Page 31 of Wreck Me

‘Are you ready to order?’ The waitress takes a pen and a small notebook from the pocket of her black embroidered pinafore.

‘We’ll have the wagyu beef tagliolini, and the foie gras ravioli, please.’ He closes his menu with a small thud and hands it back to her.

‘Certainly, sir.’ She nods at him, then at me. ‘Madam.’

‘Do you come here often?’ I lift the glass and swirl the liquid, watching as it streaks the inside of the glass.

‘Only when I’m really trying to impress.’ His lips quirk as he shrugs off his suit jacket and slips it over the back of the chair. Deft fingers swiftly roll his sleeves up to reveal taut, tanned forearms rippled with enough veins to form a road map. ‘Is it working?’

‘You don’t need to impress me, remember?’ I lower my voice and arch my torso. ‘It’s not a condition of our arrangement.’

‘Yes but, I’m hoping those conditions are up for negotiation. And by the way, I have a few conditions of my own.’ His eyes pin me in a powerful stare.

A ripple of nervous apprehension rises in my gut. ‘Go on.’

‘Firstly, I’m giving you a credit card. Buy whatever you want. Text books. Clothes. Make-up.’ His focus falls to my dress as if he can see beneath it. ‘Lingerie. Whatever you need or want.’

‘I–’ He cuts me off before I can protest. He’s already paying me a fortune.

‘Scarlett, you just resigned from your job to work for me. I want to make sure you’re better off for it.’ He pulls his phone from his pocket and hands it to me. ‘Put your phone number in here, please.’

I tap in the digits and hand it back.

‘Secondly, I need at least three public dates a week if I’m going to convince the Board we’re serious.’

I nod. Three dates a week with this gorgeous creature isn't exactly work. Unless you count the effort of not throwing myself at him and begging him to make good on his promise to bury his tongue in me.

‘Thirdly, though, I’m pretty sure I don’t need to even voice this one, I need your assurance you won’t see anyone else. You mustn’t be caught even speaking to another man.’ His jaw ticks, like he’s seeing it in his head in multi-coloured flashing images. ‘And God help anyone you might kiss in a nightclub.’

Clearly, I’m never going to live that down.

‘As if I would.’ It's a battle not to roll my eyes. ‘But tell me, I’m still curious to know why a man like you, who could have any woman he desires, needs a pretend girlfriend?’

His mouth curves in a slight smile. ‘Because real ones get big ideas about marriage and babies.’

I take another large mouthful of wine. ‘You don’t want babies?’ He’s already told me he’s not interested in marriage but surely a man like him would want an heir.

‘No.’ His tone is final. ‘And especially not with some society wannabe.’

‘What do you want then?’ The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

‘Right now, I want to get to know my pretend girlfriend.’ He reaches across the table and takes my hand, drawing small circles on the back of it. Every fleeting flick of his fingers has my insides melting.

‘I hope this is okay.’ His eyes fall to the table. ‘It’s important we put on a convincing performance.’ His eyes dart around the room, but no one is looking our way.

‘Next you’ll be kissing me in public, too.’

‘You can bet your life on it, sweetheart.’ He wets his lips. ‘And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.’

‘James,’ I scold. ‘You can’t say that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I told you, I’m not going to… we can’t…’ The mere thought of his naked body on top of mine makes me unable to form coherent sentences.

‘I want you, Scarlett,’ he say in a low, velvety voice that sets my pulse fluttering. ‘I’ve made no secret of that. And I intend to do everything in my power to convince you to let me have you.’

My mouth is suddenly drier than the bottom of a bird’s cage.

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