Page 9 of Dirty Filthy Billionaire: Part 2

Mia

Iknow what I’m doing. As wild and confusing and a total rollercoaster the last couple of days have been—highs and lows in work and emotion—when I follow Weston out to his chauffeured car I know exactly what I’m doing.

I’m getting a good meal with a hot guy.

Beyond that, my plan is to try not to think too much. This morning was one of the most erotic moments in my life; then the most humiliating when I opened Weston’s office door and saw Jen’s face, looking as if she knew everything. I figure it’s been a crazy day, so when Weston Bridges shows up at my door saying he wants to take me out, why should I bother asking why?

“So where are we going?” I ask as the driver heads down the streets.

“Some place you’ve never been,” Weston says.

I look at him. “How would you know?”

He grins. “From the looks of the food containers scattered on your kitchen counters, I’m going to guess you don’t eat out much. And I know you haven’t been here in New York too long, and money is tight with you…”

“Excuse me?” I say, feeling a bit offended, even if it’s true.

“Therefore,” he continues, “I’d wager a thousand dollars you’ve never been to any place I could take you.” I shift, trying to act offended but we both know he’s right. Weston places his hand on my thigh. “But if you’ve been to this place before, just tell me. I’ll take you someplace else.”

He gives my leg a light squeeze before dragging his hand away. It’s not a coincidence I wore a skirt. Being around Weston makes me want to wear a skirt—to show him my body, and to feel his touches more easily and readily. His fingers are like silky fire scorching my skin.

“Surely you could have found a better date than me, though,” I say, and instantly regret it. I sound childish.

Weston shifts his body to really look at me. “I didn’t like that you were upset today. I don’t want to cause you any…emotional pain,” he says carefully, like he’s trying to find the right words. “Besides, I couldn’t dream up a better date than you.”

“Now you’re just being a flatterer,” I say, because no way am I some great date for playboy Weston Bridges. He’s been with some of the most beautiful women in the world.

“I don’t lie,” he says. “I find it’s a waste of energy. Besides, I’ve got enough going on in my life and don’t need to add trying to remember any lies I told. I’ve got enough to remember on a day-to-day business without adding any bullshit to the mix. So yes, I’m very happy to be out with you tonight.” He takes my hand, which is resting on the buttery leather seat. “You do look stunning, Mia.”

The way his eyes penetrate me makes me feel suddenly shy, and I can hardly look at him—especially when his hand is squeezing mine.

“Thank you,” I manage to say.

“It’s going to be hard to keep my hands to myself for very long,” he adds, rubbing his thumb along my hand in his. I dare to give him a little squeeze back, and hope he knows that I feel the same way.

When the car pulls over, I look up at the bright blue awning and gorgeous people filing in and out of the restaurant.

“Hey,” I say, looking up through the window. “I do know this place.”

I look back to Weston and he gives me a look like he doesn’t believe me.

“I haven’t been here,” I clarify. “But I read about it in New York Magazine. How’d you get a reservation? Wait, am I your backup date or something?”

“First of all, no more reading magazines from competing publishers. And second,” he says, taking my chin in his fingertips. “You are not my backup. You are who I want to be with tonight. Didn’t I already tell you?”

I feel myself blush, and try to control the big goofy grin that’s eagerly playing on my lips.

Weston leans in and lightly kisses my lips. It’s a soft, gentle kiss that stops me in my tracks. When his tongue pushes past my lips and brushes against mine, the world seems to stop.

When he pulls back, my head is spinning, my eyes heavy. He gives my thigh a firm little smack and says, “Let’s go. I’m starving.”

The car door magically opens—it’s the driver—and just before I step out, Weston puts his hand on my arm. I turn back to him. “And Mia? I don’t need reservations, at any restaurant.”

It’s unnecessarily cocky, but I have to admit that it’s also pretty sexy, especially because it’s true. Tables all over the city would be cleared the moment Weston Bridges walked in.

Inside the dark, heavy wood reception, Weston speaks briefly to the hostess, who smiles a lot and nods knowingly. Her smile slips when she looks at me, and I shift uncomfortably in my DSW shoes.

Another beautiful woman ushers us through the crowded restaurant, which is lit on the sides and in corners with blue bulbs, giving the whole space a dreamy vibe. We’re taken to a table up a few steps, on a platform, with drapes hanging on all sides. We have an incredible view of the restaurant but are mostly hidden to the other patrons. And definitely no one can hear us. It’s like having a private room but still being a part of the crowd.

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