Page 24 of Triple Protection
Growing up with a strict Italian mother didn't leave room for emotions, let alone expressing those emotions. Emotions were a nuisance to be suppressed or ignored. I suppose when my father left us when I was young and my mother had to raise me on her own, the only way to survive the pain and stress was to kill thoseemotions before they even formed. I guess I inherited her coping mechanism when it comes to emotions. It doesn't matter. Not having emotions has helped me make smart decisions under fire and helped me readjust to life back home.
I turn to leave, but not before seeing my girl wipe her cheeks, twist her neck from side to side, and refocus on her computer. Inwardly, I smile. Good girl. In our suite, I make a pot of coffee and grab a bag of popcorn from the concierge stand, before returning to her silently. She ignores my approach, but I sit the coffee and popcorn next to her. She looks at me then, a surprised smile on her face.
"Thank you," she whispers before taking the coffee. My hands itch to touch her. I want to tell her I was wrong about her, that I'm proud of her, and that she's the most incredible woman I've ever met. But the words won't come.
Before I can stop myself, I tuck a piece of hair that fell from her bun behind her ear, letting my finger linger a moment longer on her neck, just over her vein. She gasps as she looks up at me at the unexpected touch. Seeing her sitting below me, looking up at me with her bright green eyes, looking at me like I hung the moon, with her plump pink lips opened just slightly in surprise.Fuck.
Without another word, I return back to my room and lay under the blankets on my bed. I replay her little gasp in my head and it goes straight to my cock. Now is not the time to develop a crush on my client.
Chapter nineteen
Liam
"What do you mean, you've never been on a date?" I ask, trying desperately to hide the shock and incredulity in my voice. I don't want her to feel judged. I just can't wrap my brain around the idea that this beautiful woman has never been wined and dined. The world isn't that cruel.
It's been a week since we returned from Texas and we've fallen back into our comforting routines.
She throws me a one-shouldered shrug. "Unless you count the pizza and a movie Bobby Shanholzter took me to the night I lost my virginity, I've never really been on a date. I became popular online just after high school. I tried to talk to a few men here and there, but it always went one of two ways: they turned into creepers or they wanted to ride the coattails of my fame and use it to promote their own stuff. Eventually I just gave up."
Her body language guts me. Her shoulders and her eyes are cast down, but she tries to steel her face to look brave. In an instant, I know what I have to do.
"Get dressed. I'm taking you on a date."
"What?" She looks at me unbelievingly.
"Come on, baby. I know life's not fair, but a beautiful woman whose never been wined and dined is just a travesty. Go get dressed like you would for a date and I'll make the reservations." I check the clock on my phone. "Pick you up in an hour?"
She giggles at me then, knowing we live together and 'picking her up' involves walking out together, but I want to give her the full date experience. It might be a challenge to put it together in an hour, but I get to work. She runs up the stairs to her room, giggling.
Fuck, this is going to be fun.
......
An hour later, I ring the doorbell, smiling like a kid at Christmas. She throws the door open quickly, with a heart-stopping smile on her face. God, she's gorgeous.
She's dressed in a sweet yellow sundress that stops mid-calf and cute little ballet flats. Her hair is half done up in a pretty braid-like thing, and her makeup only enhances her natural beauty, instead of being over the top. I hadn't given her any hints as to where we were going, so she played it safe with her hair and makeup. Regardless, she's stunning.
Suddenly, the idea of walking into a restaurant with her on my arm makes me preen like a peacock. Her soft femininity makes me feel more like a man, and I can't wait to show her what a real man's like.
I hand her the bouquet I had managed to score just as the flower shop was closing. I asked the older woman closing up shop which flowers meant 'beauty', so she arranged a gorgeousbouquet of purple and white peonies for me. Angela gives me a quick little gasp when she sees them.
"Liam," she sighs. "They're stunning. When did you have time to do all this?" I'm not going to tell her I spent the last hour running around like a madman to book the reservations for dinner, and after dinner fun, plus the flowers, plus getting showered and dressed myself. Plus, the 20 minutes convincing Alex it would be safe. I'm wearing my shoulder hostler under my suit coat and the last-minute plans leave little opportunity for anyone to plan an attempt on her. I can't give up the impression that I'm anything other than cool as a cucumber.
She steps back to allow me to enter, playing the game well. "Let me just put these in a vase. I really can't believe you did all this."
Cocky and in teacher mode, I reply. "Don't ever go out with a man who doesn't bring you flowers on the first date. It shows the man is thoughtful and wants to make a good first impression on you."
She leans forward for a quick kiss on my cheek, and I breathe in her perfume. I've smelled it all before, on the plane, in the hotel rooms, just living in close quarters with her for so long, but tonight she's my date, and I'm going to enjoy everything that is Angela.
She finds a vase under the island in her kitchen, quickly fills it with water and arranged the peonies. She carefully takes a moment to arrange them just so, letting me know she really cares for the gesture. She takes a deep breath before looping her arm around mine.
"Alright, let's go on my first date!" she squeals, the excitement evident in her voice.
We lock the front door behind us and I step forward to open the passenger door to my car. My chest swells with pride as she takes in my candy-red painted Ferrari. It's not the mostexpensive car, but even women who aren't impressed with cars tend to appreciate its sleekness.
She practically vibrates with energy as I round the car and get in the driver's seat. I rev the engine, eliciting another giddy squeal. Fuck, she's so much fun. The way she responds to everything makes me feel like a superhero. A man could get addicted to this.
....