Page 89 of Rhet

Me:I’m need to you go back to the office and retrieve an important file. Call me ASAP.

After waiting a bit. Still nothing. I turn the phone over. Nothing. I type again. I know I’m being juvenile, but I can’t fucking stop myself.

Me:Get back to the house or I will pick you up from the restaurant.

Dessert comes to the table. The waiter puts chocolate mousse in front of me.

Miley giggles. “I love cheesecake.” Her breast bounces as she claps as the waiter places a slice in front of her.

I had three courses; time has passed and Zeeta didn’t respond. Who the hell does she think she is? My business is important. Meanwhile, she’s out there with I-can’t-believe-its-not-Super Man, having dinner.

Miley’s talking pisses me off, I need to leave. I yawn, I want her to know she’s lost me and this date.

“You think I’m boring?” She leans forward.

“No, I yawn when I’m interested, please continue talking.” I state with a blank expression on my face.

Her face sours, finally she gets it.

I can feel my blood boiling. Zeeta still has not responded. I grab my phone and dial my guard again.

“Mr. Banner.”

“What course are they on now?” I already am wiping the sides of my mouth; I throw the napkin on the table.

“There are seven courses, I’m not sure.”

Instantly my mood changes “Cancel my request to pay. I am coming there in person.”

I stand and I grab my car key. Miley stands and throw her dark midnight hair over her shoulder.

“Where are you going?” I take my money clip out and throw money on the table.

“With you to see what woman has you so distracted.” For the first time she doesn’t giggle, in fact her voice is no longer annoying.

“You know what, come on along” I make my way out of Ultra. Since Zeeta doesn’t want to answer, it must mean she wants me there in person.

ZEETA

Glasses tinkle and jazz music floats through the air. I can’t believe I am here at Glasshouse with York. It’s a weird name but he is really a great guy.

He pulled out my chair for me and listens when I speak. He doesn’t curse one bit the entire evening. The bonus, he has an English accent. He grew up in London. Trust me, when he says my name its sounds perfect. ‘Zeetah’.” Even the way he chews his food is perfect. No mess, just crisp and clean.

It’s a cruel joke on ugly men because he’s beautiful. There’s no other way to say it. His height is about six two. I can see he works out by the way he fills out his shirt. He has a square jaw line, with a chewy delicious looking red bottom lip, complete with hazel eyes and lush dark hair. He is a dead ringer for Henry Cavill. He smells spicy and clean. It’s so awesome he has a great sense of humor. He’s nothing like Rhet. You know, mean, crude, uncouth at times.

York is near perfect. I listen as he talks about his school days at Oxford. It’s refreshing to talk to York. However, he lacks the zing that gets me going.

“Am I boring you Zeeta?” he enquires, as he cuts into a piece of his scallop. His eyes never leaving mine. He drops his utensils in his plate.

His gaze is intense, but it’s nothing like Rhet’s, heated stare. I need to stop thinking about Rhet. “Oh no,” I smile placing my hand on his and I give it a little squeeze.

I move my hand a way and reach for my white wine to sip it. Before I can bring it to my mouth, something feels off. I look around the restaurant, I see nothing but people enjoying their dinner. I resume drinking my wine.

“I mean if I bore you, I can change the topic,” he offers me a shy smile.

“Please do, your life isn’t interesting, and your sissy accent doesn’t help.” The voice at the side of me says. I spit my wine out. York hands me a napkin.

I wipe my mouth, and I look around, realizing that Rhet is standing next to me and causing a scene.

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