Page 30 of Sugarplum

“Well, hurry up,” she said nonchalantly when she noticed. Ysa walked out of the room and yelled out “Put on some heels. We’ll wait for you downstairs.”

“Wait!”

She paused and looked back, “Yeah?”

“What’s his name?”

She grinned then answered, “Dylan.”

***

“Okay, I look fucking ridiculous.”

Matt looked at me as we got out of the car. The look on his face was the exact opposite of how I felt. It was like he was stripping me naked with his eyes. I wanted to drill my fingers into his skull and then slap him silly with his own eyeballs. Okay, I was getting a bit morbid but there’s no denying he made me feel uncomfortable.

At least he thought I was hot or maybe he just saw me like any other girl: a piece of meat to strip and fuck. I wonder how he made Ysa feel. I knew she had feelings for him but even she admitted to me before she only married him to stay financially stable. He was her bank, lover and sexual partner so why’d she ever look elsewhere?

Matt didn’t know Ysa was on birth control every three months. He always figured she just couldn’t have children. She never brought it up and so I never told him either. I guess he’d find out one day but it’s not like they were in a rush to build a family. I hear them every night fucking wildly in the other room and a kid might disturb that ongoing routine.

Ysa stepped out of the car, looked at me once, then laughed. “Girl, you’re fine. Come on, let’s go. He’s already in and he’s got us a table.”

“He should, I think he owns this place,” Matt commented as we began walking across the parking lot and into the restaurant.

It was a very lavish type of establishment too. From the red and gold colors it appeared to be some kind of Chinese restaurant but I couldn’t really spot any Chinese decorations. I did see some green jade decorations and an abundance of roses so I presumed my guess to be right. It had to be Asian of some sort.

The interiors also did not resemble that of a traditional restaurant. Every table had its own little room. It was like every customer stepping in had to be some sort of VIP. There were large flat-screen televisions in each “room” and the tables varied in sizes. Some were designed for ten or twelve people and others were just small enough for a group of four. Each table had the same basic design though: white tablecloth and a lazy Susan in the middle. I guess this would make it easier for food to be passed around for a table of ten people.

A lot of people were bustling in and around the place as well. I saw a lot of Asian folk, further emphasizing my guess, and it made me wonder if Dylan was half-Asian by any means. Well, Matt also said he was a successful businessman so he could just be as white and Caucasian as I was and just happened to own this restaurant.

We passed by a few tables and I smelled the aroma of fish and soup. It got me worried a bit - soup, noodles and fish were like the worst kind of food to eat on a first date. I didn’t want this Dylan to kiss me and taste fish instead of my flavored lip gloss.

After what seemed like forever we turned a corner and went up a flight of stairs. This took us all the way to the third floor and the usher led us to a VIP room in the furthest corner. It was small, fit for about six people, and was designed just like all the rest except it had far more elaborate leather seats.

Waiting for us, seated in this room, was Dylan Blackthorn.

Ysa and Matt casually walked up to him and greeted with a shake of hands but I stood there, just outside the VIP room, and like an idiot I stared at him. He must have been the most handsome specimen of a man I had ever laid eyes on. Even though he was probably twice my age, he looked like a younger man. The only hint was the grey hiding in his hair and trimmed beard but otherwise he looked much younger for his age.

He stood nearly six-feet-two inches, a whole foot higher than I was, and had on this elegant couture grey suit. Dylan had jet black hair that was ruffled up and yet organized at the same time, like one of those vampire hairstyles popular on TV these days and he had the most gorgeous pairs of deep brown eyes. He was a living, breathing example of human perfection.

“Olivia?”

My attention snapped and I heard Ysa calling out my name over and over.

“Olivia, Olivia, Oh-lee-vee-yah,” she went on like a lifeless drone. She was waving at me. “Hey, wake up. Stop staring at Dylan.”

Ah fuck. Did I really just stare at him like a fucking moron?

“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry,” I tried to excuse myself and walked into the room. I was going to shake Dylan’s hand but he reached out with both arms and gave me a tight hug. Oh God, and he smelled so good too. I wish he didn’t have to let go.

“It’s fine,” Dylan told me as he let go (to my dismay). He then looked down at me and smiled before saying “As long as it’s someone as hot as you looking my way.”

What the fuck do I say to something like that?

“Uhm, thanks,” I mumbled out.

Dylan took a seat and he gestured for me to sit beside him. Opposite of our side of the table was Ysa and Matt. She was looking at me with a wicked grin and her husband was already too busy looking at the menu.

I took my seat and tried to avoid looking up to my side. I could feel Dylan looking in my direction so I simply bit my lip and tried to ignore it.

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