"What are you craving?" he asks. I don't know why, but I get the feeling he's not just talking about the menu.
"You tell me,” I say. “You’re the one who can read people’s desires."
Brian summons the server back to our table. "We'll take one of everything."
My eyes go wide. " No, th
at's too much."
"You don't think you can handle it?" He winks at me, just in case I doubted the intention behind his double entendre.
“That’s not the point,” I say. In truth, I am still hungry, but I’ve already tallied up our bill twice. The entrees alone have put us well into the triple digits. "You've spoiled me enough.”
"Miss Ruby, if you think this is spoiling you, you haven't been spoiled a day in your life." He brushes my hair behind my ear in a gesture that's as comforting as it is butterfly inducing. "I look forward to changing that."
Why? The question sits like a weight on my tongue. Why would this handsome, rich, much older man take more than a passing interest in an average girl like me? I'm not hideous, but I'm no Instagram model, and I recently had to start buying size fourteen jeans. What could an average American teenager with daddy issues have to offer a successful Aussie billionaire, who could no doubt have any woman he wants?
"You look like you're trying to work out an equation," he says. "But I promise, there's no mystery variable to solve for. I like you very much, Ruby. It's as simple and complex as that."
Two waiters carpet our table with a variety of delicious-looking dishes. Brian and I indulge ourselves in chocolate and custard on tiny hand-rolled truffles and scoops of buttery soufflé. He scoops the last bit of gelato onto his spoon and holds it out to me.
Without thinking, I take the spoon into my mouth.
“Good girl,” Brian says, and my insides light up like fireworks across a night sky. It’s a feeling I don’t fully understand, arousal mixed with pride and satisfaction.
Outside, I let him take my hand as we make our way to the car. Naturally, our hands begin swinging back and forth, slowly at first, and then faster. I catch myself giggling. My parents used to do something similar when I was little: each of them taking hold of one of my hands and then lifting me off the ground between them.
“Thank you,” he says to me.
“What for?” He can’t be talking about the extravagant dinner he just paid for.
“For being such charming company.”
“Oh...” Warmth fills my cheeks. “Thanks.” I don’t know how he’s doing it, but for the first time since I got here, I feel like everything is going to be all right. Maybe not forever, or even tomorrow, but tonight, I can rest easy knowing that somebody actually wants me here.
I expect Brian to let go of my hand as we duck inside the car, but he doesn’t. If anything, he holds me tighter. On the way to my dad’s house, he makes a point of noting all the best places to grab breakfast and go dancing. He steals glances at my cleavage, but for the most part he watches my face, reading my thoughts with eyes that seem capable of reaching inside me.
I can’t decide if he wants to fuck me, or if he just wants to take care of me—and I’m honestly not sure which option I’d prefer. I’m as inexperienced as it gets, but I know how it feels when a guy is just trying to get into my pants. Brian looks at me like he wants to take off my pants, then give me a bubble bath, then spend the rest of the night making me dirty again.
As we pull up in front of my dad’s house, Brian goes quiet. I can feel him watching me again, but I’m struck by a sudden shyness. I don’t want to say goodnight, though practically speaking, I have no reason to take up any more of his time.
“Thank you for dinner,” I tell him.
“It was my pleasure, Miss Ruby.” He runs his thumb across my knuckles. "I’d like to come in and see you off to bed.”
Yes, my mind shouts. Please, take me to bed. But then I think about what my dad would say, if he came home to find his boss and his daughter in bed. I don’t want to give him an excuse to send me back to California—which comes as a shock, considering I was planning my escape just a few hours ago.
From the moment I met Brian, there was an undeniable connection, and an overwhelming attraction between us. I can't explain why I feel so safe and comfortable with this relative stranger, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s the real reason I came down here.
He squeezes my hand after a long, taut moment. "I've asked Liz to text me the moment your dad leaves the office, which shouldn’t be anytime soon, considering the sizable project I’ve given him. We won’t be disturbed.”
My awareness narrows to the comforting warmth of his hand around mine. Disturbed while doing what? I meet his gaze and my breath hitches at the intensity there. But my attention snags on something he just told me. Why would he give my dad more work to do right before he was supposed to take me to dinner? Was it a coincidence that we ran into each other on my way out of the building, or had Brian been waiting for me in the lobby?
“You gave my dad another project?”
He knits our fingers together. “I did.”
“But, why?”