Dirty Little Secrets (Dirty Little #1)(18)
“There is no way out of it,” I tell him. It’s the first time I’ve voiced the words that I’ve known deep down in my bones since the moment I left Chicago. “There’s no undoing it, there’s no pretending I didn’t steal a…” I cut myself off, because I absolutely should not say that over the phone, even if I’m fairly certain that no one is listening. I don’t want to start getting careless. “Maybe I should just enjoy life while I can and hope for the best?”
“Don’t talk like that. I’ll go tell him I’m the one-”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Please. He knows it was me, Marcus. There is no sense in getting yourself in trouble when he’ll just come after us both, then. We’ve discussed this before, please don’t make me say it again, okay? I need this to not be for nothing. I want to believe that he’ll give up, and that I can stay here and…be happy.”
“Yeah, maybe he’ll give up,” Marcus says sadly. I know he doesn’t believe that. I don’t, either, but it’s a nice thought.
It would be a life lived with me constantly looking over my shoulder, and I’d never get to see Marcus again. But the thought of a clean slate is appealing, even though I’d always know what I had done. The prospect of just being happy is a nice one. I haven’t felt really, truly happy in so long.
“Mia-”
“I should go,” I tell him. Caleb is picking me up for dinner in an hour, and I have to get dressed and over to the hotel he thinks I’m staying in before he arrives.
There is a long silence before Marcus finally says, “Okay. Call me again as soon as you can.”
“I will,” I tell him, even though I’m not sure it’s the truth. “Bye, Marcus.”
“Goodbye, Mia.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
On what I’m considering to be our first real date—which I am defining as an outing that does not include dinner and sex at Caleb’s apartment—he takes me to an up-and-coming hotspot in TriBeCa. There’s a line spilling out the door that stretches all the way down the block, but Caleb’s driver lets us out out near the front door, and we walk right up. Caleb doesn’t even have to show the host any kind of identification, we just walk right in and pass all of the other people waiting for a table. Inside, a hostess greets Caleb by name, and guides us to our table.
The inside of the restaurant is two stories, but still manages to be very cozy. The whole place is lit with candlelight, and long, white tied-back drapes cordon off different sections of the restaurant, breaking the large space into smaller, more intimate ones.
We’re guided to a table in the corner. It’s secluded, and I get the feeling that this table is frequently given to Caleb when he eats here.
Caleb slides my chair out for me, and helps me push it back toward the table once I’ve settled in. Goosebumps cover my skin as his hand glides across my shoulder as he moves to take his seat across from mine.
“They treat you like you own this place,” I tell him with a smile.
Caleb shifts in his seat, looking uncomfortable, his eyes focusing on his hands, which are folded on the table.
“Oh my god,” I say, stunned. “You do own this place.”
My eyes go wide, I can’t believe it. I look around, and…wow. This is his. Not sure why it hits me so hard, or why it shocks me the way that it does.
“It was an investment,” he says casually, like restaurants are things that everyone puts money into. I find the blasé way he talks about it to be both charming, and a little maddening.
“I can honestly say that no one has ever taken me to their own restaurant on a date. This is a first.”
“Good,” he replies, grinning. He looks more relaxed than he did a moment ago. “Firsts are good, especially when they’re with me.” He gives me a sly little wink as the sommelier comes to the table and pours us some wine. Apparently Caleb had called ahead and asked for it to be decanted. Based on my sampling of the wine collection at Caleb’s apartment, I know that he has excellent taste, which means I’m in for a real treat here.
“I hope red is okay?” he says, like he doesn’t already know how much I love it. We toast to firsts, and clink our glasses together.
And wow, this red is really, really good.
“So, how does this work?” I ask, noticing that the waiter didn’t bring us any menus, and no one has been by to take our order.
“I called ahead and put an order in. I think you’ll like what they bring out for us.”
“Like it? I’m sure I’ll love it.” The restaurant smells like heaven; if that’s any indication of how the food tastes, ‘love’ might not be a strong enough word.
I take a sip of my wine, and close my eyes, letting out a soft sigh of satisfaction.
“You look beautiful,” Caleb says, reaching under the table and caressing my knee. “I look forward to making you look like that later. More than once,” he says, with a playful glint in his eyes.
I feel the flush creep into my cheeks, and look down at my glass.
“Hey,” he says softly. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
When I look up, he’s giving me this intense look that makes me glad we’re seated away from the crowd. “You’re driving me crazy in that dress.”