10. Ella

Chapter 10

Ella

"Is there something wrong with what I'm wearing?" I fidget in my chair, feeling self-conscious about my outfit. Has he noticed that I've worn this dress before? This is so embarrassing, but I had no choice. At twenty-two, I haven't had the need or income to collect fancy attire suitable for a place like The Starlight Room. It was far too soon to wear the black dress I wore last night, and my only alternative was the red dress I wore for my eighteenth birthday party. It was a safe assumption he wouldn't recall a dress I wore four years ago. After all, men don't remember dresses, do they?

Grant shakes his head once and exhales slowly, his eyes hooding as he appears to undress me with his eyes. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with what you're wearing. You look stunning."

"Stunning? I'm not sure anyone has ever referred to me as that. But thank you. My mother chose this for my eighteenth birthday, and I haven't worn it since. Red has never really been my color," I say, folding and refolding the napkin on my lap, hoping to burn off enough nervous energy to finally look him in the eye.

Grant leans forward, grasping his glass of whiskey but never bringing it to his lips. "Believe me when I say that red is your color. I've thought about this dress many times since your birthday party. You looked almost as unforgettable as you do now."

I'm lucky he likes to see me in red because my cheeks turn twenty shades of crimson before I'm able to respond. The evening is going far better than I imagined, but I'm still unsure what our date means. Are we in an arrangement with more dates to come or is this a one-time thing?

"You're very kind. I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with kindness, compliments, or someone paying such an exorbitant amount of money to take me out to dinner. The form said there were no strings attached but I feel the need to ask if you have strings you wanted to attach to me?" I nervously push the chicken around my plate, my hand trembling as I listen to the thrumming beat of my heart echoing in my ears.

Grant tilts his head slightly, his intense gaze fixed on me through the warm glow of flickering candles that dance between us. "Tomorrow, the club will cut a check for 1.5 million dollars to you," he says, his voice low and serious. "They're keeping a fourth of what I paid, but you should still have enough to cover your tuition, late fees, and everything you need for your own place." He pauses, his expression thoughtful before continuing. "Whatever happens next is entirely up to you. I don't want you to spend time with me out of desperation. You're free to make your own decisions."

"I really can't accept that kind of money, Grant. I appreciate your attempt to help me, especially since my parents haven't given me a dime. But it's way too much money for a date. It feels strange to say this to your face, but you would never need to pay me for a date. That's one thing I'd gladly give you free of charge." The words seem to emerge in slow motion as I casually show him my cards—something I swore I'd never do.

"You will accept it. If you don't take it, I won't get it back, the club will keep it. And I would have paid twice as much for an hour of your time." Grant's words hang in the air, heavy with possibility and uncertainty. "The ball is in your court, and if this is our first and last date, then I am determined to make it a memorable one." His eyes shimmer with a mixture of hope and longing as he waits for my response.

"Do I need to decide anything right now?" I lift my bowed head and gaze at him from beneath my lashes. His blue eyes remain fixed on me, sparking blue orbs that seem to pierce through me, reaching into the depths of my soul. He's beyond beautiful, with chiseled features and an air of elegant masculinity that exudes experience. This situation is not what I had imagined, but as I continue to lock eyes with him, I can't help but feel drawn in by the power and intensity of his gaze. If this arrangement means being on the receiving end of that smoldering look on a regular basis, I'm more than willing to discuss its terms.

"It's a big decision. Take your time."

* * *

"Would you like a taste?" I delicately scoop a small spoonful of pistachio gelato and present it to him on the tiny utensil.

His lips part in anticipation as I slowly move the treat toward his mouth. As he savors the taste, a deep, guttural hum escapes from his throat, causing my body to tingle with desire. I imagine how the vibrations would feel against my skin, sending shivers down my spine and causing my nipples to tighten in response.

"Please, try this." Grant offers a taste of his chocolate gelato and watches my reaction as he gently places the small spoon between my lips.

I try to maintain a composed expression, but I can feel myself melting under his gaze. How he manages to make even such a simple act seem hot is beyond me, and I suddenly wish I had more experience in the art of seduction. Everything I do feels childish. When I let out a soft moan, my body tenses with mortification, fearing my over-the-top appreciation makes me sound like a cat in heat.

Grant's bright blue eyes twinkle with amusement and his lips curve into a playful smile. In the moment, he looks almost mischievous, as if he has a secret to share. "It's good, isn't it? Something this delicious can almost make you forget your troubles."

I glance at Grant and playfully offer him the final spoonful, raising an eyebrow in question. "Is this all it takes?" I ask with a smirk, gesturing to the empty cup in front of me.

"I'm sorry I didn't know you had it so bad at home. Your father liked to portray himself as a family man and I assumed that included you. I never knew you spent most of your childhood with your grandparents." Grant hands me a napkin and dabs the tip of my chin, gently wiping away a spot of gelato—a gesture so simple yet so charged. It sends a shiver through me, an electric thrill I struggle to contain.

"What could you have done? We were hardly more than acquaintances." I want to ask more poignant questions and perhaps uncover the depths of his feelings, but I can barely keep the conversation flowing consistently. I'm too enraptured by the way his eyes light up everytime I speak to conjure a coherent thought.

"Maybe you're right. There wasn't much I could have done. If I'd fired your father, that might have affected you negatively and if I'm being perfectly honest, I don't remember much about you before your birthday party. That's probably for the best."

I'm surprised to see Grant's face turn pink and I'm happy he'd display such vulnerability in front of me. I'm desperate to know everything about him.

"I didn't have an unhappy childhood. My grandparents took good care of me, especially my grandmother, Eleanor. She was my saving grace. Her passing forced me to move back in with my mother, but I always, always carry her memory close to my heart." As tears form, I look away, not wanting to put a damper on our date.

"I'm sorry for your loss. She sounds like a lovely person." Grant lets the back of his hand graze mine before our fingers lace together naturally, holding on to each other as if we were made to fit. "You know, I can't remember the last time I felt so close to anyone. I'm not used to letting anyone in, but there's nothing about you that gives me pause. On the contrary, you just might bring out the best in me. I feel like I've lived my life on a bizarre autopilot of work and sleep, surviving but never really living."

I nod, finding it hard to speak as my voice catches in my throat."I feel close to you too." He's not wrong. Our connection is palpable, like a magnetic pull drawing us closer with every passing second. Can people truly fall in love so quickly?

As our evening continues, we stroll through the quiet streets, hand in hand, the sound of our footsteps in perfect sync. Every so often, he stops to admire something—a street performer, a quirky shop window—and I watch him, completely enamored by his newfound zest for life and wanting so badly to be a part of it.

Eventually we find ourselves on a weathered bench near the park, our fingers intertwined and our shoulders pressed together, sharing a comfortable silence that speaks volumes. In this moment, it feels as though the universe has aligned to bring us here—like all roads were always meant to lead to this precise point in time.

"I'm very happy you showed up at that club," Grant whispers, then brings my hand to his lips."I needed to find a way to ask you out."

"Me too," I reply sincerely. "I almost didn't go." And then I take a chance. In a burst of courage fueled by our connection, I lean in and our lips finally meet.

Grant's kiss is soft and hesitant at first, as if he's seeking permission. But as I respond, his kiss deepens, growing more passionate with each breath. Our evening of pent-up emotions, desire and longing are released in one blistering kiss that melts away all my inhibitions.

I don't want to go home tonight. I need to find out where this passion takes me.

When we break away for air, we gaze at each other, smiles spreading across our faces. This may not be an ordinary relationship and right now I don't need to define it. Living in this moment with him is enough.