Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Haru smiles.
A great big smile, and he’s quite good-looking with a marble jaw line. “Absolutely. I’ll be right back.”
I’ll show Jackson Paris. I can eat gonads, I can wear a corset, I can flirt with a hot waiter, and I can go to Black Rose Underground. I am so done being sweet and virginal little Mandy Cake who always takes the safe route.
Haru brings my fork, and I gobble up the last of the sea urchin. I’ll probably never order it again, but hey, I went out of my comfort zone. I finish the rest of my sushi, all of which is delicious, but I still miss my unagi.
Damn Jackson anyway. From now on, I’ll order whatever I want, whether Jackson recites it to me or not.
The next time Haru comes by, I gesture to my martini glass. “Another, please?”
“Absolutely.” He grabs the empty glass.
“Another?” Jackson says.
“Yeah, a martini is oddly good with sushi.”
I’m not even lying. The vodka martini got a lot better after half of it went down, and it goes well with raw fish. Who would’ve thought? I don’t drink a lot, though, and it’s pure booze. This will be my last one. Especially if I do end up going to the club. I want to be fully alert there.
Jackson doesn’t order another sake.
I’m not sure why that strikes me as strange. Jackson usually has two drinks. Sometimes even three. I’ve never seen him drunk, come to think of it.
He doesn’t do anything that may make him lose control.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Oh, yes. He’s definitely taking me back to the club.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jackson
The club opens at nine. It’s eight thirty when we finish our sushi. Too early to go to the club yet.
“Well?” Mandy says.
“Well, what?”
“Are we going? To the club?”
“Are you sure you want this?”
God, let her say no. Please. Because if I take her to the club, I have to show her.
I have to show her why she doesn’t belong there.
And why I can never have her.
I don’t like this side of me. Not at all. I was a complete ass at dinner about the sea urchin gonads. I gave her shit that she didn’t deserve, and she was a great sport about it.
Why can’t I just walk away from this? Let her explore her sexuality in her own way? This doesn’t have to involve me, so why…
I can’t finish the thought.
“I’m sure, Jack,” she finally replies.
“It doesn’t open until nine.”
“That’s fine. I’ll just have another drink.” She gestures to Haru.
I grab her hand and bring it back to the table. “No more drinks, Mandy.”
“Why not? It will take the edge off.”
“That’s just it. You can’t take the edge off. If I’m going to take you to the club, you need to be fully aware of everything you’re doing. You need to be able to tell me to stop if you want to.”
God, that blush. Over her cheeks, the tops of her rosy breasts…
She’s going to be the undoing of me.
And it dawns on me.
I’m not afraid that she won’t like my dark side.
I’m afraid that she will.
That she’ll like it and want it…and after three months, I’ll lose interest and it will be over. But it won’t just be another notch on my headboard for me. It will be the end of the most significant friendship I’ve ever had.
The other half of me.
“All right, Jack. No more drinks.”
Good. No more drinks. For either of us. Except that now I have half an hour to fill.
“How about dessert?” I suggest.
“I couldn’t eat anything more. The corset and all.”
She’s right. Plus… If I’m going to introduce her to the darker side of my lifestyle, I don’t want her belly full and bloated. How can I get out of this?
I motion to Haru for the check. He brings it, and I throw my credit card on top.
“I can pay for my own,” Mandy says.
“Don’t be silly. I invited you.”
Haru takes the card, brings it back quickly, and I add my usual twenty percent tip. For a split second, I thought about giving him twenty-five percent, as his service was impeccable, but I didn’t appreciate how he was eyeing Mandy like a hot-fudge sundae every time he was at our table.
Of course, every man in the place is eyeing Mandy. She’s wearing a damned corset.
I rise and offer my hand. “Ready?”
She declines to take my hand, which is unusual. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Her words aren’t lost on me. She’s not ready for what I have in mind, and no, she won’t ever be. But it’s best that she find out now.
Again, the fear pokes at the back of my neck—the fear that she is ready, that she’ll like what I’m going to show her.
No. She can’t. She has to hate it.
Then maybe I can get her out of my mind.
At least out of my sexual mind. Forever.