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I kept my eyes forward, though I felt the gaze of others following my journey toward the private room near the back of the restaurant. By now, the manager had been alerted of my arrival, and the waitstaff was crossing their fingers, praying I wasn't seated in their section.
I said a prayer of my own, but nothing prepared me for the glimpse of her.
Her dark locks, free and loose last night, were divided into two braids that weaved to the crown of her head. It drew the eye to the sultry line of her neck. My eyes swept across the soft, chocolate curls that grazed her skin.
My cock pulsed as I remembered the way it felt to wrap my fingers around her neck and feel her swallow as she looked up at me with those trusting blue eyes. I was tangled up in memories and sensations, my nostrils flaring indignantly as we moved closer. Did she have to wear a black dress that dipped so low in the back, material criss crossing against her fair skin? Did she have to massage the neck that I was staring at, longing for, like she felt my gaze on her? When the hostess announced my arrival, did she have to whip her head to the doorway, like she'd been waiting with bated breath for me to show up? Did she have to drink me up, those beautiful damn eyes of hers brightening with hope before she bit her beautiful damn bottom lip in a way that made my stomach flip flop?
I didn't even notice that there were other people in the room until some lean, shaggy haired man blocked my view of her. He extended his hand to shake mine.
"Mr. O'Connell, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with us." When I didn't shake his hand, he ruffled it through his messy dark hair with a nervous chuckle instead. "I'm Peter Rhodes."
I nodded in acknowledgement, trying to act indifferent, but it was in vain when I locked eyes with Sophia. She rose from her chair, gliding over and coming to a stop beside Peter, practically shoulder to shoulder. Jealousy flashed through me like a bolt of lightning and I flicked my eyes between them. Even he seemed a little surprised by her proximity and when she took a tiny step to her left, it just fanned the bite of curiosity. Who was this guy? And more, what was this urge to take a step in her direction and let him know what was what?
Some man stands beside a woman that's not even yours, that you don't even know beyond the lies she's told, and you're ready to deck him?
My sister was right...coming here was a mistake.
"And I'm Sophia," she said quickly, red pinching her cheeks. She wisely didn't hold out her hand for me to shake, but I felt a jolt of nostalgia regardless, remembering how taken aback I’d been when she'd jerked her hand out the night we met.
"Are you now?" I said, the words seeping from behind clenched teeth.
Now Peter looked back and forth between the two of us, confused.
The hostess was long gone, replaced by a waitress whose voice squeaked as loudly as my nerves.
"Can I get you anything to drink, Mr. O'Connell?"
"The magazine is covering lunch of course," Peter chirped, and when Sophia shot him a look, he shrugged, like he was doing me a favor.
"I can certainly afford my own drink." Under normal circumstances, I would have added a chuckle, a gleam in the eye, or a smirk to signify that I was joking, but I didn't bother.
Sophia flashed me a strained grimace and I mirrored Peter's shrug. "That's why audiences tune in, right? To watch me be an asshole? The only reason I'm relevant is because I'm the man the world loves to hate. That's why you brought me here, isn't it?"
Sophia turned those eyes on me full blast and I almost forgot that I was angry with her. I forgot everything except how those eyes had captured me behind a mask. Now, in the light of day, unobstructed, they told me it was okay to let go. That I was enough.
"No, Desmond. That's not why we asked you here. You're here because in a world of bullshit, you chose to tell a man the bitter, ugly truth." Her voice was precise and deliberate but gentle, her lips rounding ever word. "This story is about a man that's so much more than he seems."
I blinked, struggling to ignore the pull to kiss her. She was the enemy, out to make a fool out of me for a buck or two. She was a stranger, little more than a willing submissive, even if she was just pretending. But she wasn't looking at me like an enemy, scouting out weak points to exploit. And her gaze wasn't that of a stranger, or even someone that had only known me for a month.
"Why don't you give us a minute?" Peter addressed the waitress, but he'd snuggled up beside Sophia, practically throwing an arm around her shoulder.
Sophia darted back to her seat, avoiding both our gazes. Peter and I had ample time to stare each other down in the seconds between his not-so-subtle display and my smug chuckle. I let it go and claimed the seat to Sophia's right. There was clearly some sort of history between them, ancient history for her, but still ripe and powerful for him. As much as I wanted to puff out my chest and let him know that Sophia was mine, I realized that a) I didn't need to stake my claim and, b) was she? Her eyes told one story, but I needed more than that to trust that I wasn't just a fool, latching onto the first woman that made me feel again.
I'd been to Melt once before. Mallory was a burger aficionado; the bigger, juicier, and messier, the better. When the 'couture' burger spot opened on the trendiest block in the city, and got a hearty endorsement from some foodie Mal followed on Instagram, she dragged me to the establishment. The burger was top notch, but when the check came, I swiped it despite her protests. My little sister wasn't paying a $100 for lunch while I was around. Even if the medium rare was on point, the fries were crisp and inspired, and the decor was plush and enticing.
At the moment, the small room seemed barely big enough to fit the organic, recycled wood table and chairs, and definitely not big enough to accommodate me, Sophia, and this guy's ego.
"Just so you know, we had a few other possibilities, but I'm glad me and Soph decided to go with the infamous Chef Desmond."
She tossed him a glare, but he didn't even make eye contact. I bristled, but bit back my annoyance. 'Soph'? They were on a nickname basis?
"And word on the street is you don't give interviews, so I was definitely surprised when your assistant confirmed this meeting," he continued, taking a swig of his water.
"I agreed to lunch," I corrected smoothly, leveling my eyes on Sophia. She was pointedly studying the menu. Yeah, right—no way was I letting her off the hook. "I'm assuming you have some questions for me?"
She lifted her gaze, her thick, delicious lips rounding as her cheeks filled with heat. "Questions?"
"Surely you're familiar with how interviews work, Miss Slater."
