Chapter 75

I almost immediately discover that…I do not like Edward’s world. Now that he’s got me here, completely under his control? Edward drops any veneer of being nice.

In the car on the way to dinner, he barely pays attention to me, instead spending his time making a variety of phone calls I don’t understand. I’m well aware, after my introduction to this world, that Edward wouldn’t make any phone calls that give me any incriminating information – it seems, in general, that he’s just doing some housekeeping stuff and getting things in order.

But still, it makes me incredibly uncomfortable to just sit in the passenger seat while Edward talks to other people on the speaker, giving orders about his dry cleaning and his daily business. And it very, very clearly tells me where I stand in his world and in the order of things.

When he hangs up after his third phone call, Edward at least has the grace to apologize. “Sorry about that,” he says, though I can tell he’s not sorry at all. “Just needed to finish up some shit. You’ve got my full attention now.”

“Okay,” I say, giving him a little smile and not…really knowing what else to say. I mean, if this was a real date without the power dynamics, I might give him a piece of my mind about how you’re supposed to treat a girl.

But in this world, where he’s the boss and I’m just a bartender who’s supposed to give him whatever he wants? I’m very aware that I am not allowed to do that.

Suddenly, the idea of barfing on his shoes to get out of this feels more and more like a great plan.

“You’re going to love this place,” Edward murmurs, pulling up to the valet stand outside a French restaurant.

“Really?” I ask, looking out at the very fancy façade of the restaurant. “What makes you think that?”

“Because,” he says, shrugging and unbuckling his seatbelt after putting the car in park out front. “Everyone I take here loves it.”

I watch him as I slowly unbuckle my own belt, clearly reading “all the girls I take here” in between the lines of his words.

“Plus,” he continues, giving me a smirk as he puts his hand on the handle of his door. “My apartment is right around the corner.” He lets his eyes linger on my face and then steps out of the car as my stomach twists with anxiety.

So.

It’s that kind of night, is it?

I clench my jaw as I open my car door and step out, placing my fingers in Edward’s waiting hand as he comes around to help me. And as I look up at his handsome face, I realize that this wasn’t a date at all – never was.

It was just…a quick bite before he takes me home to fuck.

God damn it. God damn it. How do I get myself wrapped up in these things?

But as we walk into the restaurant, I know that the answer to that question is that this is all my fault. That I let myself get wrapped up in this – that I liked Edward’s handsome face, the attention he gave me, the fact that he was attracted to me and was willing to touch me.

But it was a mistake – all a mistake. I look around the restaurant, desperately hoping that my eyes will fall on Frankie, that he’ll have somehow intuited where we were going and beat us here.

But, of course, he’s not there.

I sigh, resigning myself to this, and thinking again on Andre’s advice of how to get myself out of this so I can go home.

Unfortunately, there isn’t a great deal of opportunity for me to enact the majority of Andre’s advice, because as soon as we’re seated Edward orders us drinks and proceeds to get very, very drunk. I watch as first two glasses of double bourbon slip down his throat – the same type he ordered yesterday – and then the majority of a very expensive bottle of French wine.

I get a glass from that bottle myself, and it is delicious, but as glass after glass of it passes through his lips I start to marvel, really, about how he’s handling it all. I mean, we haven’t eaten a lot, and after my cocktail and half a glass of wine I’m a little tipsy, so how is he…

But then, after the second time he excuses himself to the bathroom and comes back wiping his nose, I realize what’s going on.

Edward’s preparing himself for a big party tonight, fueled by alcohol and cocaine. And me? I’m just desert.

He leers at me increasingly as dinner passes, even as he talks almost non-stop about…well, whatever the hell is on his mind, I guess. I don’t know, I’m barely listening, instead anxiously murmuring whatever response feels appropriate and occasionally looking towards the door, hoping to see Frankie, Christian, anyone.

But they don’t appear.

“Come on, baby,” Edward murmurs, scootching his seat a little closer to mine after we’ve had our main course, even though we’re already at a very small table. “Relax, have a good time.” He reaches out and drags the knuckles of his right hand down my cheek. “I want you to enjoy yourself as much as I plan to, after all.”

“Plan to?” I ask, gulping a little. I mean, he’s really drunk – is he not having fun yet!?

“The best is yet to come,” he says, giving me a little smirk and letting his eyes drift lasciviously over my form. I cringe a little, my toes curling in my boots, and I wonder how I’m supposed to make myself barf on him. I mean, he’s going to notice if I shove a spoon down my throat…

“Can I interest you in any desert?” our waiter says, with a friendly, hopeful smile on his face. I open my mouth to say yes, to order all the desert in the damn restaurant if it means avoiding getting back in the car with Edward to go on to our next destination, but Edward beats me to it.

“No,” he says, not even looking at the waiter. “Put the bill on my tab.” The waiter nods, walking away, while Edwards lips curl into a slow smile. “I’ve got desert waiting back at my place.”

I sigh, a little, through my nose, though I work hard to keep it off my face. Because I sincerely doubt he’s got anything waiting at his apartment besides a bed and a stack of condoms.

And I absolutely, decidedly am not interested in that tonight. Nope, all I want to do is go home to the penthouse, and put on a set of my coziest pajamas, and have a big glass of wine from a bottle that I don’t have to share with a cocaine-fueled mafia boss, and just…relax.

“Come on,” Edward says, standing up and offering a hand to me.

“But,” I say, sitting straight in my surprise and looking out after the waiter. “The bill…”

“They know who I am, Bambi,” he murmurs, laughing at me a little bit, like the naïve mafia newbie I am. “Trust me. It’s taken care of.”

I sigh, standing by myself and pretending not to notice his hand. “Well, thanks, Edward,” I say, hoping that some pleasant niceties will end the night smoothly. “I really enjoyed this –“

“Wait till you see what comes next,” he says, grabbing me suddenly by the waist and pulling me tight to his side. I gasp, surprised by the force of him. I stare up into his face as he drags a finger slowly down the length of my cheek. “Party’s just getting started, Bambi.”

And then I give a shocked little shriek when he whips that hand behind me and smacks me, hard, in the ass.

Edward just laughs.

“Edward!” I hiss, looking around at the eyes that are definitely on us now, the people who absolutely just saw this man spank me. “We’re in public!”

“Who gives a shit,” he murmurs, slurring his words a little as he takes my face in his hand, squeezing my cheeks between his thumb and his forefinger. “I own this town.”

I try, desperately, to pull my face from his hand but his expression turns nasty while his fingers tighten. “What did I say, Bambi,” he growls, leaning closer to me.

I go still, staring up at him, remembering suddenly that he likes his girls obedient and that this could get very, very dangerous if I keep pulling away.

But even as I go still, and nod, and allow myself to be compliant – even as he murmurs “good girl” and drops his hand from my face, tightening the arm around my waist and starting to lead me from the restaurant – I realize that it could get violent either way.

Suddenly, I know intuitively that I’ve got to find a way to end this date right now, or I’m going to pay for it.

As we walk from the restaurant, my eyes dart around, trying to figure out a way out.