I rest my hand on the door handle, but he shakes his head and jumps from the car. My eyebrows shoot up, and he appears at my window a second later with a cocky smile on his face. I shake my head when he opens the door and holds out his hand.
“M’lady.”
I laugh and take it, stepping from the car. “You’re an idiot, Tyler.”
“I’m being a gentleman. Aaron would hold good on his threat to render my c**k useless if I were anything less than one. And”—he pauses as he opens the restaurant door—“I have to admit to being rather attached to it.”
We’re immediately led to a table when the host recognizes Tyler. But not just any table—the best available table. It hits me now that, despite his relaxed, carefree attitude, Tyler is in London what Aaron is in Seattle. Well-known. Respected. The upper class.
Our drinks are served within a minute of us taking our seats, and there’s no great long wait for food like I’m seeing for some others. There’s a mix of both familiar and unfamiliar faces here—the familiar ones being people I’ve seen on the insides of glossy magazines and once or twice on television.
Holy shit. London is the British L.A. It’s celebrity central in this place.
I somehow manage to make it through dinner without drooling over my plate. Tyler sits opposite me, completely unaffected.
My job has taken me to places I never imagined I’d visit and introduced me to people with a standing so high I shouldn’t rightfully be alongside them, but there’s rich and then there’s rich.
Watching Aaron’s cousin so at home in this obviously exclusive restaurant, I know what bracket he and Aaron fall in.
Stinking f**king rich.
I know Naomi said that Aaron would be the one to tip the business over the billion-dollar mark, but I don’t think it sank in. I don’t think it’s hit me until now how much money he really does have.
How dangerous it could be if the knowledge of who I am, who I was, was made public.
“Dayton?” Tyler waves his hand in front of my face. “Are you okay?”
I blink harshly and turn to him. “Yes. Sorry. I was just thinking for a moment.”
“Would you like pudding, or…?”
“I’ll have a dessert.” Aaron sits on the seat next to me and adjusts his tie. “I’m starving.”
“Well, hello.” I shift my body so I’m facing him. “How did you know we were here?”
“I’m Aaron Stone. I can find out anything.” He winks and grabs the menu. “Has Tyler been behaving himself?”
I wink across the table at the man in question. “He’s been a real gentleman. Even opened doors for me.”
“Is he sick?”
“If we weren’t in such an exclusive establishment, I’d have a few choice words for you,” Tyler retorts. “And I’m perfectly healthy, thank you.”
“Perhaps there’s hope for you yet, my man.” Aaron turns to me. “I think I’ll have the chocolate fudge cake. What about you?”
“I’ll have the same.”
“Ty?”
“Not for me. I’m going to end my dry spell.” He stands and brushes his shirt off.
“Dry spell.” Aaron snorts. “Forty-eight hours?”
“Thirty-six. I’m never going the extra twelve again.” He motions to a waiter. “I likely won’t be back home tonight.”
“Don’t forget you have a shoot tomorrow,” Aaron looks up at him.
“Lingerie, isn’t it? With Jenna Kelly?”
Aaron nods. “For Catalina. In the office studios.”
“Shit. I hate shooting in those. I’m sending in my own lights this time. Last time, we had to rebook.” Tyler runs his hand through his messy hair and looks to me. “Wanna tag along?”
“Am I allowed?” I look between them both.
“You’re the boss’s girlfriend. You can do whatever the hell you want,” Tyler answers.
Aaron smirks. “You can if you want to. I’m working all day.”
I narrow my eyes and tap his arm. “Is this a setup? The last time I went to a shoot, I ended up being shot.”
“Photographically, I hope.” Tyler laughs. “No setup. I promise.”
“Sure. I’ll go.”
“I’ll pick you up at ten.” He takes his jacket from the waiter. “See ya.”
Aaron orders our desserts and places his hand over mine on the table. With his other, he pours me a glass of wine and accepts the whisky he’s offered. His thumb slowly rubs along the side of my wrist, tickling the tender skin there, and when I look up, his eyes are on mine.
“What?” I ask softly.
“How do you manage to look so beautiful when you’re barely wearing any makeup?”
“Your mind is blurred by all the models you’ve seen parading before you today.”
He leans into me and runs his nose up my cheek. “And every single time, I was wishing it were you.”
“I know where this is going.”
“You considered it before. Will you again?”
I pull back and suck my bottom lip into my mouth. I did. I would. I have. I can’t. Our dessert is placed between us with two forks, and Aaron nods his thanks.
I take my hand from his and grab a fork, stabbing it into the cake. This is too soon to have this conversation. It’s too soon to have any kind of conversation about anything past right now.
I forgive him, but I don’t know if I fully trust him. And this is the funny thing about trust. You can love and forgive, but you don’t necessarily trust. Broken hearts and promises can be fixed so easily because they break in a different way than trust. When trust is broken, it’s shattered into a thousand pieces. And sometimes, it’s never put back together the same way.
Aaron takes the fork from me, resting it in the bowl, and sighs. “Dayton.”
“We’re not having this conversation. Not here and not now. If I decide to leave Monique, we’ll discuss this.”
“It really doesn’t matter to me if you leave her or not. You’ll belong to me either way.”
I look into his eyes, forceful and determined. “Aaron, I’m not going to say this again. Working for you isn’t something I think I can comprehend. I don’t want to be the girl who got an ‘in’ because she’s f**king the boss. If I ever decide I want to model, I’ll do it because it’s my decision, and I’ll carry the weight of it on my own shoulders. I won’t roll over and be signed by you just because I can be.”