Chapter 4
The Red Room was the one place that screamed sex from the name to the food that was served down to the signs in the parking lot. Her internet research told her it was the most exclusive restaurant with a limited number of guests per night, a setting that turned on any person with just a bite of the food served. The place intimidated her even though she had never been there. She knew from reading about it that she could never dare step inside, not only because she couldn’t think of anyone to go there with, but because she wanted to pay her rent and buy food for the rest of the year.
“The one on California Avenue?” She tried not to show how shaken she was on the inside. Her nerves were raw making her feel exposed and vulnerable in front of him. It didn’t help that the famous Christian Grey of Fifty Shades had his own Red Room, a sexual torture chamber.
“There is only one Red Room in the country,” he taunted.
She didn’t respond and gripped the steering wheel firmly.
“Are they open already?” The question rolled off her lips hoping to sound nonchalant.
“I need to be there for a meeting before they open tonight.” His voice was smooth.
“What do you do for them?” She couldn’t figure out why she couldn’t stop talking. She was asking questions which she knew the answers to already.
“Not much, I just own the place.”
She started humming Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star as she pulled into the parking lot to calm her nerves.
“You can pull into that reserved spot.” He directed her toward the far left of the parking lot.
“I don’t need to park. I can pull up front.”
“Are you scared you will give in to the temptation?” He smiled making her shudder at his words. She wondered if he meant her temptation for him or the specialty desserts served at The Red Room. It didn’t matter, and she decided not to leave the safety of her car.
“No, I’m fine. I have to go.” Her voice was hesitant because her body throbbed with a longing to reach out and touch him.
“Can I get you the dessert of the day to try?” His voice was insistent.
“Some other time,” she stuttered, desperate to run away.
“Mantra… you are the first person to take a rain check for one of the awesome desserts served at The Red Room.” He laughed putting her slightly at ease.
“Okay, small bite. I need to watch what I eat.” She smiled pulling into the reserved parking spot.
“You are beautiful the way you are.” He lazily scanned her face like he did the night at the bar. She went stiff as if cold water had been splashed on her face. Her exterior froze, but her insides turned to molten lava when she realized he complimented her. She was used to admiring looks, but never flat-open admiration. She swallowed hard and didn’t attempt to prolong the conversation.
She pulled her shirt lower over her so-called curves as she stepped out of the car. She made it a point to walk behind him, so she didn’t feel like he was caressing her butt with his eyes. A sliver of dirty pleasure ran through her at the thought of his large palm on her soft body, specifically her butt.
He led her toward a walkway at the side of the building, and she took the opportunity to admire the way his jeans clung to his back, again. It was his body that made her check him out in the first place at the bar that night.
The small pathway led to a fence gate, and her mind went on high alert and wondered if she should follow him. He was a hot piece of ass, but he could be a psycho killer.
She pulled her phone out and texted Samar.
Mantra: At THE Red Room, remind me to tell you everything about it.
Her phone continually buzzed as she followed him to what seemed like a residence tucked away behind the restaurant.
“Do you live here?”
“I do now.” He turned to look down at her. It was a novel feeling for her to have someone look at her with their eyes drooped. At five-foot-nine, she had never felt small, but walking behind him made her feel little. He was at least half a foot taller and had the broadest expanse of shoulders she had seen on a man. He could take her with no effort, and she wondered if she secretly hoped for him to overpower her—she was intrigued by the thought of being held helpless in his arms.
She followed him through what looked like a secret doorway and stepped into a living room with high ceilings, skylights, and a wall of windows. The place was bright and airy making the creepy feeling evaporate.
“Can I get you a pastry?”
“No, I seriously don’t need any pastry now.”
“Will you say no if I offered you a drink?” He smirked walking toward the massive island in the kitchen. The kitchen spread over the majority of the space in front of her. It was open and looked extremely futuristic.
“Soda works,” she said leaning against the island as he moved around in the kitchen. She watched him as he made small talk while making her a custom soda drink. He was talking, but all she could focus on was his hands, his large palms, and long fingers as they moved and touched the ingredients like they were delicate flowers. His very touch was erotic.
Shit!
She swallowed and looked into his eyes as he was looking right at her and caught her staring at his hands. She was sure he was convinced she was staring at his crotch.
“Do you like what you see?” He had a devious tone to his voice.
“Umm…”
“What have you been up to lately?” He wasn’t necessarily looking at her, but she felt her cheeks heat up just to respond to his question.
“I am working on my thesis.”
“Doctorate?” He looked at her in amazement.
“Hopefully, someday, but Masters for now.”
“What area?” he asked adding ice to a cup.
“Psychology… seamless couples’ therapy.” She held his gaze as he walked toward her with her drink.
“Interesting… I’d like to hear more about why you picked that for your thesis. This is a fresh lime—ginger soda with a touch of cayenne.”
“Oh… you are not the first person to ask me about that, but I know how important therapy is…” Her voice trailed off when he started to shake his head, tauntingly.
“Why?” His voice held a lot of mockery that cut through her haze.
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you wasting your time with couples’ therapy? People either stay or walk away if it doesn’t work out.”
She took a deep breath not wanting to lash out at him. He wasn’t the first person to question her choice of topic for her thesis. Her professor, parents, and even friends suggested she choose something different. She didn’t want to pick just any topic. She believed in couples needing help from time to time, and her thesis was about providing the therapy outside a therapist’s office. She believed it made it easier for couples to seek the help they needed and not feel embarrassed or awkward about seeing a therapist.
“It’s a variation of couples’ therapy.” She took a slow and deep breath to stay calm.
He took a step closer to her and handed her the drink.
“If you and I were a couple, do you think we’d need therapy?” His tone was flat.
He came so close all she could smell was him. His masculinity consumed her lungs making her feel high. She looked into his eyes questioning his intentions.
“With what we have between us, we’ll never need therapy.” His words carried mockery.
“I’ll never be with someone like you.” She stepped back.
He laughed making her want to slap him—a voice inside her encouraged her so she could feel his skin.
“Stop wasting your time on couples’ therapy. It is stupid.”
Her body shook as her ego shattered into a million pieces, and she chastised herself for finding him attractive. The attraction was undeniable, and she knew it could be fatal.
“You are wrong, and it doesn’t matter to me what you think about what I do. I hope never to see you again.” She walked away from him.
“Mantra!” he called out making her stop at the door. “You are the wildest thing I’ve met in my life. There is no escape from me.”
All she could think about was sticking out her long middle finger, but she left without turning back to look at him. She ran to the safety of her car and was out of there in minutes. She hoped never to see him again and never be in a situation where she was taunted for her life choices by the most dreadfully good-looking bastard.