Page 40 of Modern Romance September 2025 5-8
I’m quite certain, based on the shiver of fear that skates down my spine, and the shimmer of attraction in my stomach, that this is not a meet-cute of any kind.
“I can also thing of better things for you to do with your mouth.”
There is no way of mistaking the meaning in his words. He looks at me directly. Those eyes are so fathomless in the dark. He has the beautiful face of a fallen angel, and I’m stunned. I’m like a little goldfish swimming toward a lure.
I know it.
But I can’t stop myself. I take one step toward him, and he reaches out and grips my arm, pulling me up against his body.
“I want you.” His voice is low, rough; it echoes inside of me.
“I…” I should tell him that he needs to take me out. I should tell him no. I shouldn’t be thrilled by his attention. I shouldn’t respond to his possessiveness. And yet I do. I have never felt so attracted to a man in all my life. I have never wanted a man like this before.
“I really have to finish my shift,” I manage to say.
“You don’t,” he says.
I look around, certain we’ve drawn the eye of the people in attendance—or worse, my manager, Lisa, who I hate with the fire of a thousand suns. “I do… I’ll lose my job.”
“Youwon’t,” he says.
“Do you own the company?”
A slow smile spreads over his face. “I own this place.” He indicates the sparkling venue that we’re standing in and I can’t figure out if he’s a liar or not. He’s certainly not the old white guy I’d associate with ownership of a building like this. “Do you not know who I am?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“How interesting.” He looks at me like I’m an artifact. Something to be studied. “You’re beautiful.”
He says both things with a tone of wonder. My heart is beating so hard I think I might pass out. I can’t remember if I’ve ever been this close to a man before. I have. I know that I have. I’ve kissed men before. And yet, it didn’t feel this close. This intimate. Sharing the air with a man like him is something else entirely. He’s a predator. I feel that in my bones.
A shark.
And yet, I am the little fish that keeps on swimming. Maybe the snare is a hook. Still I swim.
I tell myself that having a modicum of self-awareness in this makes me less pathetic. And yet, I know the truth. I’m not the first woman to fall from grace over a sinfully handsome mouth. I won’t be the last.
“Come with me.”
Do I want this? Do I want my first time to be with a total stranger who’s never going to call me? Because he won’t. He’s clearly a wealthy, powerful man who can have anyone he wants. He walked up to me and grabbed me like I was an item that he could purchase. I suppose I should be grateful that he didn’t offer to cover my evening’s wages.
But I want him. I have never felt the need like this before. It’s insistent, driving. And I have the deepest, most profound sensation that if I don’t go with him I will regret it for the rest of my life.
Live.
That’s what my mom said before I left home. When I left our sweet little house on the street that I grew up on, in Idaho, heading to Europe for my grand adventure. She said:Live, Cassandra.
I’m sure she didn’t mean this. But maybe she did.
Maybe she meant that I should make mistakes sometimes.
God knows I’ve never made a mistake before.
I had to get the best grades. I had to be at the top of my class, so I could get the scholarship that I wanted, so I could go to the schools that I wanted to go to. My family loves me. My dad works so hard for me, for my siblings, but paying for four children to go to college has never been in the cards.
I knew that if I wanted to get into a good art program it was going to have to be based on my achievements.
I did all that. But what I haven’t done is live.
