Page 84 of Filthy Little Secret

I hurry to the door and open it.

Mark stands on the porch, looking so much hotter in a button-up and tie than I could ever hope to. He was fucking made to look like he belongs in his mother’s environment.

But the way he checks me out makes me feel more confident about how I look.

“Look at you,” he says. “Don’t you clean up nice.”

I’m blushing again. I want to fucking punch myself. I don’t ever get like that.What have you done to me, Mark? You’ve fucking broken me, and I sure as hell don’t want to be fixed.

“Shall we walk arm-in-arm to the car?” Mark asks with a big grin across his face.

“Whatever,” I say.

He comes in for a minute to chat with Nanna before we head out in his car together and drive to the steakhouse he made reservations at.

When we arrive, the host takes us to our table.

I keep checking around at the décor. It’s a nice place. Way too nice of a place. White tablecloths are covered with so many fucking dishes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many dishes on such small tables in my life. An orchestra plays on the other side of the restaurant before an empty space where a few couples are dancing to the slow song that’s playing.

I check out the menu on the table, and when I see the prices, I want to hop up and leave.

“Mark,” I say. “The steaks are all like fifty bucks.”

“So?” he asks. “I wanted to celebrate everything that’s happened. It’s all on me. Just don’t order wine or go crazy with that, and we’ll be fine.”

As I pick up the menu, I’m shaking.

I’d never come somewhere like this on my own.

I take a few deep breaths, trying to find the cheapest item on the menu, which isn’t easy.

“If you order the goddamn chicken,” he says, “I’ll kill you.”

I check the price and it’s only like thirty dollars.

“Well, we aren’t at McDonald’s.”

He laughs.

“Please enjoy this,” he insists.

I remember what Nanna said back at the house about enjoying myself.

A few more deep breaths.

“Sorry,” I say. “I think I’d feel better if I hadn’t just given up my main source of income. How did you even find out about this place?”

“They host a bunch of functions I’ve attended with Mom, so you know…”

“Oh, makes sense.”

A bunch of rich guys can certainly afford to drop some cash on a restaurant like this, and as I check the wine menu, I can tell that they drop even more money on their drinks.

“It’s definitely not like going to The Independent,” I joke about my new place of employment. “A beer’s like five bucks.”

Mark chuckles.

The way he’s looking at me, I can tell he thinks it’s cute having me in an environment I’m not comfortable in, which is a rarity for me.

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