Page 37 of The Rich One

“Yeah, thank you.” This time, my smile is genuine. It’s easy with him. He returns it, a sexy crinkle forming in the corner of his eyes as he does.

“Would you like to join me for dinner sometime?”

“I’d love that.”

I appreciate his change of subject. He looks like he wants to ask more about the phone call, but he’s holding back.

“Good. Want to walk me out?” As he stands, he holds his arm out for me to slip my hand through. This man has been nothing but the perfect gentleman all afternoon. It’s a new experience for me, and I like it a lot.

We exit Coco’s together, and it almost feels awkward again as we just stand there and stare at each other. It’s like each of us is wondering how best to do this whole goodbye thing.

Nathaniel makes the first move, bringing his hand up to cup the side of my jaw, his fingers on my neck. He leans in and gently kisses the side of my mouth. It’s such a friendly move, but it feels so sensual I almost swoon right there.

“Catch ya later, gorgeous.” With a lingering smile and a wink, he turns and walks away. Can’t say I’m sad about watching him walk away… his jeans hug his tight ass beautifully.

Before I can start my walk home, my work phone pings. It’s a text from Tyler.

Rich One:Are you free this weekend? My parents are in town. I need you from Friday.

That feels a little personal, the parents, but fuck it. I need to keep myself busy. The heavy-breathing and screaming phone calls are starting to piss me off. Combined with what happened a few weeks ago, I won’t lie to myself and pretend I’m not shaken up about it all.

Maybe it’s time to re-think my no guns in the apartment rule.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

Traffic in Manhattan on a Friday night is hit or miss, depending on what’s going on or what shows or games are causing chaos. Aaron picks me up at six-thirty p.m. so we can make it to seventy-fifth and Lexington on time for seven.

I check my reflection in my small mirror, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear out of nervous habit. I take my job seriously, and showing up pristine for my clients is also in the fucking contract.

Although, truth be told, no one ever mentioned meeting the parents. I don’t like it but it’s not really the end of the world.

Straightening out my emerald-green skirt, I admire the intricate lace overlay that flows all the way up to the bodice and across my shoulders to form sleeves. Tyler bought it for me on a business trip to Prague a few months back, and I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to wear it.

“Anything I should know about Tyler’s parents? We didn’t discuss this so I’m at a loss here.” The partition is always down when it’s only Aaron and me. It’s fun trying to get information out of him. For example, I know he has a nephew and three nieces from two sisters, and a brother who has vowed never to have kids. His family is of Irish descent, his ancestors coming over the Atlantic during the potato famine. I chuckled at the stereotype that is so common here among true New Yorkers.

“I don’t know them all that well, but I know Mrs. Walker is a smart cookie and his father doesn’t talk much, but he sees everything. Their son takes after them in that respect.”

Okay, so that means I need to be on my game. The touching, the lingering gazes like I’m so taken by my handsome boyfriend. I need to play the part of the besotted girlfriend and make him look like the king of the world.

I can do that. Hell, all I need to do is think about the sex and the numerous orgasms he’s delivered to make sure my face screams “my hero.”

We arrive at the Coq d’Or with five minutes to spare—Tyler standing on the curb, one hand adjusting his tie—giving me a second to put on my game face.

“Okay, Aaron, wish me luck.” I take in a deep breath before plastering a smile on my face.

“You’ll be perfect, I have no doubt.” Sweet man.

When the door opens, Tyler is there, eyes bright, smile wide, extending his hand for me to take. His light gray suit pants and white button-up shirt are snug against his firm body, the shirt open at the top and flashing a little of his sculpted chest. I can’t say I hate the view. Helping me out of the car, he gives me a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth and whispers, “You look absolutely stunning.”

I grin, and as I air-kiss his cheek, I whisper right back, “I hope so, you paid for this dress.”

“That I did and I have zero regrets. Remind me to rip it off of you tonight when we get back to my place.”

Well, then. Okay.

“My parents are on the way. Quick update… My mother is Suzannah and my father is David. They’re respectively fifty-eight and sixty-two years old. My mother is a cancer survivor, but she loves to talk about it and her charity work. She handed over Astor’s Department Stores to me four years ago when her health didn’t allow her to continue.” He punctuates his words with a deep breath like he’s just run a marathon, except he’s given me his family history in a nutshell.

“Well, I could have researched all of that on the internet.” I tilt my head to his tall frame and smile like I’m the most smitten of all the kittens when I spot a paparazzi fail at being discreet behind the corner of the building.

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