I don’t know if what he said to those guys about another waitress taking over was a lie to get me away, but I’d better find out.
“You’re working now,” he says. “You’re mine for the rest of the night.”
I clench my jaw and glare at him. “What? What do you mean?”
“You heard me. You’re mine for the evening. I booked you. You leave when I’m done with you.”
My lips part. He paid money to book me. My pulse races and my lungs constrict. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I should feel relieved, but mostly I’m still embarrassed. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
He takes a draw on his cigar and allows it to dangle between his thick fingers. I wish he didn’t look so damn sexy. Or that his eyes didn’t drink me in the way they do. I can be stubborn all I want, but rocket science doesn’t have to tell me that I’d rather be with him than with those guys.
“No, I didn’t, but I had to stop you from ruining the impression you’re supposed to have of the place.”
“It’s a sex club,” I point out, deadpan
“No, it’s not just a sex club. It’s a place where people come to escape the real world and live out their fantasies. If you came here with me, that would be the experience and impression you would have.”
His gaze clings to mine. I’m stuck on what he said, and the bartender chooses that moment to come over with a tray of some expensive wine and a bottle of scotch.
James speaks to him again in Italian, and he leaves us, leaving the area completely.
“What did you say to him?” I ask.
“I asked for privacy.” He smiles and takes another draw on his cigar. He sets it down on the ashtray and focuses on me. “Paige… tonight, I want you to think of me as James. That’s it. Nothing more. College doesn’t exist. You don’t work here. We’re just two people. I’m James and you’re Paige. A man and woman in a club. Do you think you could do that?”
The request is appealing, so damn appealing, and I wonder what it would feel like to just be a man and a woman in a club. At the same time I’m wary of going down such a path with him.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because you’re mad as fuck at me for a kiss I shouldn’t have given you, and for what happened after.”
I try now to swallow past the lump in my throat. The last thing I want to talk about is that kiss.
“I’m not mad,” I lie.
“Yes, you are.” An easy smile dances across his lips and scatters my nerves.
“Okay, maybe I am. I was stupid and completely foolish. I shouldn’t have kissed you either.”
“Do you wish you hadn’t?” He searches my eyes.
I want to continue the charade of lies and tell him yes. I want to tell him that I wish I’d had better sense that night, but I can’t. Instead, I stare back at him.
“I wish I’d remembered who you were.” It’s safer to say that since I don’t know what his angle is. The bottom line is, neither of us should have gone there. But… I’m curious as to what his answer would be if I asked the same. “Do you wish you hadn’t kissed me?”
I’m sure the answer is yes, but I need to hear it to let go of these stupid feelings I have for him.
“No,” he answers shocking the hell out of me, and my heart slams in my chest.
We stare at each other for what seems like eons. He doesn’t regret it, so what does that mean? And he’s telling me.
James reaches for the wine bottle, pours us both a drink in the cocktail glasses, and straightens up.
“Now… I’d like a proper answer to my question. Do you wish you hadn’t kissed me?”
I think for a moment then answer. “No. What does it matter though?”
“Maybe I needed to know.”