She narrows her eyes. “How did you get my number?” Holding up a finger, she says, “Wait. Don’t tell me. Gus gave it to you.”
I don’t bother to correct her. “You won’t ignore my calls in the future. Coming alone was dangerous. You won’t put yourself at risk again.”
She laughs, leaving her bag on the side table that has been conveniently placed there for that purpose. “Already giving orders? On a first date?”
“It won’t happen again,” I stress.
She leans back in her chair, a challenge flashing in her eyes. “Won’t it?”
I smile, but my voice holds a warning. “You’re not a child. Don’t make me treat you like one.”
The taunting expression is wiped off her face. “You can’t tell me what to do. I don’t belong to you.”
The waiter arrives with our wine.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I say as he uncorks the bottle. “Soon, we’ll have a contract to prove it too.”
The man doesn’t react to the animosity in the air. He serves a little wine in my glass and waits patiently.
Taking my time, I taste the wine. It’s one of my favorites—a smooth-bodied and well-rounded red Veenwouden blend. I have a feeling it’s the only thing that will be smooth about this evening. I nod at the waiter, who serves us before leaving as fast as he can.
I raise my glass. “To us.”
“You’re mighty sure of yourself.” She crosses her arms. “Isn’t that a bit of a premature conclusion?”
Shrugging, I drink a solitary toast. “Our engagement is imminent.”
The line of her finely sculptured jaw hardens. “If it’s so certain to happen, why are you wining and dining me?”
“I prefer to do things in the right order.”
“Like last Saturday?”
“Gus jumped the gun,” I say with regret. “I would’ve preferred to break the news to you differently.”
“It doesn’t matter how you break it. It won’t make it good news.”
“If you give me a chance, you may find that you like me.”
She only glares at me.
“I thought you’d want me to at least make an effort,” I say, motioning at the romantic setting with the candle and wine.
“I want nothing from you,” she says, animosity sparking in her pretty eyes. “I’ll fight you on this with everything I’ve got.”
I smile. “You don’t want to go to war with me, darling. You won’t win.”
She gnashes her teeth so hard I swear I hear the crunch.
“Do you always buy your women?” she asks with contempt.
I’m not sure if she’s referring to the money I gave her to buy herself a meal or to the deal I’m making with her stepfather, but I’m not ashamed of giving her the truth. “Yes.”
Her eyes flare. It wasn’t the answer she expected. There’s a lot of nasty things she’s yet to learn about me, but none of them will make a difference, because she’ll still be mine.
“You’re despicable,” she says.
I don’t mind being judged, but I won’t be accused of something I’m not guilty of. “They never complained.” Leaning closer, I add, “On the contrary, they were always happy to see me. They even looked forward to me coming back.”
Her cheeks flush red. Pushing her chair back, she jumps to her feet. “Good for them, but I’m not for sale. You can’t have me.”
“Here’s something you’ll learn about me.” I take a sip of my wine and drag my gaze over her perfect body. “I always get what I want.”
She grabs her wine glass, wrapping her fingers in a fist around the stem.
“Sit down, Violet.” I leave my glass on the table and meet her furious gaze. “If you throw that wine in my face, I’ll pull down your panties and spank your ass so hard you won’t sit for a day.”
Disbelief widens her eyes. Indignation burns in their depths. Clenching her jaw, she chucks the wine across the table. The liquid hits me straight on the chest, soaking my jacket and shirt.
The chatter and clinking of cutlery go quiet around us.
“That wasn’t in your face,” she says with a thin smile, slamming the glass so hard on the table it’s a miracle it doesn’t break.
Snatching up her bag, she stalks from the restaurant as fast as her disadvantage allows.
I get to my feet, staring after her as I wipe my shirt with a napkin. When she shoved the money down my pants, I knew I was going to make her mine. Now I know without a doubt I’ll never let her go.
Being a gentleman, at least in certain things, I let her make a gracious escape before going after her.
CHAPTER 18
Violet
That son of a bitch.
I storm across the parking lot, my head bent low as I fumble in my bag through lipstick, my phone, and tissues for my car key.
I was wrong about Leon. He’s not like Gus. He’s worse.
I’m so consumed with anger I don’t register that someone is following me until a strong arm wraps around my waist and lifts me off my feet.