Page 54 of Ruined
CHAPTER 15
Haley
My hands were clammy as I stepped out of my car and looked up at the towering hotel in Sage City. Lucas had offered to pick me up from the club, but I had declined. I couldn’t let anyone know what I was doing. Breaking the rules. Meeting a member outside of the club. Which scared me, and thrilled me. What we were doing was forbidden. We could get caught. And yet I still wanted to see him.
None of this was like me. I had worked at the Dahlia District for five years as an entertainer, seven if you counted when I worked in the kitchen before I turned eighteen. But now, I was breaking one of our top rules: never meet a guest outside of the club. It ruined the illusion and destroyed your chances of earning money from that member. If he knew he could take you out once, he would never pay for the Terrariums again.
But I wanted to trust Lucas.
A doorman opened the entrance for me. I straightened my ruched dress, snug on my hips and went down to my calves. There wasn’t much by way of cleavage, but it showed off the small curves I did have. I couldn’t rely on fancy lingerie tonight.
Would it be weird for him, seeing me dressed in normal clothes?
Not that I would count this black dress as ‘normal,’ but it was more normal than a silky robe and lingerie. I scrambled to grab my phone out of my purse to text him that I was there, when I saw him, sitting on a white couch by the fireplace. He saw me, locked eyes, and smiled. My entire body surged with warmth. I was actually doing this. Lucas was taking me on a date.
He stood to meet me. “You look beautiful,” he said, taking my hands in his. He kissed my cheek.
“Better than sweatpants and curly hair,” I said, joking about our ‘dinner date’ at the Dahlia District the night before.
“I actually liked that look.” He squeezed my hands. “Natural beauty.”
I blushed. I didn’t know what to say.
He led me back to the front, and the valet brought his car to us. I didn’t know much about cars besides the brand names that the members liked to flaunt, but it looked nice. Well kept, and sleek. He opened the passenger door for me and went around to the driver’s side.
Lucas drove us to a French restaurant in the center of Sage City. I had heard of Le Salon before, from the different billionaires who touted their reservations there, but I had never tried to go there myself.
“Monsieur Conway,” the maître d’ said, “and his esteemed guest. Right this way, s’il vous plaît.”
The restaurant was decorated like a vintage cottage, with delicate candles lighting the tables, enhancing the romantic mood. After we took our seats, I stared at the menu. One side was in French, the other in English. Though I had taken two years of French before I dropped out and got my GED, I didn’t remember much. I had a feeling that even if I had remembered, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate with Lucas sitting right across from me. I couldn’t even read the English section right then.
I used to think that seeing a member outside of the Dahlia District would be strange, like seeing an actor who played your favorite character in a movie getting groceries. But besides the jitters from being so close to a man that I admired, it was natural. We were going out; it was that simple. In the dim lighting, his dark hair suited him and contrasted well with the hint of green in his brown eyes. His full lips, the strong jaw, everything was perfection.
The confidence, though, is what drove me to him. He was at ease with himself, knowing exactly what he wanted, and was always motivated to get it. Even when it came to me. That was what made him truly handsome. Not only his hazel eyes.
A couple of bites into our soupe à l’oignon and coq au vin, he nodded at my dish.
“How’s the soup?”
“Delicious,” I said. “Thank you for—” I gestured around us, “for everything. This is what I needed. Especially with everything that’s been going on lately.”
“How much do you owe Dahlia?”
That came out of nowhere. He didn’t play around. I finished chewing the bite, then said, “I don’t want to talk about that right now.” I didn’t want to destroy an amazing night with a discussion about my finances.
But I guess that was his career. “All I’m asking for is a number,” he said. “I want to help you.”
It dawned on me. That was why he had asked me out. It wasn’t about taking me on a date, but making me say what I wouldn’t say inside of the club.
“If I don’t owe her the money, then I owe you,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not going to exchange one debt for another.”
“You wouldn’t owe me anything.”
That’s what they always said. But it wasn’t something I could believe. I fiddled with the dish, and though it was delicious, I had less of an appetite now. This place was expensive. How much would I owe for my share of the meal?
What was I even doing here with him?
“Let’s talk about other things,” I said.
