My First Daddy (Dark Daddies 7)

“She’s never really talked about you, honestly.”

He chuckles. “Not surprising. She never really approved of my friendship with your father.”

“Really?”

“I was a bad influence.”

I grin a little bit. I can’t imagine Dad having any bad influences. He was always headstrong; never did anything he didn’t want to do.

There’s a short pause and The Bachelor comes back from break, so I decide to let this stranger go. “Listen, it was nice of you to call,” I say.

“Are you busy right now?” he asks suddenly.

I’m a little surprised. “Uh, no, not really.”

“How about we get some dinner? I promise I won’t talk about your dad the whole time.”

I’m taken aback and, like I already admitted, on my second glass of wine. Plus, I’ve been so bored, so alone, and so wrapped up in my grief that I’ve more or less neglected all of my friends in the area. I could use a night out, even if it’s with a total stranger that’s probably only asking out of obligation.

“Okay,” I say slowly.

“Great.” He actually sounds relieved. “Do you know Butcher and Singer?”

“Uh, yeah,” I say. “That’s the fancy steakhouse, right?”

He chuckles again. “Yeah, that’s the one. Meet me there in forty minutes?”

I bite my lip. Not only am I getting dinner, but an expensive, fancy dinner. Who is this guy and why haven’t I heard more about him?

“Okay,” I say, even though I’m not in any state to be anywhere in forty minutes. “I’ll see you there.”

“Just ask for Julian up front. See you soon.” He hangs up the phone.

I shake my head and drop my phone down onto the couch. I stare at the screen, wondering if I should just stay home and watch more Bachelor. But no, my life is pathetic and sad enough already. Even if this dinner is awkward and weird as hell, at least I’m getting out of the house.

And plus, he sounded interesting. His voice was nice, and he made me laugh a little bit. So there’s that.

I sigh and stand up. I sip my wine, turn off the TV and hurry to go get ready.Butcher and Singer is right at the bottom of 1500 Walnut, a fancy street with lots of fancy restaurants. I don’t spend much time around here, except for when I need to stop in at the T-Mobile store next door. I hurry in through the big gold door and step into a dimly lit, enormous room with marble floors and elaborate lighting fixtures.

I feel so out of place. I don’t go out for expensive dinners, like, ever. I’m still a college girl in my mind, and my idea of getting some food always revolves around some form of pizza. This though, this is way beyond me.

I walk up to the hostess. She glances at me and I swear she frowns a little bit. I’m wearing jeans and a sweater, and I know I’m a little underdressed, but there’s no need to be a snob about it.

“Hi,” I say.

“Can I help you?”

I resist the urge to flip her off.

“I’m here to see Julian,” I say, a little hesitantly.

Immediately, the girl’s whole demeanor changes. “Oh, you’re here for Mr. White?”

“Uh, yeah,” I say.

“Wonderful.” Her smile is huge and fake, but at least she’s smiling now. “Right this way.”

She leads me into the main dining room. The ceiling is absurdly high with large marble columns up along the walls. The bar is literally gleaming and there are eight-feet-wide crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. I feel like I just stepped into a movie straight from the 1940s.

She leads me through the room and stops next to a private booth along the right side. It’s still in the main room, but tucked back into one corner, practically the best table in the house.

The man sitting at the table looks up at me and I have to resist the urge to turn and run. His eyes are piercingly blue, almost too pretty. His jaw is handsome and square, and there’s a slight layer of perfect stubble along his cheeks, some of it turning slightly gray, but most of his hair is still a dark brown, cut short and pushed back. He stands as the hostess walks off.

“Avery,” he says. “Wow.”

“Julian?”

He nods and steps forward. I go for a handshake but he pulls me into a hug.

He’s twice my size at least and absolutely built, if I can go by this hug. He’s a big bull of a man, covered in muscles, and handsome as hell to boot. I mean, he can’t be that old, if he went to school with my dad. He must be in his early forties.

“I’m glad you came,” he says, gesturing for me to sit. I slide into the booth across from him as he gets back into his spot. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if you ditched me.”