Because He Owns Me (Because He Owns Me, Book One) (An Alpha Billionaire Romance) (6 page)

I hesitated, not knowing what to do.

Should I approach the car?
 
How was I supposed to know if he was
even in there?

A second later, the passenger window rolled
down.

I bent down and peered inside.

Callum was sitting in the driver’s seat, and he
motioned for me to get into the car.

I walked across the sidewalk, opened the door,
and got in.
 
He was on the phone, or
at least, I thought he was.
 
He was
talking to someone – he must have had a Bluetooth in or something.

Did anyone even wear a Bluetooth anymore?
 
He must have been talking about
something private that he didn’t want me to hear.
 
Otherwise, why wouldn’t he just put it
through the speakers of his car?

A few minutes later, we pulled up in front of a
restaurant in MidTown.
 
The city was
alive with the energy of the middle of the day as business people rushed to get
their lunches before they had to be back at the office.

“You ready?” Callum asked, ending his call as
he pulled his car up to the valet.

“Um, yes,” I swallowed, not sure how I felt
about the fact that he’d been on his phone the whole drive over.

My trepidation grew as soon as we walked into
the restaurant.
 
I was completely
out of place in the short yellow sundress dress I’d chosen to wear.
 
I’d thought I was being clever –
choosing something yellow after Callum had sent me those lemons and yellow wildflowers.

But the crowd here was decidedly business
casual, all of them decked out in shades of black, grey, tan and grey.

I flushed, instantly self-conscious.
 
I was wearing open-toed sandals for
God’s sake!

`The maitre’d seated us in the middle of the
restaurant at a square table for two.

Callum immediately pushed the menu aside and
regarded me over the table.
 
“What’s
wrong?”

“What?”

“You seem displeased.”
 
He tapped his finger on the table
expectantly.
 
He was even sexier
today than he’d been last night, wearing a light grey suit that set off his
blue eyes.
 
His hair wasn’t mussed
like it had been last night, and was instead perfectly styled.
 
He was freshly shaven, his skin smooth
and perfect.
 
He radiated
self-assurance, and every time he talked I couldn’t help but think about how
he’d ordered me around last night, telling me not to look at him, to use my
hand while I sucked him off.

“No, I’m not displeased.”
 
I ran my eyes down the menu, trying to
hide my disappointment.
 
Stop!
 
I scolded myself.
 
You have no one to blame for this but
yourself.
 
Where did you think he
was going to take you?
 
Some fancy romantic
restaurant where he would feed your dessert and order for you?
 
That’s a fantasy.

“You’re disappointed in the restaurant,” Callum
said.

“Nope.”

The waiter returned to take our drink
order.
 
Screw this.
 
If I was going to be stuck on this date,
then at least I was going to get a good meal out of it.
 

“I’ll have a glass of sparkling wine,” I said
to the waiter.
 
“You pick your
favorite.”
 
I gave him a big smile,
knowing if I told him to pick his favorite, he would inevitably come back with
whatever was the most expensive.
 
“And an appetizer,” I said, scanning the list.
 
“Actually, can I try the caviar canapés
and
the smoke salmon cakes?”
 
I glanced
over at Callum.
 
“Would you like an
appetizer? I’m pretty hungry, so I won’t be sharing.”

“Just seltzer with lemon, please,” he said.

When the waiter was gone, I continued to scan
the menu.
 
“I think I’ll have filet
mignon,” I said thoughtfully.
 
“Medium
rare.
 
With some of those fingerling
potatoes everyone’s always raving about.”

“You have quite the appetite, Ms. O’Connor,”
Callum said, his deep blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Yeah, well, I skipped breakfast.”
 
It wasn’t a lie.

The waiter returned with my wine, set it down
in front of me.
 
I took a sip.
 
“Delicious!” I declared.
 
“Thank you so much.”

The waiter nodded.
 
“Would you like to order now?”

“I’m ready,” I chirped.

“Give us a second,” Callum said, and the waiter
scampered off.

Callum sat there for a moment, not saying
anything.
 
His eyes narrowed the
tiniest bit, like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve.
 
His silence was disconcerting, and for
the first time, I realized maybe I was out of my element.
 
I shouldn’t have messed with him like
I’d had, ordering enough food for three people.

I will be punishing you.

I felt myself starting to blush, and I averted
my eyes from his, looking around the restaurant.
 
No one was on a date, that much was
clear.
 
The restaurant was filled
with businesspeople, their cell phones sitting on the table as they passed file
folders full of documents back and forth.
 
No one was
laughing,
no one was having a
spirited conversation.
 
They were
all serious.

“Adriana, it’s obvious you’re upset,” Callum
said, sounding disappointed.
 
He was
watching my face for some kind of reaction.

“I’m not upset.”

“Why are you upset?”

“I just…” I twisted my napkin in my lap.
 
“It’s just a strange place for a lunch
date, that’s all.”

He sighed and sat up straighter in his chair.
 
“I don’t go on dates.”

I laughed out loud.
 
Of course he didn’t.
 
