“Because I'm hungry.” He looked at me incredulously.
“Daimon, why can’t we just go somewhere…more low key?” I asked uneasy about coming to a place like this. Not that the food wasn’t great. I'm sure it was but the city was full of places to go and he always saw fit to take us to the most expensive restaurants the city could offer.
“I’ll let you choose next time,” he said, taking my hand and dragging me in.
The place was as beautiful as I expected, with its pure white trims and perfectly placed tables. We were led to a table in the back of the restaurant, away from prying eyes. The waiter held out my chair and waited for me to be seated. I took a deep breath and sat down. I hated when he took me to places like this. I always felt out of place. He then handed me a large leather binder. I opened it to see the tasting menu. Daimon was handed an iPad with the restaurant’s wine list. He murmured something to the waiter and both the iPad and menus were taken from the table.
“I guess you didn’t leave your bossy self at work?” I said as I took my glass of water and drank.
“I’m bossy always,” he grinned. “You don’t like that I take you to these places?” he asked.
“No, actually, I hate it. I would rather have regular food,” I said, rather sheepishly. I felt ungrateful, but I just wasn’t used to this.
“Then you choose next time,” he noted. The waiter came and presented the wine to Daimon, who nodded.
I sat, watching him enjoy his wine, while mine was untouched. Images of last night kept swimming in my mind.
“Where did you learn to play the violin?” I asked, watching him closely. He gently put his glass down and licked his lips.
“My mother. She was musical. She could pick up any instrument and play it. My father hated when I played, especially after she left. I told him I didn’t care what he thought. I guess he didn’t either since he kept breaking them. So I would play elsewhere, anywhere, where he couldn’t hear me,” Daimon said bitterly.
“Does your mother know you still play?”
“No and I don’t plan on telling her,” he snapped.
The first of our menu tasting was served out. “Sofia wants to go to medical school. She’s going to apply to pre-med,” I said without realizing it. I picked up my fork and slowly picked at the wonderful food that was before me.
“Doesn’t she know that costs money? You realize you will have to stay with me for at least another year if you want her to afford it,” he said insensitively.
“It was my dream,” I said softly, still staring at my plate.
“Your dream?”
“I wanted to become a doctor. I wanted to save lives and have my own career,” I said ruefully.
“So become something,” he said. “Addie, I know I told you not to work. That was only because you’ve worked more than anyone I know. So just take the fucking time I’ve given you and become something. Go to school, go open up a business. Do whatever the fuck you want. The Addie I know is a fighter, not some pushover who lets life get her down,” he argued.
“The Addie you know? You don't even know me, Daimon. I worked because I had to. I had to figure out what was needed to be done. I had no choice,” I retorted.
“Yeah, okay, you had no choice. Now you do. So make something of yourself. Unless you like being pitied?” he glared at me from across the table.
“Is that why you did what you did? You knew I was pitiful. That’s why you used my situation to your advantage?” I asked.
“It was a win-win for both of us,” he said low, his eyes not liking the way our conversation had gone. But I didn’t care; I was hurt by his words. I hated that he was right. I hated that I sat around for almost three months waiting on what Daimon wanted.
“You spoke of pity yesterday. I guess that’s how you see me every time you fuck me. You take pity on me, is that it?” I asked.
“Don’t try to take back what happened yesterday. You know very well you want my cock. You want my hands on your body,” he chuckled maliciously as he leaned in closer. “Don’t even pretend you are not looking forward to my wicked lips on your, what I believe is now, a very wet pussy.” A serene smile was plastered on his face as he watched me with his bewitching sky-blue eyes. The low words he spoke, the way his intense eyes stared at me, how could I not want to have his perfectly pink lips on my pussy?
“You’re sadly mistaken,” I mustered.
“Sure I am,” he smirked.
“I need to head to the washroom,” I said, standing up.
“Try not to play with yourself while you’re in there,” he said aloud; everyone around our table turned and looked at us.