Page 4 of Lethal Lover

Yes, she’d have her fans, but the only roses she would adore would be mine. The only letters she'd read would be penned by my hand alone. Every second spent with this ravishing beauty convinces me of one thing. She belongs to me now, and it’s just a matter of walking it out until she is aware of it.

“Fascinating,” I say, fitting in my replies to her stories in well-timed places. She is glowing with joy, and who can blame her? Her name is in lights on Broadway and she’s the talk of the town.

“Tell me, Elena, have you seen the city? Because I’d love to show you all the sights.” I hold her hand as she grows quiet and shy. Her palm is sweaty. She’s nervous.

“I’ve not had much time to see the city. Rehearsals every day mean my schedule is too busy. But I’d love for you to show me the city sometime.” Her smile is radiant, a beam of sunlight on a summer morning that kisses my soul and awakens me to desire. My dick wants to claim this innocent beauty, but all in good time.

“Then we’ll make a day of it and I’ll show you everything. The Empire State Building, Central Park, the zoo, and we may even take a carriage ride. How does that sound?” To me, it sounds tedious, like torture, but I’m winning her heart the only way I can. Any other woman in this town would hear the nameDominic William Salvatore and come crawling to be my sex toy. This one is different. Innocent. Precious.

To her I’m Liam Salva, a wealthy businessman who inherits his father’s riches and wines and dines beautiful actresses and nothing more. I looked into her. Where she comes from, they can’t even imagine a man like me—ruthless, heartless, greedy. We eat people like her alive. This city sucks them in, chews them up, and spits them out like yesterday’s rotten schmutz. But I like to play with my food a little first.

The car stops outside the restaurant where a line of people wait for a chance to receive a table. Most of them likely had reservations for this evening, but my request bumped them all. I’m not even sorry. Elena is my queen for the evening, and she deserves only New York’s finest dining experience. And it’s evidenced the instant Slick opens the door and we climb out of the car.

As if paparazzi were waiting on us, cameras begin flashing—those on people’s phones. Most of these schmucks have never seen a real celebrity, but there is no mistaking Elena’s face. It’s on fifty percent of the billboards in the city, and on my arm, she’s even more recognizable. I don’t date nobodies. These people have seen my face and know my name, and honestly, I’m doing Elena a favor by being seen in public with her.

“Wow, I can’t believe this…” She shields her face with her small black clutch that matches her dress, and we hurry past the swarm of folks now calling out her name and mobbing us for a chance to get an autograph. I don’t mind the attention, but I don’t want any of them letting my name slip.

“Come on.” I hurry her with a hand in the small of her back, and once inside, we both breathe a sigh of relief.

The host seats us at a table in the center of the room surrounded by empty tables that are all meticulously set and decorated with vases of irises of all colors. They are a bright contrast to the black tablecloths and black leather high-back chairs around each of the tables.

“My God, this looks expensive,” she mutters as she sits, and I crack a smile again.

“It is. Did you think a man like me would eat at a McDonald’s?” I take my napkin, folded into the shape of a swan, and snap it, then drape it across my knee beneath the table as the waiter pours us each a glass of water.

“Of course, no… I’m sorry…” Her cheeks burn a dark pink, and she looks down at her empty charger plate. She’s adorable when she’s embarrassed. She’s so naive and inexperienced. I look forward to helping her experience everything she has yet to enjoy about life.

Jean-Georges is probably the most expensive restaurant in this city, and I’ve eaten here enough to know their menu by heart. It’s an everyday occurrence for me, so I forget that Elena is new to all of this. Her shame in not knowing this is my fault.

“Apologies, Elena. I didn’t mean to be insulting.” I touch her hand across the table, and she looks up at me with her burning cheeks. They’ve been burning all evening. She doesn’t even need blush.

“It’s okay. I understand.”

The waiter hovers, assumedly for our drink order, and I rattle off our entire meal order in French. I’m not here to impress him, but Elena’s eyes grow wide as she hears the interchange. Besides, I’ve dealt with this waiter before and his English isdetestable. It would take us ten minutes to accomplish anything in my native tongue.

Nearly an hour passes as we talk and get to know each other. Elena hails from a small town in Ohio where she grew up with her single mother. She’s been a theater nerd for her entire life, and I don’t mind that. I don’t tell her much about myself other than that my father is wealthy and I’m into imports and exports. It seems to satisfy her questions. Which is good. I haven’t taken time to think up what my answers should be if she has more personal questions.

When dinner is over, I escort her back to my limo, this time past a bare sidewalk. Slick has worked his magic by removing the crowd so we don’t have any slips with my name, and the car heads off toward her apartment building.

She’s intoxicating, charming me like snake in a basket, but I still can’t get the idea of fucking her into oblivion out of my head. For all the listening I’ve had to do this evening, it’s what I deserve, but I’m patient—a lion stalking prey. I can’t scare her away or I’ll have twice the work in chasing her.

“Thank you for dinner, Liam. I had a great time with you.” She tugs at the hem of her dress, which is quite short and makes me imagine how easy it would be to slip it a bit higher around her hips and taste her forbidden fruits. I want to—to fold that skirt up and find the warm place my fingers would love to be buried. But I restrain myself.

“You’re welcome. I think dessert would be enjoyable.” I bring her hand to my lips again, and she sighs and shies away.

“I am really tired. The show takes it out of me.” She tucks her hand into her lap and folds her fingers together. That’s okay.I’m patient, and playing a long game has never discouraged me. Hard to get is my favorite.

“Then, when can I see you again? Tuesday? Or what about next Friday?” I can clear my schedule for her, but I have a feeling hers won’t be quite so forgiving.

“Gosh, I have rehearsals all week and a show on Friday. I’m not the lead, but I really can’t miss it. If I miss a single show, I won’t get any more lead roles.” Her frown looks genuine, not the put-on kind a woman gives you when she’s trying to get out of a second date.

“Of course, of course. Well then, next week. Wednesday?” I won’t stop until we’ve nailed down the time for our next excursion because I fully intend to make that pussy drip and squeeze around my cock.

“I’m sorry. My schedule really is so busy…” Her apologetic frown angers me, but I remain calm and placid. No sense in unleashing the beast this soon.

“Then you will call me if a slot opens in your calendar?” I reach into my breast pocket and pull out a card I had made for this event, and when I hand it to her, she smiles warmly. The car stops, and our time is done. She glances at the building outside the window of the car and then turns back to me.

“I’d really like that. Should I send the dress back?” Elena bites her lip, and it’s so adorable.

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