Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 107803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
"His and hers?"
"No," he says. "I don't care which, but make sure there's no difference in the plates. I'd rather the chef not know which is mine."
The waiter nods and disappears as I regard Naz curiously. "Why don't you want the chef to know?"
"Because if he knows which is mine, he might poison it."
I let out a sharp laugh. "Paranoid much?"
"Not paranoid," he responds as he picks up his glass of champagne and takes a sip. "Merely cautious, which you should also be. You can't trust people, Karissa. Haven't you learned that?"
"Yet you want me to trust you?"
"I never asked for your trust." He smirks. "I only asked you to go to dinner with me."
Dinner's a four-course meal of seafood and steak, salad and some other things I can't begin to name. There's even caviar on the table. Gross. I'm stuffed by the third course but I don't decline desert, savoring the rich chocolate soufflé. Naz ignores his, instead sipping champagne.
We've almost drained the entire bottle. Naz has kept our glasses full. My head is fuzzy and my body feels like it's made of air. I'm floating sky high.
I never want to touch the ground again.
"Is it good?" he asks, watching me intently. I'm too intoxicated for the attention to fluster me anymore.
"Amazing," I say. "Best soufflé I've ever had."
"Have you had many before?"
"Nope. Never."
He smirks, pushing his across the table toward me. "You can have mine, too."
"I'll pass."
"Full?"
"More like it might be poisoned."
I'm joking, of course, but he shrugs a shoulder like he really thinks it's a possibility.
I set my spoon down, unable to take another bite. The check comes, and he turns it over, eyeing it as he pulls out his wallet to pay. I sneak a peek as I take a drink, nearly choking on the champagne.
The check is over twelve hundred dollars. No fucking way. I gape at him as he pulls out a wad of cash, paying in strictly hundred dollar bills, not even seeming bothered by the cost.
"That's nuts," I hiss. "I could eat for like a year off of that much money."
"Three years if you just eat your noodles," he points out.
"Seriously. Why's it so expensive?"
"Good food usually is."
I scoff. "You could've taken me to Taco Bell. I would've been happy, and you would've saved a thousand bucks."
"Everyone should indulge at least once," he says. "You enjoyed it, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Then it was worth it."
I don't even know what to say. I clutch my glass of champagne, determined to drink every last drop, considering the bottle was nearly half the bill. Naz pours himself a swallow before dumping the rest into mine for me to drink. It's filled to the brim again.
I take a sip. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get me drunk."
"Now why would I do that?"
"I don't know," I say. "Honestly, I don't know much about you."
"I've told you more about me than you've told me about you."
I roll my eyes. "You seem to have me down to a science."
"I don't even know what you're going to school for."
"Well, if you figure it out, let me know, because I'm still in the dark about that myself."
"Ah, well, you're young. You have plenty of time."
"That's what my mother says."
"Your mother." He eyes me curiously. "Are you close with your family?"
"Her I am," I say. "She's really the only family I have... the only family I'll ever have. I'm the lone kid of a single mother."
His brow furrows. "No father?"
"Nope," I say. "He ran out on us before I was born. My mother doesn't like to talk about it, so I don't know why."
"There's only one reason he'd do that."
"Why?"
"Because he's a coward." His voice is stone cold serious. "A real man would never abandon his family."
"Yeah," I say. "You're probably right."
"But you know, they're not the only ones who matter," he continues. "The family we're born into is important, sure, but they're not all we have. They're not all we are. A part of life is making your own family. That's the beauty of it all."
I smile softly. "Do you have a big family?"
"I do," he says, "but most of us aren't blood related."
There's something refreshing about the way he thinks, the way he looks at the world. He doesn't just accept the hand he's dealt.
After a moment, he motions toward my glass. "Drink up."
I slouch back in my chair, sipping my champagne. "Yep, you're definitely trying to get me drunk."
"I am," he admits, leaning over the table, closer to me. "How else am I going to get you to come home with me?"
Those words send tingles down my spine. I'm not sure if it's excitement or apprehension. "You could just ask."
He stares at me, eyes surveying my face as his expression falls serious, his voice dropping low. "Come home with me, Karissa."
My breath hitches. "That's not a question."
"Doesn't matter," he says. "Come home with me, anyway."
I go home with him.
Everything tells me not to, down to common sense. Even Naz's earlier words about not trusting people should've turned me away.
But still, I go home with him.
What can I say?
The warnings are a shout in the wind, swallowed up in the atmosphere. He's compelling and chivalrous, gorgeous and generous, and I'm intoxicated and in desperate need of something... something that he stirs up, something strong, and primal. He awakens the animal inside of me.
But it's nothing compared to what I see in his eyes. He turns to me as soon as we're alone in his house. The air is heavy, and his eyes are dark, the blue like midnight in the dim lighting. It's like seeing him for the first time all over again, but being greeted by an entirely different creature.
He's a beast. A monster.
And he looks like he wants to devour me.
He steps toward me. His voice is low and husky. "Have you ever been with a man, Karissa?"
My heart hammers hard in my chest as I nod. "I've had sex before."
"That's not what I asked," he says, pausing right in front of me, the tip of his shoes touching mine as he stares down at me. "I don't care about those boys who might've fumbled around between your legs a time or two. I want to know if you've been with a man."