Page 42 of Endless Obsession

The statement feels so ridiculous that I laugh again. And I realize, as he pulls into traffic, that I’ve laughed more in ten minutes in this man than I did in probably the last six months with Nate—-at least that I can remember.

I don’t want to keep comparing. But it’s hard not to. And that, too, makes me think of if I’ll have another date with this man. At some point, if we keep seeing each other, the past will start to fade away. It really will become about just he and I. And I wonder what that would look like.

I can already tell he’s different from anyone I’ve ever dated before. But surely not so different that this couldn’t possibly be real?

Sinking back into the soft leather of the seat, I run my fingertips over the buttery surface, taking it all in. Ivan is obviously much wealthier than I realized when he approached me at lunch. It’s not something that matters to me in a man—I never cared that Nate made top-dollar lawyer money at his firm. I make enough on my own to keep myself in the style that I like, and I don’t need or want to rely on a man to buy me things. That’s not my love language. But there’s something about the way Ivan wears his wealth that’s attractive to me.

Nate liked to be flashy. He liked to order the most expensive bottle of wine at a restaurant, get the items on a menu that were so rare the price wasn’t even listed. He kept a brand-new Corvette garaged, even though he almost never drove it and knew nothing about cars. He wore name-brand suits to the office, even buying a couple of Tom Ford suits to wear to meetings. It was always about others seeing that he had money. And I’m just now realizing how off-putting that was to me.

But Ivan seems to treat it like it’s a second skin, one that he’s comfortable in, with no need to show off. And that makes me like him more.

“Where are we going?” I ask curiously, and he flashes me a grin.

“Are you alright with it being a surprise?” he asks, and I nod, my eyes widening a little.

“Of course,” I tell him quickly, a warm feeling washing over me at the idea that he’s putting in effort for this date. That it matters to him that he makes a good impression with me, instead of just assuming I’ll fall at his feet.

“I want to impress you,” he says, as if he can hear what I’m thinking. “I figure I might only get one shot at it, so why not go all out?”

“You’ve already impressed me,” I admit, rubbing one hand over the soft leather of the seat again. “On time—early, even, the car, and now a well-thought-out date that you want to surprise me with? You haven’t missed a step yet.”

“That sounds like the bare minimum I should be doing.” He turns the car smoothly down a side street, and I see that we’re nearing the nicest part of downtown Chicago. The view is beautiful, as it always is—there are cities with bigger skylines, but I never get tired of ours. “It sounds to me like men haven’t been treating you the way they should, Charlotte.”

“Maybe not,” I admit. I let out a slow breath as Ivan slows the car, pulling up in front of Ascent, a new Michelin-starred restaurant that I heard a couple of my coworkers talking about just the other day. I press my lips together, a thrill of excitement fluttering through me, and I can feel Ivan’s eyes on me as he opens his door, taking in my reaction.

I watch as he hands his keys to the valet, coming around to open my door. I look up at him as he holds a hand out, putting my hand in his as he helps me out of the car, and I feel a slight jolt as my skin touches his.

I told Jaz I wasn’t going to sleep with him tonight, but that might prove harder to do than I expected.

Just that thought startles me. I’ve never slept with anyone on the first date. Never even come close. And the idea that I might have to exercise self-control to keep myself from doing it tonight momentarily blurs my thoughts as I step out of the car and up onto the curb next to Ivan.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners. He looks amused, but not in a malicious way.

“I’m just caught off guard,” I tell him honestly. “I didn’t expect all of this.” I glance back at the Aston Martin. “Honestly, I’m still not past the fact that you picked me up in James Bond’s car.”

“He made me promise to have it back to him by midnight,” Ivan says, not missing a beat as he takes my hand and tucks it into the corner of his arm. “So we should probably be getting to dinner, shouldn’t we?”

I can’t help but laugh at that, nodding as a smile spreads across my face. Ivan feels warm next to me, solid, someone that I can lean into. Someone who will plan an entire night for us, without me having to do a thing.

A pretty, polished-looking hostess is standing at the front of the restaurant, dressed in a dark red bandage dress with her brown hair slicked back into a smooth bun, her makeup absolutely perfect. She flashes us a toothpaste-commercial smile as we walk up to the dark wood hostess’ stand, looking directly at Ivan. I don’t miss the way her gaze flicks enviously over him, and that gives me a bit of a warm glow, too. Whether or not this goes anywhere, he’s with me tonight.

“Reservation for Ivan Vasili,” he tells her, and she motions for us to follow her through the dimly lit restaurant.

It’s beautiful, clearly new, furnished in dark wood with gold accents, greenery lining the tops of the walls that we walk past on our way to the dining room. Faint string music is playing in the background, and Ivan and I are led to a dark wooden round table with matching chairs upholstered in red velvet, the place settings resting on gold chargers. We have a view of the kitchen from the small, walled-off area where the hostess brought us, with only four other tables around us, two of them occupied. This is clearly an exclusive area of the restaurant.

The red and gold remind me of Masquerade, and I sneak a look at Ivan as he pulls my chair out, looking for some hint of recognition. Could it be him? I wonder for a brief second as I sink into the chair. Is all of this some hint that he’s the man from the club, and he tracked me down?

But it’s not possible. Jaz extolled at length how carefully encrypted the records at Masquerade are, and how difficult it would be for anyone to uncover the identities of the people who visit there. I’m honestly not sure I would have gone, otherwise.

It’s a coincidence, that’s all. If I were a more superstitious woman, I might say it seems like a sign.

“What do you think?” Ivan asks, as the hostess leaves us there to wait for our server, and I look around at the surroundings.

“It’s gorgeous.” I bite my lip, reaching for the soft white cloth napkin to arrange it on my lap. “I don’t usually go out to places this fancy.”

I start to tell him about the plans for my failed anniversary dinner, but I bite my tongue. I’ll tell him eventually, if this goes anywhere, but it strikes me that maybe talking about my ex isn’t the best way to start off a date that Ivan clearly planned to be special. I wish Nate wasn’t so much on my mind, but it all still feels so fresh. And I can’t help thinking that this kind of attention is what I was missing all along. Not the flashiness of the date, but the thoughtfulness behind it.

“Good evening.” The server’s voice interrupts my rambling train of thought, and I look up to see an older man with a trimmed, greying beard and neat black uniform setting a carafe of still water on our table. “Would you like sparkling as well?”

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