Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
“I apologize, Penelope,” he said, pulling out his chair. “My car didn’t start, and it took forever to get a cab in this weather.”
“No problem, Lucian.” I smiled politely.
He exhaled and loosened his tie, then picked up his menu. “Does anything look good? I’ve never been here before, but I’ve had several clients raving about the place.”
I cleared my throat and opened my menu too. “Well, there’s the $30 tuna salad that’s served inside a lemon. Or maybe you’d be more interested in the $45 chestnut ravioli with walnuts and honey?”
“Chestnut rav…” He trailed off and made a face as he scanned the menu. “What on earth is all this?”
I’d rather ask who his clients were. Snobs like him, I bet. He worked in finance, if I remembered correctly. Frankly, we never talked about vanilla life.
Lucian looked and looked, as if more items would magically appear on the two pages, but after a moment, I wasn’t sure he was actually paying attention. If anything, he was miles away in his head—though, he recovered eventually. He glanced out the window instead. His jaw ticked. He released a breath, and I could practically feel the tension rolling off him. He wasn’t comfortable. He wanted to be anywhere but here.
This was the opposite of the man I’d call a dear kink friend. And how crazy was it that I could genuinely look forward to seeing him at events and then my skin would almost crawl at the thought of meeting up for lunch?
“I’ll have to apologize again,” he said, clearing his throat. “I got three hours of sleep last night, I have no idea what’s wrong with my car, I’m tired as fuck, I’m hungover, and all I want right now is to put on sweatpants and order the greasiest pizza I can find.”
I blinked.
He wanted what?
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “A burger would work too.”
Right.
What?
“Do you…want to reschedule?” I was so busy processing his uncomposed outburst that it made me a little slow on the uptake. But fuck it, I was impressed. There was something real underneath the suit, wasn’t there?
“Oh, I—I suppose that was unclear,” he said, frowning. “And it just occurred to me that you might not be comfortable moving this meeting to my place. We can reschedule. I’d just need an hour or so to go back home and change, and then—”
“We can go to your place,” I said. Just because I wasn’t a big fan of arrogant men didn’t mean I felt unsafe with him. On the contrary, I’d always felt relaxed in his presence. Well, in a kink setting. To be honest, I didn’t know what the fuck to think about the vanilla version of him anymore. “But you gotta promise me you’ll wear sweats. And pizza’s on you.”
The relief was instant in Lucian’s eyes. “I’ll pay for the cab so you can get home later too. Thank you, Pen—”
“I have my truck,” I chuckled. “Let’s go, pussycat. You need to get dry.”
I was more than happy to get out of this pretentious place, without having anything to pay for.
“Are we sure about that nickname?” he asked.
I looked back at him and smiled. “It suits you.”
“Wonderful.”
Oh, lighten up, suit.
“Did your truck’s shock absorbers fall off at some point?”
Pompous.
“Don’t shit-talk Nelson,” I said, making a turn. “He’s been around longer than you have.”
“I believe you.” He literally clutched the seat when I drove over another speed bump.
“Sooo, how’s life?” I actually didn’t wanna know, but I had to save my old truck from being bullied.
“Good.”
Awesome.
“Yours?” he asked.
“Great.”
This was why we were better off as kink friends. I could probably list all his partners and the kinks he’d explored with each one, but don’t ask me what his middle name was or if he owned a pet.
I guessed I’d find out the latter in a moment.
“Do you own a white cat?” I wondered.
He looked at me, so I made sure to keep my eyes on the road.
That was important.
“That’s a villain’s pet,” he said.
“Oh, is it?” Yikes. He was onto me.
He huffed and glanced out the window instead. “Yesterday, I was accused of being a vampire. Today, I’m a Bond villain.” He turned my way again. “Is there something about me?”
Hold on, who’d accused him of being a vampire, and why was that so funny?
“You know what? Never mind. It’s been pointed out before that I’m rigid and boring.”
Aw. Well, now I felt bad. I was just teasing him—mostly. “Who told you that?”
“My best friend,” he grumbled. “Pardon me for not wanting to go bungee jumping and swimming with sharks.”
Oof. A lot to unpack there. I cleared my throat and tapped my fingernails along the wheel. Traffic up ahead—this might take a moment. Was everyone out today? In this weather?
“I’m sorry about the cat comment, Lucian.”
He shook his head. “It’s fine. I know I…I don’t reveal much about myself, so people see the suit—and suits are dreadfully boring and/or pricks.”