Kyle took me to Celeste, a three-floor restaurant in his neighborhood. The host escorted us up the stairs to the deco room with warm tones and buttery light, most likely from the gold coated ceiling. It was a narrow space, small tables on one side and the bar on the other. It was also crowded and loud, yet still felt intimate as we slipped into our seats at the small, round table.
“What are your motivations, counselor?” I ran the pad of my finger along the rim of my martini.
“My motivations?”
“You always hold your business meetings in romantic restaurants?”
“This place is romantic? I hadn’t even thought about it.”
So obviously a lie.
“Business,” I reminded, my tone pointed. We’d had plenty of small talk on the drive over here, and I still didn’t get what game he was playing. If you want to date me, just fucking date me already.
Kyle took a sip of his Old Fashioned, and leaned forward so he didn’t have to speak too loudly over the din of the crowd. “The man I went shopping with last week, he’s asked to meet you.”
My finger stopped its path on the rim and my brain went haywire. The mystery Dominant wanted to meet me? For what? Before I could come up with anything, Kyle spoke again.
“Let me rephrase. He and his fiancée are interested in getting to know us better. Maybe even . . . playing with us.”
Holy hell.
Something like unexpected excitement fluttered through me. Not just the thought of another couple, but the way the word had rolled so casually out of Kyle’s mouth. Us.
But I instantly had so many questions. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“That’s up to you. If you’re interested, we’d discuss our boundaries, and I’d take those back to him. He and I would go over what everyone’s comfortable with.”
My heartbeat picked up, galloping along almost as fast as my thoughts. The word play could encompass so much. What was I comfortable with? What about Kyle? “How do you feel about the idea?”
His smile was soft and seductive. “It has appeal.” His blue eyes scanned my face. “And you?”
It was like negotiations, neither of us wanting to completely tip our hand. “Yes.” My tone mocked his professional one. “I also find the idea appealing.”
He leaned back in his seat, his hand wrapped around his drink, and his fingertips played with the condensation there. It was impossible not to think about the night he’d put his glass of bourbon on me, and I shuddered with flashback pleasure. Did he know what he was doing to me?
“Can I ask a shallow question?” I felt guilty, but I needed to know. “Have you met the fiancée? Are they attractive?”
“Yeah, I have, and it’s not shallow of you to ask. He asked the same about you.” Kyle’s expression was serious. “Attraction is important.”
Don’t hold out on me, Kyle. “Okay, so . . .?”
“I think most women would say he’s attractive, and she’s very pretty.”
I didn’t mean it to sound jealous or vain, it was more out of curiosity. “Is she better looking than me?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve always preferred brunettes, and she’s younger than us—” His hand darted into his sport coat and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, followed by a pen. “I’m getting ahead of myself.”
“What’s that?” My heart fell into my stomach. I didn’t want another partnership agreement, and certainly not one that included strangers.
“I mentioned my friend likes his privacy.” The paper was unfolded, set on the table, and slid toward me. “It’s an NDA.”
Relief washed calm through my system.
I reviewed the non-disclosure agreement quickly, seeing it was pretty standard, but who was this guy? Or how kinky did he anticipate it getting that he needed an NDA? I scribbled out my signature and the date, folded it up, and handed it over. I said it like a joke although it wasn’t. “Is he famous?”
“No. Joseph is just a cautious businessman who likes to keep a low profile.”
It made sense. If he was successful, his extra-curricular activities getting out could have a negative impact on potential clients.