Mister Moneybags(42)

The look on Dex’s face told me I’d made the right decision when I walked into the kitchen. He was looking at some pictures of my nieces that I had hanging on the refrigerator and turned when he saw me.

“You look…” he trailed off. Then made a face. “Maybe you should change?”

I frowned. “You don’t like my dress?”

“I f*cking love the dress.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dex walked to me. “You look beautiful. Red is definitely your color. But that dress…I’m going to get myself into trouble tonight, and I know it.”





Dex had taken me to one of the most exclusive spots on the Upper West Side. The Chapel restaurant was an old church converted into a high-end eatery. Featuring original stained glass windows, it was popular not only for the ambience but for its eclectic fusion cuisine. It took weeks, if not months, to get into this place.

Unfolding my cloth napkin, I said, “I’d ask how you managed a reservation, but I assume you can pretty much get whatever you want in this city.”

“Well, if that isn’t the most ironic statement of the year. I most certainly cannot get whatever I want. If that were true, I’d be underneath this table right now with my head between your legs.”

I clenched my muscles. “You’re such a horny bastard.”

He played with his watch. “I’ve never tried to hide that fact from you. And your face is turning redder than that gorgeous dress. You know you love the thought of my head buried beneath your skirt, my mouth getting you off. Admit it.”

I did.

“It’s a pleasurable thought, yes.”

“You’ve learned through the course of our talks that I’m damn good at what I do for a living, but what you haven’t yet realized is how damn good I am with my tongue. That’s not something I could have described in an interview, of course. It’s just something I’ll have to show you when the time is right.”

Dex had an unbelievable ability to appear so composed when he was talking dirty in public places. I would bet anyone watching him from afar could have easily assumed we were just talking business. I, on the other hand, was squirming in my seat.

He wiggled his brows. “By the way, I brought you something.”

“Oh?” I grinned.

He took it out of his inside pocket. It appeared to be another little wooden animal. Unlike the last one that he’d given me—that Jay had given me—this one was far from perfectly carved.

“I made this for you,” he said proudly.

“What is it?”

“It’s a goat. You can’t tell?”

“Oh, I see,” I lied. I couldn’t tell what it was. “This is all your handiwork?”

“Yes. I’ve been taking lessons from a master whittler. By the time he’s through with me, I plan to whittle you the world, baby.”

“That’s really not necessary. Why do you feel the need to continue that part of your fa?ade?”

“It’s not about that…at all. I think I accidentally developed respect for an art I’d originally made a mockery of. And now, I truly enjoy trying my hand at it. I’m also in a very disturbing, one-sided competition with a ten-year-old YouTuber.” He cracked a smile. “Is that weird?”

“Yes.” I laughed. “But you’re a little eccentric and weird yourself… in a good way. So, it fits.” I looked down at the barely recognizable goat. “This is precious, though. I’ll cherish it even more than the first one, because it’s really yours.”

“Good.” He winked.

After we finished our meal, my attention turned to a couple who’d just arrived. They were sitting diagonally across from us. The woman was tall and gorgeous and much younger than the man. Her blonde hair was parted to the side and pulled back into a low bun. A thin strand of pearls lay atop her champagne-colored, satin, sleeveless top. A bright red Birkin bag that I knew must have cost in the tens of thousands sat on the ground next to her seat.

When the woman’s date got up from the table, her eyes locked with mine before she started to type something.

Dex’s phone suddenly vibrated, prompting him to look down and check it. He then turned around and looked straight at the blonde. She was now smiling directly at us.

What the hell?

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

“That woman just texted you?”

He gritted his teeth. “That’s Caroline.”

Caroline.

My stomach sank. Suddenly, the woman who had seemed attractive seconds ago became ten times more gorgeous in my mind—more threatening. I realized the mouth that was curved up in a smile was the same one that had been habitually wrapped around his “beautiful cock.”

Riddled with jealousy, I asked, “What did she just text you?”

Dex knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with hiding it, so he simply handed me the phone.



Caroline: So, this is the reason you won’t f*ck me anymore…



I gave it back to him.

Caroline noticed that he’d shown me the text and began typing again.

When his phone buzzed, I asked, “What does it say?”

He reluctantly turned the screen toward me.