Chapter 8

After two hours of prepping with Evelyn, I must say I look absolutely stunning. The dress fits me perfectly, hugging the subtle curves I have, with a drooping neckline giving the slightest glimpse of cleavage. My long hair is pulled back into a stylish chignon, putting my new earrings on full display, and Evelyn has even perfected the barely there make-up I love so much. My entire adult life people have mistaken me for a model, but tonight I actually feel like one.

“You look gorgeous,” Warren whispers in my ear as he leads me through the dimly lit restaurant with his hand on the small of my back. We’re at Lincoln Steakhouse in the city, the red and black décor matches my outfit.

“Oh shit! Just brought a model to dinner!” A blond man exclaims as we make our way to the private table. He’s dressed in a black tailored suit, his tie loosened and his face a bit red, probably from the whiskey he seems to be downing.

“Everyone, this is Christina. Christina, everyone,” Warren jokingly introduces me to the table. There are two other couples already seated including the loud blond man in the black suit, who has a beautiful blonde woman to his right. The other couple looks to be a bit older, the man has dark brown hair, while his gorgeous wife has long jet black waves tumbling down her shoulder.

“Don’t you just love their spring collection? I got this in every color. I had to,” the blonde woman says as I sit down. It takes me a long moment to realize she’s commenting on my dress, and I nod and smile in acknowledgement, choosing not to tell her about Warren gifting the dress to me only hours ago.

“So what do you do, Christina? Runway or print?” The dark-haired woman asks from across the table.

“Oh, I’m not a model. I work with children,” I clarify as Warren pours us both a glass of red wine.

“So, you’re a trust-funder? Yeah, my wife does a bit of charity work as well,” the man dotes over his wife before running his fingers through her obsidian hair.

“I wish I could say it’s charity, but it’s actually what I do for a living,” my voice is small, my breathing erratic. I don’t think I’ve ever been so anxious in my life.

“Wait. You’re a teacher?” The blond man holds up his hand, looking around the table in disbelief.

“Yes,” I nod while I speak, my nervous tick kicking in as I grab my glass of wine and take a large gulp.

“So, Warren, you’re doing the fucking charity!” The blond man exclaims and the table erupts in laughter. To my complete horror, when I glance over to Warren, he is smirking as if he thinks this asshole is funny. I want the floor to open and suck me in.

“Excuse me,” I force a smile as I rush to my feet, pushing my chair out as I hurry out of the restaurant, tears stinging my eyes.

Racing through the front doors, I take a deep breath of the humid summer air before looking in each direction down the street. We’ve got to be blocks from a train station, and these pumps are killing my feet, but there’s no way I’m sitting at a dinner with a group of pretentious assholes.

“Christina!” I hear from behind me, and turning around, I see Warren stalking in my direction.

Trying to ignore the pain from the heels, I force myself to walk as quickly as possible, but Warren is now jogging after me so I opt to hail a cab instead. Luckily, there’s one passing, and I open the door to hop in and make my escape.

“What are you doing?” I hear the frustration in his voice as his fingers wrap tightly around my bicep. He’s caught me before I could climb into the backseat.

“You coming or what?” The driver yells nastily.

“Yes,” I answer him, tugging my arm, but Warren doesn’t budge.

“No, you’re not.” He says flatly and definitively.

“Warren, I’ll never fit in with your friends, and I’ll never be okay with you allowing anyone to speak to me that way,” I begin and he clenches his jaw tightly. “You laughed at me right along with them,” I accuse.

“I was caught off guard, Christina. I’ve never even been on a fucking date, I didn’t know what to do. I should’ve said something. I fucked up. I’m sorry,” he grabs my other arm, so that I’m forced to face him, but my eyes wander, unwilling to be sucked into his dark gaze.

“I’m not what you want. I’m a teacher who has never had a Gucci dress in her life. You don’t even want to go on dates!” I yell, reminding him of his guidelines once again.

“I want you, Christina,” he grasps my chin, raising my head so I’m forced to look into those piercing eyes of his. “I don’t care about them, I just wanted to take you out, because I know that’s what you want. I’ll give you anything in this world, and get rid of anything that doesn’t fit. I just want you,” his words and his gaze leave me speechless as I look on in shock.

“So, you do want to be my boyfriend?” I tease him with a tilt of my head.

“I want to be your everything, but more than anything, I want to rip that dress off you,” he bites his bottom lip as the side of his mouth curls upwards into that seductive smirk.

“I knew you were trouble, Mr. Just,” I shake my head, piercing my lips to stop the grin from spreading across my face.

His lips are on me before I can say another word, his tongue capitalizing on my gasp of shock, sliding into my mouth with the fresh taste of mint and red wine. Lifting onto the tips of my toes, I lean into his kiss, as his hand cradles the nape of my neck. Our bodies close in, drawn together like two magnets, as a rush of electricity courses through my body, a hunger for him building in my belly. There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be, no one’s arms I’d prefer wrapped around me.

“Come on, lady! Are you leaving?” The driver interrupts our connection.

“Yes! One-Five-Seven!” I yell, climbing into the backseat, pulling Warren into the car behind me.