“Oh, anything is fine. Really.”
We walk down the streets as I cling to his hand for warmth. He keeps giving me meaningful looks as we pause for the lights, and then we finally stop in front of a restaurant. Tapeo.
“Hope you like Spanish.”
There’s a line inside the restaurant. The foyer is completely packed, but Tony calmly pushes to the front where the hostess recognizes him.
“There’s no way we’ll get a table!” I shout over the din.
He gives me a secretive smile and nods toward the hostess. “Table for two,” he says in his deep voice.
“Right this way, Mr. Vidal.”
My jaw drops as he turns around to give me a wink.
Of course. Johnny must have all the restaurants in the city in his pocket.
The hostess takes the heavy coat from my shoulders, and I feel oddly vulnerable without it. I’m dressed in a flowing tank top and jeans, and he’s in a suit. Discomfort rattles against my ribs.
It’s a nice restaurant, low lit and moody. The golden tone of the lights complements the steel-blue walls nicely. Tony’s strong hand wraps around my waist and a flash of desire trails up my thighs. I forgot what it was like to be excited for a date, to have his hands around my waist, and for that small, yet powerfully intimate touch to send a thrill to my heart.
But it’s not a date.
No, I’m here to ask Tony for a favor.
The hostess leads us to a table with two white, round candles. The rustic decor in the restaurant gives the place a trendy vibe. There are no tablecloths. Tony pulls my chair out and pushes me in when I sit down.
It’s kind of startling to see how well mannered he is. I didn’t expect it because he talks like a goddamn jerk.
Here we go.
My nerves fire up as he sits across from me and orders a bottle of wine. The sommelier whisks back with the bottle, pouring two glasses for us. I take the delicate stem in my hands and swallow a small gulp, shuddering as it spreads heat over my chest. Tony looks vaguely content, his eyes relaxed, but with the occasional glance toward the door.
I wish I could just sit here and enjoy the night like a normal person.
“When was the last time you’ve been on a date?” I ask him.
“I go on dates all the time, I just don’t go on second dates.”
“Why not?”
He lifts his shoulder in an elegant shrug as a complicated look flashes over his face. “What’s the point?”
What’s the point?
“Oh, I don’t know. Friendship? Love?”
He smiles at me. “I don’t know if I care about any of that.”
Wow.
“What do you care about?”
He grins like a devil. “Pussy. Money. Those are my two loves.”
It’s like a wrench inside my chest. This is going to go so badly. A man like this will never agree to a marriage of convenience.
“Aren’t you a charmer,” I say in a very dry voice, sipping more wine.
“I never pretended to be.”
His gray eyes are as dark as his face, and just as cold. His indifference strikes me hard, and I don’t know why I care. I don’t care. Whatever, I’m not here to make him smitten with me. I’m here to hopefully get him to agree to marry me.
“So why the fuck are we here, huh? You got rid of that girl I was going to bring home.”
I roll my eyes at his narrowed ones. I decide that Tony looks even sexier with a scowl on his face. “Please, don’t act like you don’t want me. You were all over me as soon as you recognized me in the bar.”
“I don’t like being manipulated, sweetheart. Just tell me what you want.”
The tiny flames of the candles flicker in his unrelenting stare.
Fine, I’ll tell him.
I lick my dry lips and open my mouth, unable to ask him.
Hey, guy I barely know. Wanna marry me for money?
The cutlery on the table rattles as I bump my fist against the wood, suddenly overcome with a fit of giggles. I cover my mouth as he stares back at me in bemusement, my shoulders shaking.
He swirls his wineglass. “You seem a bit stressed.” Then he leans in closer. “Maybe I should have just taken you to my place to fuck the pain away.”
The laughter breaks off and my skin blazes under his penetrating stare. “Yeah, maybe you should have.”
“This is about your ex, isn’t it?”
A wary look hardens his face.
“Yeah, but it’s not what you think.”
I still can’t fucking tell him.
“He showed up to my apartment right after I got home yesterday. We—we fought.”
He says nothing, but his eyes blaze.
“The cops showed up just in time, but he’ll be out soon. And then he’ll come after me.”
My face still smarts where he hit me, made worse by the alcohol flushing my skin. Tony looks back at me, his face stony. “How did you end up with a guy like that?”