Page 115 of Unspoken Rules

“Fuck,” he mutters, stepping back. “We need to go or we won’t leave.”

I bite my lip. “I’m not opposed to that.”

“I have reservations. We can have fun when we get back.” He gives me a devilish smile.

I can’t wait.

Chapter Forty-Seven

Bryson

The restaurant he takes me to is the fanciest place I’ve ever been. That I can remember, that is. I was told by my father many times that I was such a well-behaved child before I started school that my parents were able to take me out to dinner at nice restaurants. Of course I don’t remember them, but I’d assume they were like this. According to him, my attitude started when I started public school, and he blames himself for not sending me away to a boarding school. Sometimes I think I’d have been better off. But I’d never have met Chris or Cole, and I don’t like that thought.

Our seat is on the balcony by the windows, overlooking the gardens. Since it’s dark, I can’t make out much, but there are a bunch of twinkling lights brightening the walking paths.

I don’t feel like I fit in here, but when I’m with Cole, I can do anything.

So I do.

Just over the railing to the first floor, I spot the small dance floor. In front of that is a stage where a band plays soft classical music. Above that, and directly in view, is a large glimmering chandelier. Everything is decorated in gold, cream, and sapphire blue.

Soft music floats through the air, along with quiet chatter from patrons. The seating up here is only for tables of two, making it more intimate. I bet they have hundreds of proposals here.

“This place is fancy,” I say.

“Is it too much?” Cole asks.

“Not at all. It’s perfect.”

“I wanted to do something nice for you. I know how important getting this job is.”

“You always do nice things for me, Cole. You cook for me, look after me, do my laundry, even though I tell you not to.”

He hides his smile behind his glass of water.

When the waiter comes, Cole orders a bottle of wine. The waiter suggests an appetizer that he accepts.

I look over the menu, my jaw dropping when I see the prices. I place the menu down, and Cole is already holding his hand up. “Don’t even think about it.”

I narrow my eyes at him, leaning forward. “This is ridiculous.”

“You’re so worth it, baby,” he says smoothly. I roll my eyes. “And if you don’t agree, make it up to me later.” He winks and I damn near faint.

“I’m not a prostitute,” I say, fighting off a smile.

“You could be my prostitute.”

“Are you offering to be my sugar daddy?” I raise a brow.

His eyes heat and dip to my lips. “If I knew you’d be okay with it, I would.”

“Well, I’m glad you know I wouldn’t be okay with it,” I respond quickly, because that’s more important than how excited my dick gets over the idea.

“Unfortunately,” he mutters, and goes back to browsing his menu. I watch him for a moment, then pick up my own and figure out what to get. “If you try ordering the cheapest thing on the menu, I won’t be happy.”

I huff out an annoyed sound but smile behind my menu. He knows me so well and I kind of love that.

Dinner was amazing and not that I’m drunk, but I’m feeling good after all the wine. On the way to the truck, Cole takes a detour and guides me toward the gardens. We walk through the archway that’s decorated with roses and move down the path. As beautiful as it all is, I can’t help but feel slightly awkward. This is romantic. I’ve never done anything like this before and have no idea how to act. Never mind that it’s with Cole. But when he slips his hand into mine, tugging me closer to him, I relax.

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