Kingpin (Bride of the Billionaire)

We arrive at the Violet Vine ten minutes later, and I glance over at Ella, who’s smiling devilishly at me from her seat.

“Really? The Vine on a Friday night? This place is booked months in advance.”

The Vine is the most popular new restaurant in the city, frequented by celebrities, athletes and the ultra-wealthy who flock in from Beverly Hills to sample the three-star Michelin cuisine.

Ella’s perfect lips twist into a smile, and she crosses her arms under her bountiful breasts.

“Shouldn’t be a problem for the Ice Man, should it?”

Ah, now I see her game. It’s a test—a shit-test as they call them in the dating world. She’s trying to see what I’m made of. If I’m all talk or if the rumors about me have been greatly exaggerated.

And she’s about to see that they aren’t.

I grab my phone, keeping my eyes on her. “It won’t.” I make a quick call to one of my men and hang up.

The lights of Los Angeles bathe her beauty, causing her to glow like an angel. For a man with a heart as cold as mine, I sure am going through a hell of a lot just to spend time with this girl. But why aren’t I just taking her right here and right now? Why am I hesitant? Being delicate with her?

“How’s a girl like you, with a body like that, end up a virgin at eighteen?”

I expect her to be taken aback—to scowl or glare at me. Instead, she looks away like she’s embarrassed.

“No one was interested, I guess.”

“Bullshit,” I scoff. “If we’re going to spend time together, Ella, I have a rule. Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying!” she protests.

“You’re a goddamn cheerleader, for fuck’s sake!” I laugh. “Every big-swinging-dick from here to Texas must have been fighting for a chance with you.”

“I only joined the team to try and fit in…” she says quietly. “To try and fit in. Guys don’t seem to be into tomboys who would rather spend time at the ocean or the aquarium than a party with the cool kids.”

My phone buzzes, and my driver gets out and holds the door for me. I go around to Ella’s side and take her hand. “Our table’s ready.”

If I wasn’t so used to being recognized, I might feel awkward as we walk into the restaurant and every eye in the place is on me. Some of the men try to play off their insecurity, probably reminding themselves of just how much money they made this month, but I see right through them. Lawyers, bankers, agents, producers. I don’t give a shit. I’m the big dog here tonight.

They’re probably wondering who the sexy cheerleading girl with me is and whether or not they can sign her or put her in a movie. Sorry, fellas. She’s mine.

The waiter seats us, brings us sparkling water and takes our drink orders. I get us a bottle of champagne. He doesn’t ask for IDs. Smart guy. I also order for both of us, which Ella seems to like.

Damn, this is like a real date. I haven’t been on one of these since I was a teenager—back when I was still just Sasha, not the Ice Man. Many of the diners have their eyes on my men, standing guard out on the sidewalk. It’s routine for me, but not for Ella, and she looks anxious.

It’s then that I realize I may have made a huge mistake.

“You’re scared.”

“I—maybe a little,” she admits.

The waiter pours our champagne, and I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

Ella’s face drops. “I can go…”

“I don’t mean it like that,” I tell her quickly. “I want you here, Ella. You can’t even possibly know how much I want you here, but…it’s dangerous. For you.”

I reach beneath the table and take her hand in mine. So soft. No calluses. Nothing rough about it—the opposite of mine. Just touching her sets a fire ablaze inside of me, but also sends a chill down my already cold spine as I get a glimpse of what life could be with her—outside the depraved life I’ve carved out for myself.

I could be normal. I could be happy.

But at what cost?