“You're a baker?”
“Well, you see, Wulf, when someone makes cupcakes for order, and cakes, and cookies, and other desserts, depending on the establishment, that person is generally considered a baker,” she mocked him. She expected him to get angry, but he actually smiled. She wasn't sure if she'd ever seen him smile.
“Feisty. How's your mother?” he asked, sipping at his wine.
They discussed their families for a while. Their mothers were still close, and Katya had only been two years older than one of his sisters, though she hadn't spoken much to the other girl since graduation.
After they'd ordered, Katya found herself feeling more comfortable. More confident. Why was she so intimidated by him? Because he was rich? Because she'd had a crush on him, a million years ago? Refusing to blush, she remembered the woman she'd been the night before; remembered the kind of unbridled passion she'd experienced. She'd been fucked seven different ways to Sunday, in full view of multiple people – Wulf was nothing in comparison to that kind of intimidation.
Just another guy. You weren't scared of Liam – don't be scared of this asshole. You had anal sex last night, for god's sake. He wouldn't even know how to handle you.
Though while they ate, she caught him looking at her sometimes. Looking in such a way that she had a feeling he would know exactly how to handle her. By the time dessert menus were brought around, she was feeling so hot and tense and turned on, she felt like she was about to start running circles around the room.
“The food was lovely,” she said while she waited for her wine to be topped off. “And I even admit, it was fun to catch up with someone from the old neighborhood, but I have to be honest Wulf – why are we out at dinner?”
“For a bright girl, I feel like you don't catch onto things very quick,” he said. His sense of humor was odd, that was for sure. So dry and sarcastic, she wasn't entirely sure when he was or wasn't joking. She decided to take a guess.
“Then enlighten me, and speak slowly, please,” she joked back. She was given another tight lipped smile.
“Well, Katya, when a man asks a woman to share a meal with him late at night, that's generally considered a date.”
“We're on a date?”
She'd blurted it out before she could stop herself, but she was so shocked. Her? On a date? With Wulfric Stone? The world had officially gone crazy. First she's engaging in public displays of indecency, then she's accidentally going on a date with the biggest asshole she'd ever met.
Maybe I'm in a coma or something and this is all a crazy hallucination.
“What did you think this was?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.
“I don't know, I thought maybe you wanted to talk about your order or something. I mean, you acted like you didn't even know me, then you sent your assistant in with a card, what was I supposed to think?” she asked back.
“I didn't really care, I suppose. I just saw little Katya Tocci behind a counter, all grown up, living in the same city as me. Thought it would be nice to sit down together, see what was behind that apron of yours,” he said. She willed away the blush.
“Um … that's … flattering,” she managed to reply, and she finally got a genuine smile out of him.
“It is, isn't it? C'mon, I have an early morning tomorrow.”
He walked her out of the restaurant, his hand on the small of her back, burning a hole through her shirt. She expected him to say goodbye and sail off into the night in a fancy car, leaving her to hail a taxi. But he kept his hand on her as he spoke to the valet, and a minute later, a sleek, sporty, convertible Mercedes rolled up in front of them. He stepped forward and opened the passenger door, and Katya didn't even question him, she just slid into the leather seat.
When had she become so docile? Something about him, it was like he could snap his fingers, and she would bend over backwards. Without even a thought or a question. It was bizarre. She may have been a bit of a goody-two-shoes pushover in her day-to-day life, but she wasn't the type to just let a man strong arm her in any way, either.
“Realty is a good business,” she commented when he was behind the wheel and pulling them away from the building. He glanced at her, then watched while she slid her hand along the dash.
“Very good. A lot better than baking,” he replied, and it was her turn to laugh.
“I'm sure, though baking does alright by me.”
“I bet. Three month waiting list – was that bullshit? You seemed pissed off.”
“I was, but it wasn't bullshit. I'm 'in demand', as they say,” she laughed, doing air quotes.
“Nice. Address, please.”
She prattled it off to him, then got sucked into a conversation about school. They'd taken very different paths, with him attending a prestigious ivy league school on the east coast, and her attending a culinary school in California.
She moved in her seat to somewhat face him, her knees and head pointed in his direction while she animatedly talked about a cooking class that had gone very wrong. She hadn't noticed it happening, but sometime while telling him about the oven catching fire, his hand found its way onto her thigh. She was proud of herself that she was able to keep talking without any hint of surprise, but when he began rubbing back and forth, dipping between her legs, she stumbled over a couple words.
He illegally parked in front of her building and walked her into the lobby. He was on his phone most of the time, and only when she got onto her elevator did he stop talking long enough to notice her again.
“Thanks for being a good sport and meeting me,” he said. She smiled at him, not letting on that she was just a teensy bit disappointed. She wasn't entirely sure that she liked him at all, but it would've been nice if he'd asked for her number, or another date, or anything that showed he was interested in her.
“No problem. It wasn't as horrible as I thought it would be,” she teased. There was one more tight lipped smile, then he started lifting his phone back to his ear.
“Cheers, Tocci.”
Then he was walking away and the elevator doors were sliding shut.
Katya dragged her feet down the hallway and clear through her front door. Tori hollered from the bathroom, and Katya dreaded telling her how the bizarre date had gone.
“Did you see his penis!?” the other girl yelled. Katya rolled her eyes and kicked off her heels.
“Jesus, I'm not some total slut, you know!” she yelled back, tossing her purse to the floor.
“Yes, you are!”
Katya went to respond, but was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. She groaned again and turned around, wondering who it could be at that hour. It was almost ten o'clock at night. She glanced through the peep hole and was shocked to see a very familiar looking tie. She scrambled to pull back the chain lock and yank open the door.