Virgin…
Christ, how could she possibly think I’d be turned off by that? Is she stupid or naïve or both? Or just playing games with me. For someone who’s as good with people as I am, this girl’s sure got my head spinning.
And what a mouth she’s got on her. The spunk!
The fucking bitch slapped me in front of everybody! That would be enough to get her fired and blacklisted, but I felt my cock getting hard right after. And it’s not some sort of BDSM thing either; it’s her attitude. This is a girl who takes no shit from anybody, and maybe that’s why I’m actually giving her a chance to prove herself to me. No typical gold-digger would swing for the fences with a move like that. She’s either an evil genius or a completely innocent girl who let her emotions get ahold of her.
I’m praying it’s the second one.
She called me the Grinch earlier, and maybe she was right, because my heart does feel like it’s growing as I sit next to her on the way to the restaurant. Part of me wants to tell the driver just to take us back to my penthouse, but that would be a stupid move. The whole point of this “date” is to vet Faith, see what her game is (if she even has one) and then make my move. Not the other way around. But fuck if it isn’t going to be near impossible to keep my hands off her.
When I think of Andy’s hands on her, I ball my fists at my side. Just the thought of another man with her makes me want to break something. Andy wouldn’t give two shits about it being her first time. He’d treat her just like another one of his girls. Same routine. Same bullshit.
No. She deserves more. Much more.
Jesus, what am I doing? This girl is already getting to me, making me feel things I never thought I’d feel again. You can’t be soft in my profession. Even if I am selling candy, my competition is tough, and one sign of weakness and the sharks will see blood in the water. I can’t afford to lose focus or everything I’ve built could come crashing down.
“Going to wine and dine me?” Faith asks as the car slows at the restaurant. I glance over and try to ignore her beauty.
“Tsk-tsk.” I shake my head at her. “This is you trying to impress me, princess. Not the other way around.”
Faith’s eyes narrow. “Princess?”
Smiling, I get out of the car and do what my driver would normally do; I hold the door open for her. I extend a hand to help her out, but she ignores it completely. I catch a whiff of her scent as she passes, and my eyes focus on the perfect shifting of her hips as the light from the city catches her voluptuous figure. If God made a sexier woman, he kept her for himself.
I’m happy to follow behind her, as it means I get to keep my eyes on her ass. Fuck, if I could bend her over and spread her open right now I would. Right in front of everybody. But I can’t. I have to control myself.
She glances back at me to see if I’m going to hold the door for her. “After that slap, princess? You can hold it for me.”
She glares but then does exactly that. I don’t even bother looking at her; I just walk right in like she’s the doorwoman. I know it pisses her off and can hear an almost silent puff of air escape her lips as I pass, but she doesn’t say anything.
This place takes reservations three weeks in advance, but the maître d’ knows me and immediately seats us. I look at Faith to see if she’s impressed. If she is, she isn’t showing it.
“Good work.” I nod with approval.
“What’s that?”
“Pretending like this doesn’t impress you.”
Faith shrugs. “Maybe I’m not just some gold-digging whore like you thought?”
“We’ll see.” I wink.
A waiter comes over, and I let Faith order first, just to see what she does. She doesn’t order the foie gras or the caviar and doesn’t even order champagne. Instead, she just gets a salad and some ice water.
“Really? I bring you to one of the best restaurants in the state and you order something you could get at Olive Garden?”
Again, she shrugs. Yeah, it could just be part of her game to rope me in, but I am getting the feeling that it’s more than that. She actually does want to prove something to me, but I’m not sure what just yet.
“Okay, so are you going to go crying to your daddy when we’re done here? Tell him just how badly I treated his precious little daughter?”
I scan her face for a reaction, searching for the truth. And honestly, she looks pissed.
“I didn’t even want this job,” she replies. I wasn’t expecting that.
“No? What’s your dream?” I tease. “Instagram model?”
“Actually,” she replies haughtily, “I want to start my own candy company.”