“Sure,” I said, reaching for my refilled wine glass and taking a substantial swallow.
Daniel sat back in his chair, rearranging his face into the mask of a man who was having a great time on a first date. I cursed silently. Even I’d been taken in for a while there. Of course he was just pretending.
We were at the dessert courses by now, and I could hardly taste the tiny, re-imagined tiramisu that I shoved into my mouth. All I could do at this point was pray that things got less awkward the more time we spent together.
Or, not. I could put up with a year of awkwardness for two million dollars, couldn’t I? Hell, I’d been putting up with a lifetime of awkwardness all on my own. And I had no one but myself to blame for that.
“So, Maddy,” Daniel said, gently rolling the stem of his empty wineglass between his thumb and forefinger, rotating the glass a half-turn, over and over again. “What were you doing with yourself before you came to work for me?”
His words were positively dripping with meaning. Was this how he talked to people he was actually trying to seduce? Did it even occur to him, that while the sensible part of my mind understood he was faking, he was still going to make my hormones rage?
He sounded exactly like in my dream.
I had to forget about that fucking dream.
I cleared my throat, trying to ignore the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. “Retail,” I said, simply. “And college before that.”
“Where do you go to school?”
“The Institute, downtown.”
“For graphic design?”
I nodded.
“You’re very talented, you know,” he said.
I looked around me instinctively, as if he could be talking to someone else.
“Thank you,” I said, finally. My voice sounded very far away. I reached for my water glass. The ice was all melted, bringing the level of the water up high enough to slosh some on myself as I took a drink. I groaned, reaching for a napkin to dab myself off.
I’d really done it. I’d managed to get uncoordinated-drunk on my first date with a billionaire. Great job, Maddy!
Daniel chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “No more wine tonight, maybe,” he said. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Coffee doesn’t sober you up,” I muttered. “That’s a myth.”
“I know,” he said. “But would you like some anyway?”
“Sure. Fine.” I dragged myself into a more proper posture in my chair. “Can I ask you some questions, Daniel?”
“Anything.”
“Everybody says you’re a billionaire, is that true?”
His eyes scanned the table. He actually looked a little uncomfortable, but I must have been mistaken about that.
“I suppose,” he said. “I’m not Bill Gates or anything like that.”
“No,” I replied, unable to stop the lopsided grin that spread across my face. “No, you’re certainly not.”
He looked up again and smiled back, a little…bashfully?
“I live comfortably,” he said. “I’ve never tried to hide that.”
“Sorry.” In retrospect, I didn’t know what came over me. I knew it was rude to ask people about money. For some reason, the fact that he was so freakishly rich made me feel like the rules didn’t apply in this situation. But no matter how much money the guy had, he probably didn’t want to feel like he was being stared at in the zoo. I realized I was blushing.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I can certainly understand the curiosity. And I did say you could ask me anything. To be perfectly honest, I don’t really know much money I have at the moment. That sounds appalling. Doesn’t it? God.” He laughed a little, sounding bewildered at himself. “But it doesn’t really feel like mine. Most of it came from investments my father set up for me when I was a teenager. I never really see it. I feel like you’re about to burst out laughing at me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. I was tittering. “It’s just…the fact that you can have all this money and not even touch it. I can’t even imagine. You know?”
“I do. Believe it or not, it wasn’t always like this for me.”
He sipped his water, and something in his face told me this was the end of that discussion, for now.
I lowered my voice. “Do your parents know about your…plan?”
He hesitated for a moment. “They’ve both passed,” he said, finally, looking up from the table.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” I felt like I was doing nothing but apologizing tonight.
He shrugged. “The fewer people know about it, the better. We can talk about this later, if you like. I’d rather not continue this conversation in public.”