A Dance for Him (22 page)

If I’d first met him in this guise, rather than in his preppy but slightly rumpled professorial persona, I’d probably never have dared to talk to him.

I’m so glad I bought that dress! It isn’t anywhere near as fancy as what he’s wearing, but at least it doesn’t look as out of place beside him as anything else in my wardrobe would have been.

And he seems to like it too, thank heavens.

When I showed up he was waiting for me outside his expensive sports car (leaning elegantly against it, of course, just like in the movies), and let out a low whistle when he saw me - kissed me, then opened the door for me and closed it after me.

We made out for a bit when he got into the car as well, but it didn’t go any further than that - he said that if we got any more carried away he’d probably need to fuck me right there and then, which under any other circumstances would be fine, but we had a dinner reservation, and he’d rather we saved the playing for later, when there would be more time.

So now we’ve just gotten out to the highway after a bit of difficult traffic, and he must be more relaxed, because he’s just reached over to rest his hand on my thigh as he turns and smiles at me briefly before turning his attention back to the road.

“So we should be there soon. You know, Paige, you look absolutely gorgeous today. Of course, you’re a very beautiful young woman, and so that’s hardly difficult for you to do, but you’re positively stunning in that dress. I really should take you on more dates, shouldn’t I?”

“I’m glad you like it,” I reply. “I actually went and bought it yesterday … After I Googled the restaurant name I thought I’d better find something a bit more appropriate.”

He glances over at me again, pensive at first, before he smiles somewhat naughtily at me, as though a thought had just occurred to him.

“You know what, Paige? One of these days we’re going to go and shop for clothes for you. I want you to have whatever you like.”

“Oh, Sebastian. It’s very sweet of you but I’d feel bad about it. You’re already being so kind about everything …”

“There’s no need to mention that, Paige. I want to, you know? There’s something about you that just makes me want to take care of you. And it’s not exactly as though I can’t afford it …”

“I know that isn’t an issue. It’s just that it’s so
Pretty Woman
, you know - I guess it’d make me feel like a mistress rather than a girlfriend.”

He squeezes my thigh and flashes a devilish smile at me.

“Oh, I don’t know, I can think of some kinky games we could play along those lines …”

“Oh my God, Sebastian, you are terrible,” I murmur in amused reproach. “You’ve figured out that you can get me to do just about anything if you tell me it’s a kinky game, haven’t you?”

He glances smilingly at me again, before he takes my hand and kisses it.

“Have I ever told you how much I love it that you’re kinky?”

When we get to the restaurant, he surprises me by pulling up in front of it, right at the door, and for a moment I think he’s going to drop me off first, until I realise that there’s a valet parking attendant standing outside, and before I know it, he’s opened the door for me, and Sebastian shows up on my side just in time to offer me his arm before handing over his car key to the valet with the air of a man who’s thoroughly accustomed to this sort of thing.

And then the restaurant itself! It looks incredibly plush, even from where we’re standing as we wait for the maître d’ to show us to our table - it’s all chandeliers and crisp linens and officious, impeccably-dressed waiters, a world away from anything I’ve ever experienced.

He’s certainly noticed my wonderment, in contrast to the ease with which he’s handling himself, because he smiles, kisses my hand, before leaning over and whispering in my ear: “Well, Paige, I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to being the girlfriend of a man who likes to pamper you a bit.”

As I smile back at him a bit nervously, he gestures to me to go ahead and follow the maître d’, which I do, though I keep reflexively turning back to look at him, as though to confirm that I’m not doing anything inappropriate.

He’s very reassuring, beaming at me every time our eyes meet, but it’s nevertheless a relief when we’re finally seated.

As it turns out, he’s reserved a booth in the corner with a curved banquette, and instead of sitting on the chair across from me, he sidles up beside me and slips one arm around my waist, as if half in greeting.

I can’t help but stare into his eyes - he looks so utterly gorgeous, and ever so
radiant
, that I feel like I just have to fix that in my memory - and we end up goofily smiling at each other until the waiter arrives with our menus.

