CHAPTER5

Pretty Woman~Brooklyn

"Can I get you a drink, miss?"the server asked.

I stiffened and searched the table for a drink menu, except there wasn't one. I tried to think, but it was hard with Carter's eyes peering into my soul. Heat coursed through my veins, and a chill ricocheted down my spine. I was sitting here in a fancy restaurant with the man I served a club sandwich to the other day. I wondered if he recognized me, and if he did, was he upset? Was he angry that he spent all this money on the girl from the cafe? I'm officially a scammer. The server cleared his throat, bringing me back to earth. I nodded, which wasn't exactly a response to the question.

"What would you like?" His brows creased as he looked down at me with annoyance.

A tiny wave of relief washed over me when the server placed a thick brown menu down in front of me. Daring not to look up at Carter, I paged through, pretending I knew what I was reading. Giving up, I closed it shut and met Carter's gaze, and his lips tipped into a smirk.

"What about a lemon drop?" he suggested as he pulled the drink menu from my grasp.

Not knowing what it was, I nodded and hoped it didn't taste bad or land me flat on my ass.

The server nodded and dismissed himself. Placing my hands in my lap, unsure of what to do or what to say, I rested my eyes on the highway of veins running under the skin of his hands.

"You'll like it," he insisted. "It's sugary."

Something about how he uttered that sentence made my heart skip in my chest. It seemed so innocent, yet dangerous at the same time. After meeting with the Madam yesterday, I went home and scanned the QR code. The online application took forever, and half of it I didn't understand. Blindly, I just submitted it all, and within minutes I got a confirmation email with all the information for the upcoming date. Other than Carter's name and age, I knew nothing. There wasn't even a photo. Maybe that was best, though, because I would have skipped town if he'd been an ogre.

I couldn't help the nausea that came over me after that. It felt an awful lot like selling my soul—and body—to the devil. I called Mallory so I wouldn't throw up. As expected, she was excited. I think it was vicarious enthusiasm. The idea of all of this seemed to intrigue her.

After that, I went through the motions, going to work for a morning shift, running by the agency to pick up the gold peacock brooch that I was to wear on my dress, all before rushing back home to get ready.

Everything up until this moment had been a blur. And now, here I was, sitting in front of Carter Castle, the man who was paying for me, who also happened to be the sexy man from two days before that I couldn't stop my mind from wandering back to. How was this real life?

The server set our drinks down, and my eyes widened at the yellow liquid floating around the shallow martini glass. It had a sugar dipped rim with a lemon twist dangling off the edge. He was right; it did look good.

He took a sip of his dark liquor and pursed his lips together. "Are you ready to order?"

"Oh." Heat rushed to my cheeks once more as I glanced at the menu and then back at him.

I closed the menu and pushed it toward the edge of the table. "I think I'll take a Cesar salad."

"All our entrees come with salads," the server interrupted.

I offered a stiff smile. "I'm not very hungry," I lied. But I had no idea how to read this menu or what to order, and the last thing I needed was to add insult to injury as I struggled to pronounce the words of some exotic fish.

"I'll have the filet mignon, medium rare with the truffle butter," Carter said before snapping the heavy menu shut. "Also, the escargot."

Once we were alone again, I offered a small uncomfortable smile and took another sip of the delicious drink. It seemed a little sweeter than the first sip I took, and without thinking, I released a slow moan, and Carter's eyes narrowed as he took me in.

"You like that?" His words came out slow and lingered in the air around us.

I gulped and followed his movements, or rather the movement of his tongue, which slithered across his bottom lip in a swift motion.

"Are you sure you don't want more than that? You can literally have anything you want."

"I'm fine," I lied again.

He studied me before reaching for his cloth napkin and unfolding it on his lap. I copied his actions, assuming it was standard etiquette. In the process, though, I knocked one of my forks onto the floor, semi silencing the chatter around us. I didn't need a mirror to know that my face was the color of a tomato. He beat me to the punch before I could bend down to scoop it up. Crouching over, he grabbed it, and the small contact of his knuckle brushing against my ankle left a trail of fire on my skin. The server replaced the fork before setting a plate down in the center of our table. I stared at it, unsure of what I was looking at.

"Are those…snails?" I leaned in, peering at them with scrutiny.

He took another sip and winged a brow. "You've never had escargot before?"

I shook my head.