The light turns green and he drives up several blocks before turning into a recently paved restaurant parking lot. It’s a large, modern-looking building and looks like it cost a pretty penny to build.
This is probably where all the rich folk go, I think to myself. A small thrill goes through me. I’ve never had a man spend more than a couple of hundred bucks on me and I’m sure Logan is about to drop that much on one meal like it’s nothing. After everything, I would think I’d feel guilty about this, but I don’t. I’m excited to be taken to dinner. Especially somewhere so nice. I try not to analyze it too much, looking out of the window at all the beautiful details on the building. It’s late and dark, but the uplighting is exquisite.
“Don’t think about it now,” he tells me as he pulls into a parking space. “Let’s get dinner first and then we’ll talk about it.”
I open my door before he has a chance to walk around and open it. Which is exactly what he was going to do, judging by the look on his face.
I’m not going to be good at this. I’m not going to meet his expectations. My insecurities grow as he takes my hand and walks me into the restaurant. I try to shake it off, but every click of my heels against the pavement brings us closer to the obvious conclusion. I wasn’t bred for this like he was.
As we approach the door, he leans down and kisses my cheek, giving my hand a squeeze, “It’s just dinner,” he whispers. I’m caught off guard by the open display, but he seems unaffected and easily releases me, as though it wasn’t unnatural at all. I’m overthinking everything. I breathe in deep as we walk through the door.
The opulence of the decor in the is breathtaking. The restaurant is sectioned off in several areas, but all the materials used in the architecture are top-notch. Crown molding lines the ceilings, the floor is paved with gleaming marble and the tables are dressed with fancy tablecloths and gold-plated silverware.
An older man dressed in an expensive suit and greying hair greets us at the door. He must know Logan well, because he greets him with a wide and genuine smile along with a handshake.
“Mr. Parker, how are you this evening?” he asks in a rough voice that shows his age.
“Very well, Jacob. And you?”
He smiles kindly, causing wrinkles to form around his eyes and says, “Just fine, sir. Let me lead you to your table.” I admire the dining room as we walk through to a private room lit with dim lighting cast by a few candles that Jacob lights as we slip into opposite sides of our booth.
The candles give off a sweet, smoky scent that fills me with warmth. It’s simply gorgeous.
I hesitantly smooth out my skirt, trying my best to take it all in as Jacob asks what to start us off with to drink.
Logan answers, “Waters please, plus a large wine glass, and Cabernet?” he asks me and the two of them look at me for an answer. I nod slightly and feel like an idiot. All he did was ask if I want wine, and yet I can hardly answer. I breathe out slowly and relax. It’s just dinner.
“Right away sir,” Jacob says before disappearing from the room. I’m fidgeting in my seat, fiddling with my salad fork and trying my best to adapt. I can feel Logan’s eyes on me, but I’m not ready to look him in the eyes.
“You’re overwhelmed.” Logan speaks clearly although it’s formed as a question.
I answer honestly, “Yes, this is overwhelming. All of this is overwhelming.”
“If you would just relax, you would be enjoying yourself.” I believe what he’s saying, but it just simply isn’t that easy.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “It’s my job, and you’re my boss.” I try to think of a way to explain it, but he interrupts my train of scattered thoughts.
“And we both have needs. I know you feel the tension that I feel. You want me, and I want you.”
“We shouldn’t though.” I shake my head, my eyes pleading with him to understand.
He takes in a breath to speak, but then looks over my shoulder. I hear the door softly close and then a young waiter is at our table.
He pours a bit of wine for Logan, who doesn’t drink it but nods at him to continue. I say a soft thank you and take my glass as the young man goes over the menu.
“May I order for you?” Logan asks. I’m quick to nod yes, although I’m not sure I’ll be able to stomach any food. I’m full of nerves and apprehension. I take a sip of the wine and listen as he orders a stuffed chicken, beef tenderloin and salmon. I think they were three separate dishes, but maybe one is a combo. I’m not sure.
I give the waiter a polite smile before he leaves, my fingers running along the rim of the wine glass. “This is uncomfortable, Logan,” I finally admit to him.
“Why’s that? This is meant to make you feel more at ease.”