Temptation
(Darcy)
“It is. Have a seat.” He pulls one of the chairs out for me and I go into autopilot. I sit down, he slides in my chair. My hands stay folded on my lap, half under the table. My head stays fixed in position, and my eyes stay fixed, staring straight ahead. The movements are all very robotic.
Liam comes into my view and sits opposite me.
“Are we the only two people attending the event?”
“It’s hard to drum up a lot of people at such short notice.”
“So this is some kind of date then?”
“It would appear to be.”
Great, I don’t do second dates, so this is our one and only. Do I tell him that?
From somewhere, the man who’d brought us the gin and tonics appears and fills one of my many glasses with water. He fills the one next to it with sparkling water and does the same to Liam.
After disappearing, he returns mere seconds later with a bottle of white wine, which he pours into the smallest glasses on the table. He vanishes again, but I don’t turn my head to see where he goes. I keep it fixed ahead of me.
“Cheers,” Liam picks up his glass of wine and clinks it to mine, which is still untouched in its position on the table. Fuck it. I pick up the glass of wine and take a gulp.
I keep my glass in my hand and say, “Still waiting on the explanation.”
“Like I told you downstairs, I had to make sure I still wanted you in the morning.”
“Oh, right, the Champagne goggles thing. How I could I forget?”
He shakes his head. “It’s not like that.”
“Well, did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Still want me in the morning?” I try not to care what the answer is. I can’t care, I have no intention of seeing him again.
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“I’m sure lots of girls have been here.”
“Not true. You’re the first one.”
“You always go back to their place?”
“I have a small place down on the fifth floor.”
“What? Like a fuck pad?” Unbelievable. The guy keeps a multi-million-dollar apartment to fuck women in.
He shrugs, “Pretty much.”
The butler-waiter man, or whoever he is, appears with two plates and he sets one down in front of each of us.
“I never figured you for a salad man.”
“I’m not. I decided on the menu for you, not me.”
“How very selfless of you.”
“I try.” His winks at me and the candlelight flickers in his eyes.
“Are you going to tell me why you don’t bring people here? I mean, it’s not like you don’t have the room for them.”
“I don’t want anyone seeing how I live.”
“You make it sound like you live like a hermit.”
“No, I’m just private.”
“Hermit.”
“People are assholes, I can’t trust just anyone.”
“Can you trust me?”
“That’s why you’re here.”
“Am I supposed to be flattered? I’ve made it directly past the fuck pad and straight into the palace?”
We descend into silence, turning our attention to our salads. Juice from pomegranate seeds hidden in the leaves surprises and refreshes me.
The butler-waiter man reappears. My eyes follow him as he takes our plates and disappears into the shrubbery. I want to follow him to see his secret path.
“Do you trust him?”
“Who?”
“The guy bringing us the food.”
“Not really.”
“And the doorman? I take it you don’t trust him either.”
“Nope. How could you tell?”
“He called you Mr. Jones. And we both know Jones isn’t your last name.” The light-hearted smile disappears from his face, and Liam motions with his hands for me to lower my voice.
“Please, don’t let Jasper hear you.”
“Sorry. I don’t want to blow your cover. Is that what it is? Are you a spy? Am I sitting with the real Jason Bourne?”
The smile reappears on his face right as Jasper appears with our main courses.
“Thanks, Jasper. That’s everything for tonight.”
“What? No dessert?” I ask.
“I can handle that myself,” he says with a playful smile.
“Don’t get too sure of yourself.” I have to remind myself that I’m not here to get sucked into his vortex. As nice as it would be to have him suck on me, I won’t. I am only here to have the night he denied me on Saturday. I glance down to make sure my cleavage is still looking its best.
“How’s your chicken?”
“Nice.”
“You haven’t tried it yet.”
In exaggeration, I make a show of cutting off a piece and chewing.
I swallow and say, “It’s nice.”
He watches me eat a few more bites. Chicken is always so meh, but this is the tastiest piece of chicken I’ve eaten in a long time.
“Not hungry?” I ask. He’s holding his knife and fork, but has only eaten a few bites.
“Just waiting for the best time to give you your explanation.”
“What happened to Champagne goggles being the reason?”
“Champagne goggles was never the reason.”
I set my knife and fork down. “Okay, what’s the real reason?”
“I wanted you to know the truth about me before progressing with our relationship.” I reel at his mention of the word relationship. I don’t do relationships.
“Uh-huh,” I mutter noncommittally.
“I needed to make sure I’m serious about you. Because I suspected I was. I am. I had to know for sure.” Serious. That means relationship, and I don’t do that.
“You had to find out by not sleeping with me?”
“Yes. It’s a sort of metric I set for myself. I’ve only tested it out on one other woman, and she failed.”
“Let me guess, I passed and that’s why I got to skip the fifth floor.” I fold my arms across me, just under my breasts.
“When you put it like that…”
“Do I get a prize?”
“Am I not a good-enough prize?” My eyes shift over his body, wanting to unwrap the tux like a candy wrapper and expose his muscles underneath.
“I’ve had worse.”
“Worse men?”
“No. Prizes. Crackerjack ones always used to disappoint me. And don’t even get me started on Lucky Charms.” He roars with laughter, that same smooth tone as before drifts around me like a giant hug.
“I want to enter this relationship with you knowing everything about me. I don’t want to found this on a lie.” Again with the relationship talk.
“Liam,” I say, weighted with guilt.
“Let me finish. I keep my identity a secret because I have a lot of money.”
“I can tell.”
I feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet right now. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have come tonight. Kirsten talked me into seeing him again, and for a small moment I believed I could. But as much as I want him to pull me over this table and into his lap, all this feels too much like a relationship. It scares the hell out of me. I can’t do this.