to do, she perused the bar menu. She decided she would be ordering the butter chicken and pilaf rice no matter what. Even though the place was known for its seafood, she wasn’t in the mood. She let herself soak in the ambient music for a few moments and wondered what the French words on the menu meant.
Anna almost jumped from her seat when the daddy made his entrance.
It was him, her Dom.
He may have left Italy, but he still owned very nice clothing; he was no longer in his blue jeans, plaid shirt over his white T, and his Blundstone boots. Tonight it was a dress shirt, tight blue jeans, and his best Italian leather shoes. His confident stride brought a small breeze of his cologne to the table. He looked great, and he smelled like a million bucks. He was fucking hot. She looked down at the menu, feeling her cheeks heat and trying to hide her excitement. First, she was staring like an idiot who couldn’t speak, and now she was blushing like a schoolgirl.
It was really him. She couldn’t believe it was him.
“It’s you.”
“Good evening, Anna. Funny meeting you here, no?”
She giggled. “The pleasure is all mine.”
The waiter appeared behind him. “I can seat you at your table now.”
Wine in hand uncorked the bottle she poured a taste into their glasses.
“I hope you don’t mind; I ordered some wine.”
He turned the bottle to read it. “I don’t mind. Great choice.”
“So,” she said, “I still can’t believe it’s you. I mean, the picture was just abs, I wasn’t sure who I was meeting.”
“Well, rest assured, the picture is authentic. If you want, I can verify the picture was in no way photo shopped,” he said, moving to unbutton his shirt.
“No!”
He chuckled. “I am teasing.”
She could feel her cheeks burning. He had appeared to be indifferent to undressing in a restaurant, and she was flustered.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
“I thought it would be better as a surprise. Were you surprised?” He glanced up from the menu to see her eyes.
“Very.”
He licked his lips before speaking, and Anna struggled to move her gaze from his mouth back to his eyes. “Then it was worth not telling you.”
“But how?”
“I saw the site on your browsing history.”
She blushed. Of course he had. “And you don’t care?”
“About?”
She leaned forward, whispering, “About me seeking arrangements?”
Most men were put off. They thought it was high-class prostitution. He shrugged, sitting his menu down, sure of what he wanted. “Does it matter?”
Of course it did. They were out tonight… on a date. At least she thought it was a date. If it wasn’t, she needed to know. Especially if he wasn’t considering her as a sugar baby. It was all too confusing.
The waiter chose that time to appear and take their orders. He was very thorough, asking every possible question before leaving with his small notepad in tow. Dom complimented her as soon as he left.
“I like your dress.”
She blushed and thanked him. “Thank you.”
She stared off to the side, too nervous to speak. What should she say? What did he think about her being on the site? Was he upset?
“Anna.”
His voice sent shivers down her spine and commanded her attention. “Yes?” She stared into his intense eyes.
“There’s no place I’d rather be than here with you. If I had a problem, I wouldn’t be here. Okay?” He waited for her to nod before continuing. “Now, tell me about yourself. I want to get to know you. ”
Anna felt the world melt away as she stared into Dom’s eyes. She didn't even notice the waiter coming or going. She almost forgot that they were here to eat, that was how strong their connection was. Her poor heart didn’t get a break; it raced throughout dinner and dessert, reminding her that it wasn’t a fluke. The first time they had met, there had been an attraction at first sight, and she was feeling the exact same way now. Yes, one could say they had met under precarious circumstances that would make this a bad idea, but she couldn’t see that. All she could think about was how he made her feel. Throughout dinner, he wanted to know everything about her. Where she worked, what she was studying in school, her favorite things, where she was from and about her family. No man had ever doted that much attention on her on a first date. Usually, they only wanted to talk about themselves.
She felt bad and tried to steer the conversation his way, but his answers were always short.
“You said you were from Italy; what part?” she asked.
“A small fisherman’s market; you probably never heard of it. Tell me where you’re from.”
“What do you do?”
“I work in construction. What about you? Are you a professional photographer?”
“How long have you had Gelato?”
“Not long. Do you have any pets?”
Each short answer always rounded back to her in a way that made her believe he was actually interested in her answers. How could she be suspicious of a man leaning in to hear every word she was saying?
The meal was fabulous. She went through with her order, and Dom ordered a lobster soup. She imagined he would spill at least one drop on his black shirt, but no, he didn't. He ate like a gentleman until every drop was gone. The wine was a perfect accompaniment, and the waiter somehow understood they wanted to be left alone. Everything about dinner was perfect, and the company was even better. She didn’t want the night to end.
She thought Dom felt the same way until he snagged the waiter for the check. She checked the time on her phone and frowned. It wasn’t even that late. The waiter was quick about the bill, and less than five minutes later, Dom signed the receipt, much to Anna’s disappointment. He glanced up as he closed the pen in the leather fold to catch her chewing her bottom lip.
This was the part where they had to say goodbye. Her forehead creased, unsure how else to prolong the evening. Maybe she could hint that she needed a ride home. He wouldn’t send her back home in a cab, would he?
“Want to go dancing?”
Her face brightened. Of course, it wasn’t over. Absolutely. “Yes.”