I did what I set out to do. All in all, it was successful. Sienna did have a good time, which I am sure she will hate once she is alone, and despite me trying my best to help, she’ll have some sore legs tomorrow, which makes me a little happy too. For a moment, I imagine other ways to cause sore legs but quickly push that thought aside.
Obviously, the right thing to do would be to just take her home.
“Dinner?” I ask and wonder why that newly found masochistic streak is rearing its head right now.
“I don’t know if I should have dinner with you,” Sienna responds and adds the word ‘boss’ with a sarcastic tone.
I still prefer ‘babe’.
The motor roars when I turn the key and press the pedal. “I’m just gonna come out and say it, Miss de la Vega, but youare probably not supposed to watch strip shows with your boss either, so what’s one more dinner?”
23
SIENNA
“Isuppose it would be okay as long as we talk about those new headlines. It’ll be a business dinner.”
At least that’s what I tell myself.
Do I enjoy spending time with Mr. Full Of Surprises?
Obviously.
Do I want to jump his bones and let him ravish me right here, right now?
Who wouldn’t?
Am I too smart to get caught up in a mess like this?
For Robyn. I have to be.
True to my intentions, I pull out my phone and read some of the posts on Ryker Rumors while we wait for our food. And the posts are still weird. It seems like whoever is writing them has an odd fascination with Ryker. It’s almost like they are obsessed. The older the post, the more it seems that the author was in love and at some point fell out of it. It’s like some sort of twisted biopic. Some of the articles seem to have a surprising amount of insight into Ryker’s life, or more likely the author just used their vivid imagination for those stories.
“Oh, hey, you had sex with Scarlett Starling? Didn’t she win an Oscar? Lucky bastard,” I say as the server brings our dinner.
Ryker waits for him to leave before answering. “I did? Good for me. How was I?” he asks with a scoff.
I guess this one isn’t true then.
“Doesn’t say, but listen to this.” I read out loud, “A Psychoanalytic Examination Into Why Ryker Grayson Never Dates Anyone Twice. Whoever is writing this must have an abnormal obsession with you.”
Jesus, that’s quite something.
Ryker’s jaw clenches barely noticeably.
“Wait, is that true?” I ask and look at him shift in his seat. “Not a fan of armchair psychologists, are we?”
He clears his throat. “You could say that.”
“So why don’t you?”
“Don’t what?”
“Never date anyone twice.”
He puts his cutlery down and thoroughly chews his last bite to relieve some tension. “I thought this was supposed to be a business dinner.”
“You are my business,” I say and can feel a lump form in my throat. I guess it’s kind of true. He is my business, but it sounds weird saying it like that. It also feels weird sitting here with him. Admittedly, in a good way. It’s… nice. Still also weird.