Holt
I press my hand to the small of Saige’s back as we leave my office, and I catch Mrs. King fighting back a smile as I guide Saige down the long hallway to the elevator bank. Her long legs poke out from her dress, and her heels make her legs appear even longer. Fuck me. I can’t stop picturing her propped on the edge of my desk with those long legs wrapped tightly around me.
I hear Saige say something, but I’m so caught up in visions of her naked in my office that I don’t actually hear what she says.
“Excuse me?” I ask, shaking off my impure thoughts.
“Where are we going?”
“I have reservations at Prime Grill.”
Her eyes widen. “Holt, you don’t always have to take me to these insane restaurants. It’s lunch. I’m fine with soup from a deli.”
Soup. I almost laugh at her. “They have everything there. Salads, burgers, steak, and even soup, Saige. Whatever your heart desires, I’m sure they’ll be able to make you happy.”
I want to make you happy. I want to be what your heart desires.
“Mr. Hamilton,” Mr. Jones greets us. Mr. Jones is a driver that Jackson-Hamilton has at our disposal, mostly for dropping me at the airport, or driving me around town for meetings, but today I’m using him to take us to lunch.
“Mr. Jones,” I acknowledge his greeting. He opens the back door of the Town Car and holds it open for Saige.
She looks back over her shoulder at me before she slides into the back seat. “A driver?” She raises her eyebrows at me once I’m settled next to her.
“We pay him handsomely. He needs to earn his keep.”
“A cab would have been fine.” She rolls her eyes at me and blows out a puff of air.
“Saige.” I shake my head. She’s going to have to get used to enjoying some of Jackson-Hamilton’s perks once in a while. “Why do you question everything?” I try not to sound annoyed. As much as I love her banter, I want her to appreciate some of the amenities I can offer her.
She chews on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to question or argue. It’s just that . . .” She pauses. “Some of the extravagance makes me uncomfortable.”
“Extravagance?” Is she serious? It’s a Town Car, not a limo.
“Yeah. The VIP status. The private cars. The exclusive restaurants.”
“Saige,” I whisper, running my thumb across her soft cheek. “Trust me. That is far from extravagant. You want extravagant, let me fly you to Rome on one of our private jets or shower you in diamonds. That’s extravagant. This is lunch. And the other night, I took you to a nightclub. Far from extravagant.”
She raises one eyebrow. “The most exclusive nightclub in Chicago, Holt. That is extravagant.”
“Would you rather eat at McDonalds? I can arrange for Mr. Jones to deliver us there instead.”
She sighs and lets out a small laugh. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?” I snap at her, having difficulty keeping my annoyance at bay.
“I just want you to know that I don’t need the private clubs, the VIP, or the extravagant meals,” she says softly.
“I know you don’t. But I like giving that to you.” I pull her hand into mine.
She shakes her head and swallows. “It’s too much, Holt. Too fast.” She pulls herself away from me just slightly.
Shit. I slide over to her, pulling her to me. “Don’t pull away from me, Saige.”
“Then slow down,” she begs.
“I don’t know how,” I blurt out, feeling reckless and unlike myself. That’s what she does to me.
I run my knuckles over her soft cheek, and her eyes flutter closed. “But I’ll try,” I promise. Her head falls to the side and into my palm. Goddamn, she’s so beautiful. Leaning in, I press a kiss to her soft mouth, gently tugging on her bottom lip. Her body reacts to my touch as it always does, and I feel my cock stir.
Lunch. I’m taking her to lunch, I remind myself. Get yourself together, Holt.
“Jones,” I call to the front seat.
“Yes, sir,” he answers.
“Change of plans. Please take us to McKinney’s instead.”
He nods at me in the review mirror, and I pull Saige’s hand into mine. If normalcy is what she wants, I will oblige.
We’re tucked away in a booth in the back of the dimly lit Irish pub. The place is normal, not extravagant, just as she asked.
Saige squeezes a lemon into her iced tea, and I have to admit, she looks much more in her element. “I love it here.” She smiles across the table at me.
I lean back against the wooden booth. “I’m glad,” I answer her. “I used to come here all the time when I returned to Chicago after college.” I think about how quickly my tastes grew more expensive over the course of a few years. It wasn’t long ago that McKinney’s was high-end for me.
She sips her tea and sets it down on the cardboard coaster. “Speaking of college, tell me about Columbia.”
My entire body tenses as she begins to ask more questions about my past. “What do you want to know?”