Page 90 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
My phone beeped and I grabbed my phone from the counter and opened the text from Christian.
“On my way up.”
My stomach flipped. He was coming upstairs. To my place. Where he’d never been before.
I did a quick scan of my condo, smoothing down pillows that didn't need smoothing and straightening books that werealready perfectly aligned. Everything was immaculate, as always, but suddenly it felt too sterile, too impersonal. What would he think when he saw how I really lived?
The knock on my door was soft but confident. I took a deep breath and opened it.
Christian stood in my hallway, wearing dark jeans and a coffee button-down that brought out the brown of his eyes. His fade was freshly cut, his five o’clock shadow groomed, and he was holding a bouquet of white roses.
“Hey beautiful,” his deep voice drummed.
“Hey handsome.” I accepted the roses, breathing in their subtle fragrance. “These are beautiful. Thank you.”
“You look amazing.”
“I changed three times.”
His dark laugh stimulated me. “It was worth it,” he said, stepping inside.
I watched him take in my space, the cream and gold color scheme, the abstract art on the walls, the view of the city through my windows. “This is nice, Naomi. Very you.”
“Very me?”
“Sophisticated, elegant, but warm underneath.”
I blushed, leading him into the living room while I found a vase for the roses. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’m good. Are you ready to go?”
I grabbed my purse and jacket, suddenly nervous again. “Where are we going?”
“I thought we’d start with dinner and see where the night takes us.”
Christian opened the passenger door of his Maserati, and I slid inside, immediately surrounded by expensive leather and his cologne. The interior was pristine and masculine, and everything was neatly arranged.
He got behind the wheel and reached for the radio. Jazz music filled the car, and I peered over at him.
“You can change that if you want to,” I said after a few minutes of us riding.
“This isn’t working for you?”
“It’s just... very formal. Very first-date-y."
Christian laughed and switched to a different station. Hip-hop filled the car with bass thumping lyrics that made my body move.
“Is this better?” he asked.
“Much better.” I relaxed into my seat and the music eased some of my nerves.
“I was trying to impress you.”
“You don’t need to impress me, Christian. I already know who you are.”
He glanced at me as we stopped at a red light. “You do, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
