What's Your Price - Page 2

“Not at all. I know who you are and what you’re capable of.”

“And yet you’re not terrified.”

She shrugged. “I’ve done nothing to offend you. I work hard. I haven’t gone running to the police. It wouldn’t do me any good and yet, it doesn’t tell me why I’m sitting opposite you right now.”

“I’m curious. If you don’t want to be a model, what do you want to be?” he asked.

“Left alone.”

He lifted his cell phone and scrolled through the images. There were quite a few, considering she only opened the account three months ago. “This is not a woman who wants to be left alone.”

“Then look at the first picture. It will tell you all that you need to know.”

Seconds ticked by. She rested her elbows on the table and placed her chin on top of her hands, watching. There was no denying Gabe was an attractive man. He was older than her. The suit he wore was a complete and total bullshit camouflage.

He chuckled. “You don’t like being told what to do?”

“Who does?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I’m not one of them.”

“And what happened to this woman? The one who told you that you would never gain any followers because of how you looked?”

“I proved her wrong. There are a lot of people who want to see a curvy body.” She shrugged.

“You’re certainly an interesting woman.”

She tilted her head to the side. “What about you? Do you like being told what to do?”

“I’m in the business of doing the telling.”

She already knew that.

They were silent as the waiter brought them their food. She wrinkled her nose at the small portion. Who actually ate this kind of food and felt full afterward?

“You’re not happy?”

“I haven’t tried it yet.”

“But you’re glaring at the food.”

“I’m not surprised at the small portion. At the end of the day, I was fired from here because I didn’t fit with the owner’s image of being slim enough to work here.”

“Excuse me?”

She looked up and saw his hand clench into a fist. “I used to work here. Apparently, the owner didn’t like that fact and said customers didn’t like having their food served to them by a fat girl.” She shrugged. “I found a much better-paying job.”

Gabe signaled behind him, and a man came forward. The conversation between the two was quiet, which intrigued her, and then she understood.

“You own this restaurant?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Gabe Moore, why on earth are you having dinner with me?”

“You’re finding this all very entertaining.”

“At least it beats watching some kind of soap opera. This is kind of fun.” She twirled her fork in her spaghetti and ate the smallest portion ever. After this, she was so going to have to go find a burger, or maybe a diner. That would be amusing. She’d enjoy the world’s largest milkshake or something.

“Is it good?”

“Yes, it is.” She wasn’t petty, and she finished her plate a few seconds after him.

“Dessert?”

“No, thank you. I don’t enjoy sweet foods. Tell me why I’m here,” she said. Even though she’d been ordered to this restaurant, forced to eat with him, and realized quite frankly he knew way too much about her life than was comfortable, she wanted it to end now.

She wasn’t happy with constantly being the one playing catch up with him.

Gabe sat back as their plates were taken. He shook his head at the dessert menu.

“Tell me what you want out of life.”

“No,” she said. “I’m happy in my life. Thank you. What do you want?”

He pursed his lips, staring at her.

She had an inkling of what he wanted, but he also didn’t like being pushed at his own game. Gabe wasn’t like any other man she’d ever known. Sitting back in the fancy restaurant, she waited.

“I merely wanted to enjoy a meal with a woman who isn’t afraid of me.”

“Good. You’ve experienced that. Can I go?”

****

Later that night, Gabe cleaned the blood from his knuckles, but he still wasn’t happy. The owner of the restaurant had admitted to firing people who didn’t fit his own desired look to serve the customers.

To think Laura Smith could have been right within his grasp and he’d lost the chance to find her, just because this fucker was intimidated by her body. The same body he couldn’t wait to get his hands on. To own. To possess. One look at her at the bar she’d been working at, and he’d been fucking smitten. The clothes she wore served to enhance her large tits, small waist, flaring hips, rounded ass, and thick, juicy thighs.

He’d enjoyed his fair share of women, but Laura, fuck, his cock ached to be inside her. All he wanted to do was take every single part of her. To have his name spilling from her plump lips, or better yet, wrapped around his cock as he fucked her face.

He left one of his men to clean up the mess. The owner would walk, but he was going to have to take an extended vacation to deal with the messed-up face he’d just earned.

Tags: Sam Crescent Romance
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