Dark red tones flowed throughout, as red mahogany chairs and booths lined the restaurant. We were led to a more private area. The gentleman held out his hand as Daimon led me to the table covered in a pure white linen cloth. Two small plates were placed on either side as wine and water glasses bordered the plates on the table. Carefully, I sat down feeling completely out of my element.
I looked around at murals of the roaring 20s and 30s painted on the walls. I was totally taken in by all that was around me. Even though I was in awe, I had to admit I could never truly get used to this kind of lifestyle. The rich played a different ballgame than I did and I was okay with that.
“I guess you like it here,” Daimon said as he sat next to me.
“Um— shouldn’t you sit across from me?” I said anxiously as I watched him move in closer.
“No. I want to sit next to my woman,” he said in a hard tone.
Daimon ordered wine for us as I looked through the menu, I couldn’t believe the prices. I knew it was expensive, but I guess being poor makes you think about money more than others.
“We’ll have a Delmonico's Salad and Acquerello Risotto to start then we’ll share the Double Porterhouse.” Daimon handed back his menu to the waiter.
“Daimon!” I exclaimed as I looked up from my menu.
“What? Does my lover want something else instead?” He peered at me, wanting me to comply. Screw that, even though I wanted what he ordered, I was going to order something else. There was no way I’d let Daimon order for me like I was a kept woman, which I technically was.
“I’ll have the crispy wild bass for my main meal,” I said smiling at the waiter as I handed over the menu. Daimon’s eyes narrowed, but a faint smile appeared on his face.
“Then I’ll have the steak,” he said without taking his eyes off me.
“Very well,” the waiter said and left.
“You play the part of a pain in the ass girlfriend to the tee.” He kept grinning; his sexy little smile should be illegal.
“Well, I have to make sure you get your money’s worth,” I said low enough so only he could hear. He laughed low into his chest. I'm not going to lie; I laughed too. But I stopped, quickly realizing I was sitting there with Lucifer. I sat there upset at how I let my guard down and laughed with him. I was even more upset when I realized it felt good to laugh, even if it was with Daimon. I hardly spoke to him until the waiter came back with our order.
“So tell me, Addie, how exactly did you wind up working in that diner? Rumor had it you were awarded a full scholarship to Yale,” he said while cutting into his steak, but I said nothing as I nervously picked at my food. “Come on, tell me. How did the all-smarty-pants-Addie end up being you?” he asked flatly, annoyed with my silence.
“Shit happens,” I shrugged. “You? How did the pain-in-the-ass-failing-student get to be a big wig with his very own skyscraper?” I asked in an attempt to deflect his questions. I looked up from my barely touched food to see Daimon still hadn’t eaten his first bite. He sighed, shook his head and picked up his fork.
“Well, like all who graduated from our school, except for one, I went to university and actually did something with my life.” His snide remark was like a small razor, making a tiny slit on my heart.
“It’s certainly good to know money gets you the connections to get anything you want,” I said bitterly, taking my first bite of my fish. I shoved a forkful of food in my mouth only because I was afraid I’d snap at him and tell him to fuck off.
“Money doesn’t buy you everything; but, fuck, it does make your life easier. It’s just too bad you don’t know that,” he fired back.
“You’re right, I don’t. I, at least, have a family who loves me and doesn’t pressure me to marry some stuck up bitch for mergers and acquisition deals,” I smirked. He took a bite of his steak and chewed it angrily. I continued, knowing I was getting to him. “Thereby, having to pay someone to act like their girlfriend. What is it Daimon? Couldn’t get your own girl? One you didn’t have to pay for?” I attacked back. The fucker hurt me and I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. He dropped his fork and glared at me.
“Daimon? Is that you? What the hell are you doing here?” A shrieking voice came from across the restaurant. A platinum blonde came running at us full speed. Everything on her was fake, and I mean everything. It was as if she was a Lee Presson girl. I looked at the girl who stood in front of us with her excessive make up and overpowering perfume.
“Having lunch, Clara. You?” Oh my God, so this is how Clara turned out. The moment I realized it was her, my mind drifted off to one of the numerous times she bullied me.