Page 65 of By His Rule

The temptation to blow the date off entirely is almost too much. But knowing that I’ll hate myself for being such a pussy tomorrow, I dress and head out.

I don’t feel any of the usual excitement I do when I know I’ve got a woman’s sole attention for the night. And as I drop into my Maserati to head to the restaurant, all I want to do is turn around and lock myself in my apartment.

The fact that my date has managed to book a last-minute table at the Barrel and Grill should impress me. There is a chance that she used my name to secure it, of course. But seeing as I can’t remember who she is, she might not have needed to.

“Kian,” Rob, the owner greets me the second I step through the door. “What a pleasant surprise,” he says, holding his hand out to me.

“How’s it going, man?”

“Great. Booked out for months right now.”

“That’s awesome. You deserve it.”

“Is it just you? I’m not sure I’ll be able to squeeze many more in tonight,” he says with a wince.

“Actually, I’m meeting someone.”

“Ah,” he says, a wicked grip pulling at his lips. “What’s the lucky lady’s name?”

“Err...”

“Fucking hell, K,” he says, throwing his head back, laughing.

“I’ve got a lot going on,” I explain.

“Sure. Sure. Let’s see…” He taps on his iPad; I assume scrolling through tonight’s bookings for two in an attempt to save this date for me before it’s even begun.

“Ah ha,” he announces, looking up at me with a smug-as-fuck smile on his lips. “Does Claudine Bernard ring any bells?”

Honestly? No, not really.

“Yeah, that’s it,” I say confidently. If I’m wrong, this evening could be about to go from bad to worse, but there’s a niggle in the back of my mind that I’m right.

“Great. Right this way then, sir. I’ll grab you a drink. Something tells me that you’re going to need it.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, lowering my ass to the seat. “Rob?” I ask before he takes off.

“Yes.”

“Any idea who she is?”

He smirks again, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re something else. I’d pull up Google if I were you, or this date could be heading south fast.”

Fuck my life.

The second he turns his back, I pull my cell out and tap her name into the search bar.

My eyes widen as a photograph of her pops up.

Yep, that’s why I agreed to this date. Fuck. She’s stunning.

Long, sleek red hair, mesmerizing light blue eyes, pouty full lips, and if my memory does serve me correctly, a body to die for.

So why is it that as I stare at her photo, I don’t feel even one ounce of excitement about spending the night with her?

I should. I really fucking should. But…I don’t.

Am I broken?

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