Page 10 of The Billionaire & the Virgin Chef
Dylan
Itakea sip from my glass of whiskey when I make it to my buddy, Jackson’s side. “Where’d you find her?” I ask, referring to the girl he brought as his datetonight.
Jackson runs his hands down the seam of his perfectly pressed tuxedo, his eyes glued to his date as she walks off in the direction of the restrooms. “She’s sort of aneighbor.”
“That’s one hot girl next door,” I tell him after downing another mouthful of the amber liquid. “Kinda young, but hot. Who was her cheffriend?”
I still can’t keep my eyes off of the little blonde chef, and I don’t know why. The moment that I first see her at the fundraising gala that my mother organized, it does something tome.
“No idea,” Jackson answers. “Want me toask?”
“Nah. I can findout.”
He nods and flashes me a grin. “I remember the lengths you go to for a piece ofass.”
Besides probably being the most analytical and numerically gifted person in this room filled with New York’s most elite and powerful families, I can confidently say that I’m very likely the most adept at chasing tail. Even more so than my buddies Foster and Caleb. My two best friends since childhood, Jace and Jackson, would agree. Which is why Jackson wouldknow.
I smile. “Whatever it fucking takes. It’s not much different from yourbrother.”
We proceed to chat about Jackson’s track record of doing crazy shit, his brother, Jace’s dating choices, and share a few words on the Mont Blanc deal we’re working on, but to be honest, it’s not in the least bit interesting to me. That’s just one side of my brain running on automatic pilot. I’m appeasing a conversation while my eyes take in the sexy blondechef.
I don’t know a thing about her, and already, I craveher.
I hate that I do. That loss of control, the feeling of being captive to something outside of myself, and finding it impossible to look away, think, or focus on anything else. It bugs the fuck out ofme.
My dick feels ittoo.
I’m the guy mothers warn their daughters about. The one most likely to spend every waking moment figuring out how to close the deal and get a woman into my bed, only to cut her loose once I’ve had her. And I mean once. Second dates and second fucks are not in myvocabulary.
The worst part is they never see it coming. They notice the glasses, learn about my analytical prowess and size me up as the geek I truly am. Except, because of my fucking good looks behind these specs and the fact that I take damn good care of my body, words likesexy,hotandgodend up added on to their description and perception ofme.
And up until I see the hot little blonde across the room for the first time, that aspect of my sex life was more thansatisfactory.
But now it’snot.
All of a sudden, I start to feel like it won’t be complete unless this girl has had the honor of meeting me. What scares me is that I catch my first glimpse of her here at the Rockefeller Center, and it’s as she emerges from the banquet kitchen speak to my mother, of allpeople.
That alone, the fact that she has any kind of formal or informal connection to Diane Worthington, should cause me to run in the oppositedirection.
It doesn’t. And Idon’t.
I just stand there surrounded by my friends and business colleagues by day, gazing at every detail about the cute little chef, even with my mother in my view. I should be appalled. But I’m not. It only serves to show how potent a response I’m having to her. Her image is imprinted in my mind long minutes after she returns to her post somewhere in thekitchen.
I want to know everything about her. Of course, I should take the initiative and approach her, but I talk myself out of it because she’s working and I’m here on account of needing to show my face, to not entirely fall out of my mother’s goodgraces.
The good thing is I now have two ways to find out more about my sexy littlechef.
First, she clearly has a close personal relationship with Dahlia, Jackson’s date tonight. Their platonic yet intimate physical proximity as the two young ladies speak to each other tells me they may be best friends. I’m banking on that fact, in the hopes of crossing paths with her again, even if Jackson has no thought-out plans for his next date with Dahlia. The fact that she’s staying in the condo next to Jackson’s penthouse unit, pet sitting for his neighbor, well that gives me some confidence I’ll see Dahlia again, which means I’ll lay eyes on her sexy chef friend at one point oranother.
As a last resort, there’s Mom. They spent over five minutes in conversation, a dialogue initiated by my mother, and I can tell from both their faces that the discussion is more than pleasant. Diane Worthington doesn’t usually spend that kind of time talking to the help unless she’s criticizing them or ordering them around. Even from my spot across the ballroom, it’s clear that there’s not any overly bossy energy or bad blood betweenthem.
When my mother passes her a business card, I’m confident it’s a sign that they’ll connect again. Not in any capacity related to the career of the woman who brought me into this world. Mom’s a high-powered lawyer, a senior partner in one of the most respected firms in Manhattan. A young chef like that little blonde wouldn’t have a reason or the resources to hire Mom. Which means it’s the other way around. Diane wants something from her. And what my mother wants my mother gets. The little chef is going to reach out to Diane one day, so if I can’t get her number through Jackson and his date, there’s another option, through my flesh andblood.
I can’t wait to find out more abouther.
My level of intrigue, attraction and curiosity don’t change one bit when I see her up close either. She passes by with a massive tray almost as big as she is, and serves the hors-d’oeuvres with adeptness andease.
My dick stirs at the way her lips quirk up into a smile when our eyes meet. She knows I’ve been checking her out and it appears that she doesn’t mind it one bit. Sadly, I don’t make it to her in time to get a taste of whatever she’s serving, but that doesn’tmatter.
