Page 38 of Roots of the Wicked

He wiggled a finger at me, his smile widening. “You’re not interested in either. Two of the many reasons I decided I wanted to date you.”

Two of many? What were the others? I swallowed my curiosity, choosing not to enrich our connection or endorse a relationship between us. A relationship was a waste of time.

Thankfully, the slowing car pulled his attention away from me. Paul drove us past the bustling front entrance of the restaurant. A line of expensive cars waited there, releasing the social elites who strutted across a rolled out golden carpet to the entrance. Since big-named stars frequented the place, paparazzi and a crowd hung out hoping to snag a money shot, selfies, or an autograph.

Although set to enter through the back door, I left the back of Chase’s Silver Bentley, allowing him to escort me into Tantalize like I was a superstar. An enclosed covered area led from the vehicle’s open door and into the building, blocking out any lurking paparazzi. The area appeared to have been specifically designed for the wealthy who valued their privacy over fame.

Chase made me feel special, the way he kept smiling and staring with pride. He had managed to sink his claws into me, leaving a mark that pressed deep enough to leave an imprint on my heart. I had returned his embrace back in my apartment. Had agreed to go out to dinner with him. I was starting to believe I wanted this with him when I had never wanted it with anyone else.

Once we entered the back door, a short hall took us into a standing foyer that eventually led into the dining area. We managed minimal contact with the rest of the dining patrons. My face creased in curiosity. Was that Leonardo DiCaprio? My intention wasn’t to gawk, but I couldn’t help myself. I mean come on…It was Leo DiCaprio. He lifted his glass in my direction and offered a friendly smile. I waved like the starstruck fan I was.

“Chase, I must say, you make it easy for me to forget you’re on the same level as these A-list celebs.” I craned my neck to get a good long look at Lady Gaga, who, like Leo, offered a friendly smile and waved at us. He chuckled, “You make me forget it too. Which is refreshing.”

“Let me,” Chase insisted once we arrived at our table, and the waiter reached to pull out my seat. He held my chair and waited until I sat down, his smile never wavering.

We were being seated in one of the best private rooms in the place although the paparazzi weren’t allowed inside the restaurant. Enclosed by dark frosted glass on two sides and bricked in at the head of the table, the small room housed decretive accents that gave it a homey feel. The final wall was a digital screen displaying a live streaming night view from the top of the Empire State Building. The cozy plush leather of the chair slid across my ass like butter. Chase didn’t sit across from me, he slid into the chair next to mine, so that he could enjoy the viewing screen, and I believed to stay close to me.

Once seated, we renewed our conversation. “Was that a compliment I heard earlier?”

“Yes it was. The last time we had dinner. I answered all of your questions accept one. You asked me, what made me normal?”

It was just occurring to me that he hadn’t given me a direct answer to that specific question. Now, I was dying to know the answer.

“The answer is you. You make me feel normal Jax. You made me remember how to smile, truly smile. And laugh. And listen to the world around me. To soak it in versus glossing over it.”

His revelation had me glaring like I was seeing a clear picture of him for the first time. He had placed me on a petal stool so high, I felt lightheaded for a few seconds.

“Wow. Thank you. I…I…”

He chuckled. “I know. I’m so amazing I make you speechless.”

I swatted his arm playfully, but was grateful he had saved me from fumbling over my words. I wasn’t good with sentiment and discussing feelings and emotions.

“Are you this discreet when I’m not around?” I asked, taking in our surrounding.

He leaned closer as if anyone could hear us. “I keep in mind that I have to keep myself out there, so sometimes I serve myself up. However, I’ve gotten really good at pulling off disguises. I attend live sporting events as just a regular guy who sits in the stands and cheers with the rest of the crowd.” I enjoyed the way his face lit up at the mention of sporting events. I recalled him mentioning his dream was to be a professional baseball player.

“Do you enjoy any specific game? Your face is well known, how would you possibly get away with being among us commoners, even in disguise?”

“Beard, prosthetic nose, contacts, mouth-piece. Learned it all on the set of the movie, Shackles of Unrest, when they gave me a cameo. I enjoy attending live football, baseball, and basketball games. Seeing them on television is one thing but nothing compares to the live action, the cheering crowd, the smell of peanuts, chips, and beer mingling with cigarette smoke and bad breath.”

“Sounds like a good time,” I said, wrinkling my nose.

“I’ll take you to the next game I attend.”

I nodded, not refusing him.

Good Girl, my inner voice cheered. Was I finally giving in to this dating thing?

“During baseball season, I’ll attend my old high school and college games.” A look of longing appeared in his expression before he cast it away.

“May I ask you something?” he questioned before I could inquire more about him and baseball. The strained expression and tone indicated we were diving into deeper waters.

Although reluctant, I nodded.

“Why aren’t you on any type of social media? Why does it appear you rarely go out? You have one female friend outside work, and she’s rarely around. When we were at the expo, every time anyone came near me with a camera, you wanted no part of it. Also, I couldn’t find one photo of you, anywhere, which in this day and age is unusual, especially for someone with a successful business that could benefit from an active social media presence?”

My eyes sat, unblinking. Chase had been curious enough to dig into my not so personal business, but he clearly wanted more. I swallowed a heavy load of hesitancy, not wanting to lie, but feeling the need to give him something to put a quick end to the subject.

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