Okay, now I’m really feeling shallow. And here it comes, the polite return question that I suddenly don’t want to answer.
She gives me an open smile. “What do you do?”
I give a shrug. “I sell shoes.”
Her brow furrows. “Like at a shoe store? Not to be rude, but they must be some pretty high-end shoes? I don’t think that would pay for a penthouse apartment.”
I shake my head. “No, I own a company that sells a shoe I created. Rawley’s? It’s a high-end sneaker for the dressier occasions.” Stupid. I sound like an idiot.
Her face brightens. “Oh, that’s really cool. I like that. Can I see them sometime?”
“Sure. But enough about me. I want to know everything about you.” I commence grilling her, getting all the information I can from her.
She longed to take dance lessons as a child, but with a sick grandmother on a limited income it was out of the question, so she taught herself on videos she checked out from the library. She loves sugary treats, but tries to limit herself to only on the weekends. Her favorite color is blush pink, and when she tells me so, she tugs on the strap of the bra I bought her, showing it to me.
I grin. Noted.
She’s never been out of the country but would love to travel, and she has one true love in her life. An old, orange tabby cat named Mr. Whiskers. For some reason, a shadow crosses her face when she mentions him. I wonder if he’s sick or dying or something, but I don’t press.
Our food comes, and she gets down to business, dividing each meal in half, slicing her butter knife right down the center of each plate. She slides half of each dish onto my empty plate, serving me with reverence.
Adorable.
“There we go. Perfectly even.”
So she’s either a perfectionist or highly dedicated to fairness. Maybe both.
I suddenly have a new respect for my food. I follow her lead, taking small bites, savoring each one.
When she’s done, she dabs the corners of her mouth, folding her napkin on the table. She sits back in her seat, letting out a long, satisfied sigh. “That. Was delicious.”
The waiter comes, and I ask for a coffee refill for each of us, drawing this date out. I’m just not ready to leave. “So, what do you want to do with the rest of your day?”
“What do you mean? I thought we’d go back to the penthouse. You know, earn my keep.” She waggles her brows.
The thought of paying her makes my gut twist.
Not that I mind spending the money, I just don’t want to keep being reminded that this is a business deal. I pick up my phone. Send a text to Sam, transferring another fifteen grand to the service. I slide my phone back in my pocket. “I’ve just paid for the next twenty-four hours, the same amount as the first. Now, please, no more talking money.”
“Got it. And…that was very generous of you. Thank you.” She flushes pink, her voice lowering a bit. “I can’t tell you what this means to me.”
“Of course.” I wink at her. “Thank you.”
I find an annoying thought, niggling at the back of my mind. If she calls me daddy again, will it be fake because she knows I’m paying her through the Sugar Daddies Escort Service, and assume I expect that from her? Or will it be real?
I find my stomach turning at the idea of her faking it. But, damn, I also really love our dynamic and want to have her as my babygirl, even if it is only temporary. Finally, I decide, I have to have it be real, or not have it all.
Reaching across the table, I grab her hand. “I know you’re signed up with Sugar Daddies and there are certain...expectations...that come with that, but if you want to drop the whole daddy, babygirl thing, we totally can.”
Her cheeks pinken and she looks away. “I, uhm, well…”
“Tell me. What do you want?” I give her hand a squeeze.
She pulls away, burying her face in her hands.
This is it, where she admits it was all an act.
She brings her hands down, forcing herself to meet my gaze. “I...I... loved it. I mean, I’ve never done that with someone before and I don’t know, it just felt...right. Like a part of me has been hiding and it finally came to the surface. And now I can’t deny it...not that I want to. Do you know what I mean?”
Holy shit, do I ever. I give a cool grin. “Yeah. I get it. So we’ll keep it.” I shift in my seat, my pants suddenly too tight.
I change the subject. “Tell me, what do you want to do with your day? I’m guessing you haven’t gotten to see much of the town, with all the studying you’ve been doing. What’s on your bucket list?”