Billionaire's Second Chance
“Seriously though, to these next six months,” he said, clinking his glass to mine.
I sipped the bubbly drink and it tasted like a mixture of white wine and orange soda, something that sounds gross on principle but my God, was it delicious. I closed my eyes, letting the sweet, fizzy taste sink into my taste buds. This was why everyone made such a big deal about champagne.
“You like it, then?” Zayden asked with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
“It’s a step above Bud Light for sure,” I smiled at him, and took another huge gulp.
“That’s a shame,” he said looking at the butler. “You went through so much trouble locating the perfect bottle for no reason, Mark. Her standards are at Bud Light—you could have picked up anything bubbly from CVS next door and it would have served nicely.”
“Noted for next time,” Mark joked back.
There was something inherently pleasant about the way Zayden was so relaxed and friendly with his staff. Aren’t men like him supposed to be complete dickheads?
“To both of your disappointment, I now am spoiled to be partial to
nothing but the best,” I said sipping some more of the goodness.
“Time for appetizers,” Mark said, removing the lid from one of the silver containers to reveal succulent looking sushi rolls. “Spicy tuna rolls. Sean had the fish transported from Japan only a few hours ago. It was practically fished this morning, so I hope it’s fresh enough.”
I felt a rush of excitement flood through my veins. Spicy tuna rolls were among my absolute favorite foods. What were the chances?
“Nah, I am sure it can’t beat the 5 dollar rolls from China Garden across the street that I’m used to,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though I was dying to taste one.
When I did, I could just about cry with happiness. Perfectly soft, slightly crunchy and so, so spicy. I let out an involuntary moan.
“Tasty?” Zayden asked, looking delighted by my reaction. “I’ll stick to plain old California rolls. I’m the victim of mundane taste buds.”
“Suit yourself,” I said between mouthfuls. It made little sense, though. Why would he ask his chef to make spicy tuna rolls if he couldn’t handle some spice? I couldn’t be too bothered about it, however, as I was too busy putting one sushi roll after another into my mouth. I had already gobbled up an entire portion in less than five minutes. I probably looked like an uncivilized moron. Just one more…
I had sufficiently devoured two whole portions when I heard Zayden say, “I will take it from here for the entrees, Mark. Thanks for your help tonight.”
He handed him what looked like five 100 dollar bills and added, “Share it with the guys and thank them for me.”
Mark took the cash, looking completely unphased, as though this was a daily occurrence. It probably was.
When Mark left with the remaining appetizers, there was an awkward silence for a few minutes, and I almost wished I had another sushi roll there just to keep myself occupied. Zayden was looking at me straight in the eyes, not a single expression on his face. Should I say something?
“Is that a push-up bra?”
What? The question was so random and bizarre, I couldn’t help but snicker.
“I don’t have to answer that question,” I said pouting.
“Sorry.” He didn’t look sorry, as his eyes were now fixated on my breasts. “I am just a little distracted.”
His seductive ways weren’t going to stop.
“Let’s see what’s for dinner,” I tried changing the subject and lifted off the lids of a couple of silver containers. What the hell? The sushi could maybe just be a coincidence but there was no way that this entire dinner accidentally constituted of my absolute favorite dishes. The aroma of rich Indian spices filled the room and one small container was specifically reserved for spicy peppers.
“You don’t look happy,” Zayden said, looking concerned.
“No, no!” I widened my eyes. “I’m just… really surprised. I adore Indian food, and spicy peppers, and spicy anything. And you said you couldn’t even handle the sushi so how come-”
“I called your emergency contact, some Ms. Stacey Pace this morning, asking about your dietary preference.”
“You didn’t!” I exclaimed, feeling a mixture of amazement and slight annoyance at Stacey. She could have told me. Whose side was she on, anyway?
“I hope you enjoy dinner,” he said, looking extremely pleased with himself.