Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“You’re a nightmare.”
“Just do it.” She flops back down on my bed. “For me?”
I groan, but I can’t deny my sister anything, even my own embarrassment.
But like always, Gem’s right. Somehow the old navy wrap dress still fits. Sleeveless, a little tie at the waist, neckline plunging but not too bad. I find decent heels and earrings, and actually feel good about myself for once.
For a second, I can pretend that I’m not a waitress and a dog washer. Most of my life is spent either a mess or about to become a mess. But standing in front of the mirror right now, I feel almost… attractive.
I haven’t felt this way in a long time.
“That’s the one.” Gem sits up straight, grinning.
“It’s too formal.”
“Oh my god, no more excuses. Here, wear this necklace. He’ll stare at your cleavage when he notices it.”
“I hate you.”
A half hour later, Stellan’s car shows up in front of our apartment building. I hurry out, and luckily, nobody notices me going. I feel strangely mortified that I’m going out to dinner with a handsome, terrifying man, when I could be spending my time doing something more important.
Like slinging cheap coffee.
Stellan’s waiting for me beside the open back door to the expensive black town car. His eyes roam my body, and I feel wildly vulnerable. I figure he must be pretty disappointed, but instead he moves forward, puts a hand on the small of my back, and lightly kisses my cheek.
A thrill runs down my spine.
“You look fantastic,” he whispers.
“You don’t miss the apron?”
“Not at all.”
We climb into the car together. It takes off without Stellan having to say a word. I glance back at the building, worried about Gem, but she’ll be fine.
I should be more concerned about myself.
Stellan doesn’t speak. He looks out the window with a dark, brooding stare. He’s a big man, and our knees nearly touch. I wouldn’t mind if they did, which is strange. He’s wearing a sleek, expensive suit, and I’d bet one shoe is worth more than my entire ensemble. I feel silly for fussing over myself when this man could afford to buy my closet a thousand times over and still have enough left to retire comfortably.
None of this makes sense. I don’t get what a man like Stellan would want with a girl like me. I’m just some average waitress struggling to make ends meet. Ever since Mom ran off with her latest junkie boyfriend, my entire life’s been revolving around Gem. My sister’s the real catch. She’s the one with the actual future. When she’s off to college, maybe then I can figure out what I want out of life. But right now, I’m just the shell of a woman going through the days.
I don’t know what Stellan can possibly see in me.
“You’re staring,” he says suddenly.
I start and look down at the floor. “Just thinking.”
“What about?”
“Your fly’s unzipped.”
He grunts and checks himself. Then he sighs. “Real mature.”
“Whatever.” I grin at him. “Made you look.”
Some of the tension drains. I have to remind myself that Stellan’s just a man—a rich, powerful, dangerous, beautiful man—but still just a man.
I can handle him.
The car drops us at an expensive Italian place near Rittenhouse. It’s the kind of spot I’ve walked past a dozen times over the years but never dreamed I’d actually go inside. Stellan keeps a hand on my lower back, practically guiding me into the dark, cramped entryway, and I’m surprised when the hostess practically stumbles over herself to get us seated immediately. She knows him by sight and doesn’t seem shy about shamelessly flirting with him. Stellan barely notices though. His fingers lightly stroke my back, and I think about telling him to keep his hands to himself, but it feels good. And we’re on a date. So why not live a little? Besides, the hostess is visibly flustered by the time she realizes he’s not going to give her any attention, which is kind of funny.
“You come here often?” I ask once we’re at a great, private table near the kitchen. It’s warm and cozy. I look around at the modern, expensive decor. Lots of glass and wood with dim, comfortable lighting, and soft jazz playing over hidden speakers. Everyone’s well dressed and talking quietly.
“Not particularly.”
“But they know you here.”
“They know me in a lot of places.”
I want to push on that, but the waitress shows up. Stellan orders wine, bread, and salads to start. I look at the menu and nearly choke.
An entree costs more than I make in a shift at the diner.
Panic starts to rise in my guts. I planned on offering to split this with him. I don’t know why, but the idea of owing him more doesn’t sit right. But there’s no way in hell I can do that. Not with all my bills piling up and Gem’s college application fees.