Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
I glance behind me and find Adam standing at the elevator, on alert, spine stiff, and as tall as he is, in mile-high fashion. What is going on?
Rotating forward again, and just in time, the hostess halts us at an arched entry with glass doors and opens one. I’m finally only minutes from being alone with Damion.
Chapter twenty-four
Tension curls low in my belly, and I enter our dining space.
It is, as promised, “private,” with one single table in the center of the room and a wall of windows with enviable Central Park views even from a distance. The kind that costs millions in New York City. The kind that a meal with this view would be priced outrageously expensive and out of my budget, at least as long as I bleed money to my parents. But it’s not out of Damion’s budget, and not much is, I’m sure.
There are also only two seats, which seems to indicate Adam won’t be joining us. Not that I’d expect security to join us, but I’m buzzing with a weird vibe over him that I can’t seem to quite tamp down.
The table sits parallel to the windows, and Damion crosses the room and holds out a chair for me, inviting me to join him. The problem is that this placement will force my back to the door, and at present, Adam, I assume. I can’t know for sure. I haven’t looked behind me, and to do so would be ridiculously obvious. The control freak in me that’s spinning out of control doesn’t approve of this seating arrangement, but the only way to reject the seat is by indicating said rejection, and with an audience, that feels like yet more fodder for the gossips. I suddenly hate the idea that our entire lives are lived inside a looking glass. The billionaire and the TV personality on display. Anywhere we go, and all that we do, will always be on display.
Accepting the inevitable, I join Damion, casually glancing toward the door and noting Adam’s absences, and doing so with unexplainable relief washing over me. I have no idea why he had me so very on edge, and all for naught, it seems. He must work for the building, and I’ve blown his presence into something bigger and darker. No longer bothered by the door at my back, I claim my seat, noting the champagne on ice I wish I could drink but don’t dare when I still have to record speaking in coherent sentences this afternoon.
Damion rounds the table to sit across from me, the distance between us cozy, romantic even, which is confusing considering this is merely my lunch break and his, too. The woman in the apron, who I can now see sports a name tag that reads “April,” reaches for the champagne. “May I pour?”
“I better not,” I say, and glance in Damion’s direction. “I have to work this afternoon and live with the words that come out of my mouth.” I laugh. “If I drink, that won’t be a fun thing to do. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Damion replies easily. “I should have known better. We’ll come back for a full meal, including champagne. I owe you.”
His voice is low, his tone as warm as the whiskey washing down my throat last night. His eyes are smoldering like a molten sunset, and I can’t look away. He’s not talking about dinner, but rather orgasms, and I can feel the heat rush to my cheeks.
“I can bring you whatever you like,” April offers, and I jerk my attention in her direction, quickly filling the space between the exchange with Damion with basic meal talk.
“Unsweet tea now and coffee later with lots of cream and Splenda,” I say. “I’ll take Splenda for the tea, too, please.”
“Of course.” She replies with a nod and looks to Damion for his order. “For you, Mr. West?”
“Same. And Alana is crunched for time, so give us a few minutes, but she’s going to want to order quickly.”
“I’ll be back with the drinks quickly, and then I can take your orders,” April promises, and then she’s walking toward the door.
The niceties and formality are over, at least for a few minutes, and I take advantage of what time we have alone, leaning into the table and closer to Damion. “What’s going on? And what was that back there with Dierk?”
“I told you. I was staking my claim.”
I swear my lips tingle with the memory of the kiss that followed that statement, but I stay focused on mining for information. He’s not acting like himself. “I know what you said, but since when do you need to stake your claim on me, Damion? You left me alone for years. Now you’re battling the green-eyed monster? It’s illogical.”
“You say that like I wasn’t always battling the green-eyed monster with you, Alana. I wanted to beat the ass of every guy you dated.”