Prologue
“You’re kidding, right?” Her hand closes over her mouth the moment I bend to one knee and reach into my pocket.
For a brief moment in time, I actually think she may just be surprised, but when she throws her head back and laughs with pure abandon, my body turns cold, and I start to feel sick.
“Liam, for God sakes, get up! We don’t need people to see you and have the word get out that you’ve proposed. What in the Lord’s name are you thinking?” She all but yells through the outdoor terrace of the restaurant I reserved weeks ago, specifically for this moment.
Getting up from bended knee and shoving the small square box deep into my pocket, I fall back into my seat. My seat at the table with the candle-lit setting that she continues standing next to, looking down on me in disbelief.
I don’t like the way this feels.
Her standing above me. Looking down on me.
I sense people staring at us, and I can hear their whispers.
Why isn’t she sitting down? I am this close to my emotions getting the better of me.
The kind of emotions I’m not used to feeling.
“Why don’t you have a seat? If you don’t want attention, you might want to sit down.” I can hear the terseness in my voice.
It’s taking everything I have to keep my ass in my seat and not to flee the bloody scene before me. I force myself to resist because there is no need to cause a bigger scene than we already have.
She finally sits.
“Liam, honey…I thought you knew we weren’t serious. I thought you were just having fun too?”
“Clearly, you thought wrong,” is all I can muster.
I feel my rage boiling under the surface, and I know if I say much more, the scene I’m trying to avoid will likely take place.
Her smile hasn’t left her face since her hysterical fit of laughter. It’s almost as if she’s enjoying herself and finding the entire ordeal hilarious.
“Liam, we have fun together and you’re great in bed— I mean really great—but there has never been any long term possibility for us.” She tilts her head and looks at me like I’m a child she has to talk down to so I understand the words that are coming out of her mouth.
How could I have been so wrong about us?
She can see the confusion on my face and shakes her head, taking my hand and patting it to placate me. Smile still in place.
“Sweetie, please don’t take this the wrong way…but you aren’t really the marrying kind. You’re the kind of guy a girl dates to get under her parents’ skin.”
I rip my hand out from underneath hers. Is this really happening right now?
She sits back in her chair, relaxed and chipper as can be. “My parents already hope I’ll marry my dad’s business associate’s son. A son with blue blood, and I know that chapter of my life is right around the corner. That’s where you came in. I was making sure I had as much fun as I could with a regular guy before it was time to settle down. Once that happens, my life with be filled with dinner parties, babies, and boring sex.”
And the hits just keep coming. “You mean a regular guy who will get under her parents’ skin. That’s what all of this...” I say, motioning my hand between the two of us. “…has been about?”
“Listen, I know you make good money and you treat me well, but you’re new money, darlin’, and that’s just not quite the same thing. It’s not what my family and I are looking for. You know how it is.” “I do now.” “Liam, again no offense but do you really see me having little brown babies running around the club? My parents would be mortified.” She chuckles.
Holy fuck! This is about my skin color. Who the fuck is she?
I raise my hand to let our server know we’re ready for our check. I think I’ve had about enough, and it’s time to go. “Oh, come on Liam. You don’t have to be a baby and cut the night short. You’re a big tough guy. It’s not like you actually popped the question. You didn’t ask me anything, and I didn’t decline any offers. Let’s just forget the whole thing.” She leans forward and looks up and down the small menu in front of her. “Besides, I haven’t ordered my dessert yet.”
Her fucking dessert? She must be out of her fucking mind!
The server brings the check to the table, and I’ve already got my card out. While I wait for him to return my card, I stare out at the lake in front of me. I can’t look at her face another minute.
I just want out of this fucking restaurant. Now.
I sign the receipt once my card is returned to me. I stand and pull out her chair without looking at her. She stands on a huff. “You’re being a baby, Liam.”
I don’t reply.
Not sure what I would say to the racist bitch that pretty much just told me I was beneath her. That I’m a joke she was using to piss her parents off.
Yep, not sure there’s anything to say that won’t lead to me getting arrested.
I walk ahead of her and straight to the valet. I can hear her stomping behind me, mumbling under her breath, and I could not give two shits.
She stands next to me but neither of us speak. She’s texting someone. I’m sure she’s telling her hysterical story to all of her little friends and laughing at my expense.
Where is my fucking car?
I hear her giggle at something just as my car is parked in front of us. I tip the valet and walk around to the driver’s side of the car and get in. She stands outside the passenger side door and for a minute has the nerve to act appalled that I haven’t gotten back out to open her door for her.
She’ll be waiting a long fucking time.
Eventually, she gets the message and lets herself in. The moment she slams the door shut, I take off. I couldn’t care less that she doesn’t have her seat belt on. I just need to get her home, out of my car, and out of my God-damned life.
As we pull into her driveway, she takes off her seat belt. Her hand trails up my thigh, and she grabs my cock. If she thinks that she will ever get me hard for her again she is sorely mistaken. I lift her hand off me and drop it in her lap. She disgusts me.
“Honey, if my money and my skin color aren’t good enough for you then my dick surely isn’t. Play time is over.” I put the car in park and reach in front of her and open her door for her instead of walking around the car and opening it. “You have a nice night.”
And get the fuck out of my car!
She pouts for a moment and then steps out of the car, but before she closes the door, she leans in and says, “Thanks for dinner…”
I jolt up in my bed, dripping in sweat and feeling like I might get sick.
Fuck this dream…or shall I say nightmare. It’s been months since that laugh has haunted my sleep, and I do not plan on letting it taunt me again. I need a drink.
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