“So this isn’t a date?”
 
I saw our waiter passing by and I
motioned him over.
 
“I’m going to
need to see a dessert menu with our entrees,” I said.
 
“And any kind of after lunch drinks you
might have, some ridiculously expensive espresso maybe, that you fly in right
from Italy?
 
Yeah, I’m going to want
that,
too.”The
waiter gave me an indulgent smile,
then turned and walked away.

I turned back to Callum and readjusted my
napkin on my lap.
 
I took a big sip
of my wine.
 
“Yum,” I said.
 
“Definitely going to need another of
those.”

Amusement danced in his blue eyes.
 
“You do realize I’m a billionaire,
right?”

“What, you want some kind of medal?”
 
It was a bitchy thing to say, and I
regretted it as soon as I said it.
 
But Callum didn’t seem to take offense.

“No, I just mean that there is nothing you
could order in this restaurant that would even come close to impacting me
financially.”

I shrugged.
 
“A billion dollars isn’t what it used to
be.”
 
It was an insane thing to
say.
 
A billion dollars was a
billion dollars.
 
But I’d read something
in Forbes magazine about a million dollars not being what is used to be, so I
figured I’d throw it out there.

Of course, even at the time I’d read that story
I’d thought it was completely ridiculous.
 
How could a million dollars not be a lot of money?
 
And now here I was, telling Callum his
billions of dollars meant nothing.

“Is that so?” Callum asked, pretending like he
was seriously considering it.

“Yup,” I said, “read it in Forbes.”
 

“Good magazine.”

“Very.”
 

Silence fell over the table, and then, finally,
quietly, I looked at him.
 
“So if
this isn’t a date,” I said,
 
“then
what is it?”

“A business meeting.”

“A business meeting?”
 
I frowned.
 
“You want to give me a job?
 
No offense, Callum, but I’m not sure
after what we did last night it would be appropriate for me to work for you.”

I couldn’t believe what a jackass he was
being.
 
What part of him thought it
was okay to ask me to come and work for him after I’d given him a
blow job
at a BDSM club? I mustered up all the indignation I
could, and yet, somehow, I felt like he wasn’t all that bad.

There was a depth to him I could sense lurking
under the surface, a kindness.
 
Which actually made everything about him worse.
 
If he was a total jerk, I could have written
him off.
 
But the fact that I sensed
something redeeming in him only made it harder to resist the pull he had on me.

“No, I don’t want to hire you,” he said.

The waiter returned then, and took our order
– filet mignon for both us.

“So then what is this about?”
 
I asked Callum once the waiter was gone.

“I want to be very clear with you,” he said
carefully.
 
“I would like to see you
again.
 
This weekend, actually.”

I shook my head.
 
“I thought…I thought you said you don’t
date.”

“I don’t.
 
This wouldn’t be a date, it would be…an arrangement.”

“What kind of arrangement?”

“The kind of arrangement that lasts for one
night only.”

I frowned.
 
“One night only?”

“Yes.”

“What does that mean?”
 

“This weekend I will be traveling to Florida
for business.
 
I’m going to be
checking out a basketball team that I may be interested in investing in.
 
I would like you to accompany me.”

“Okay.”
 
My palms were slick with sweat, and I wiped them against the napkin on
my lap.

“Okay, you will accompany me?”

“No, I meant okay I understand.”
 
And I did.
 
He was basically telling me that he
wanted me to come to Florida with him so he could fuck me any way he liked,
probably use whips and chains and all the other crazy BDSM contraptions I’d
read about – butt plugs, hand cuffs, vibrators with remotes.
 
“You want me to be a prostitute.”

“What?”
 
he
said, almost choking. “No, I don’t want you
to be a prostitute.”

“But you just said one night only.”

“Adriana, to be a prostitute, one must take
money for sexual services.”

“So you weren’t going to pay me?”

“No.”

“Then what do I get out of it?”

He reached under the table and grabbed my leg,
his mouth slipping into a teasing grin.
 
“Pleasure.”
 
His touch was
searing, his voice a low sexy growl.
 
I felt my body responding to his touch the same way it had done last
night, and I cursed it for betraying me.
 
His hands rubbed my knee, and heat flooded between my legs.

Why oh why had I worn a dress?

Because you thought it was a date.

“For only one night?”

“Yes.”
 
He sat back up, pulling his hands off of me.
 

“But why only one night?
 
What if you like it?”
 

He shook his head.
 
“Adriana, it’s very important to me that
you know exactly what it is I’m offering.
 
I need you to know that no matter how much fun we have, no matter how
mind-blowing the sex – and it
will
 
be
mind-blowing – there
will not be another night together.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not interested in that.”

“You’re not interested in being with the same
woman twice?”

“No.
 
And if there is any part of you that is thinking you might be able to
change my mind, I will tell you that there isn’t.
 
It is not going to change.”

“Okay.”
 
The thing was, I
didn’
t think I could change his mind.
 
I was sure he’d been with gorgeous
women, beautiful women, models, actresses,
socialites
.
 
Why would someone like me be able to
change his mind?