But it’s not till after we’ve perused the menus and then placed our orders that I realise why Sebastian’s chosen this particular location to sit in - because that’s when he slides a hand onto my thigh and kisses me, just like that, in front of all and sundry, without a care for whomever might be watching.

It’s strangely liberating, after all the hiding we’ve had to do on campus, and while I’m initially a bit nervous about so blatant a display of affection in a place like this, it’s ultimately easier to just relax into his embrace and savor the fact that he doesn’t seem to give a damn if people realise that we’re together.

In fact, if anything, he seems to want to flaunt our relationship, because after our kiss he keeps me so close that when I speak to him I’m practically leaning my chin on his shoulder and murmuring into his ear.

It’s all like a dream, a beautiful dream that I never want to wake up from …

“Well, look who’s here!” a man’s voice exclaims in front of our table, a weirdly familiar voice that I can’t quite place.

We look up.

For a moment I’m puzzled - the guy, like his voice, seems oddly familiar, but I can’t quite place him either - it doesn’t seem to be anyone from school, certainly.

And then I realise that the reason I can’t place him is because I used to see him in a much more dimly-lit place, in a completely different environment - and because I always tried to avoid eye contact with him as far as was possible.

Because it’s the creep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

He’s got that expression on his face that I know all too well from the club - smarmy, and what’s worse, a veneer of over-friendliness masking some kind of inexplicable hostility.

“Hey man,” he says, addressing Sebastian, “haven’t seen you around in a while. I didn’t know you were on such close terms with our Tiffany here.”

I feel Sebastian’s arm tighten subtly around me, as though in a protective gesture.

“I wasn’t aware we had a joint custodial arrangement around the young lady, last I checked,” he says icily, his eyes hard in a way that I’ve never seen before.

“A joint custodial arrangement? Oh, you mean because I said ‘our Tiffany’. Ah, always with the wordplay, Mr. Famous Writer. I was just alluding to the fact that you seem to have taken her away from all of us at the club.”

“I didn’t need to ‘take her away’, Caleb, if that’s what you’re wondering, she was quite happy to come with me.”

“I’ll bet she was,” says Caleb, grinning at me impertinently.

I avert my gaze and look at Sebastian instead.

His face is still a mask, for the most part, but I can tell from the tension in his jaw that he’s not happy.

“Good evening, Caleb,” he says, with a dismissiveness that seems quite deliberate. “Your dinner partner must be waiting for you.”

“Oh, dad isn’t here yet,” says Caleb, with an airiness just as put-on. “But I shan’t keep bothering you two. Good to see you, Tiffany.”

I look at him but don’t respond, and he walks away with a wink despite my unresponsiveness.

As soon as he’s out of sight I bury my face in Sebastian’s shoulder.

“My poor darling girl,” he murmurs. “You look quite shaken. I’m so sorry we had to run into him here - I’ve never seen him in the neighborhood. But you don’t have to worry, I’m here. He hasn’t been bothering you in the meantime has he?”

“N-no,” I stammer. “I haven’t seen him since that night when you were at the club, but I ran into another girl from the club the other day and she said he’d been fishing for information about me. I don’t think it’s connected to him being here, because no one at the club really knows anything about me, unless he talked to the manager, who wouldn’t even give my friend my contact info when she was trying to get in touch with me when I stopped showing up at the club, so I think that’s okay for now. Who
is
he, though?”

Sebastian sighs.

“He’s the dean’s son.”

“What, you mean -”

“Yes, Dean Miller.”

“Wait, but he said his dad was going to be here - so Dean Miller will be here anytime?”

“Yes. And he’ll probably stop by our table to say hello as well if he sees me, just so you know.”

“It’s all right,” I say gently, “he won’t recognise me. And the creep doesn’t know who I am either, so it should be fine.”

He kisses me.

“I’m not worried about that, Paige. I’m more concerned about Caleb harassing you.”

“Is that - is that something he has a history of doing?”

He takes a breath before answering.

“No. At least I cannot say that I have any knowledge of anything like that. I barely know him. But he seems to have some issues - and also seems disproportionately preoccupied with you. And you looked stricken when he showed up, just as you did that night at the club, so I can’t imagine that your experience of him has been positive.”

“No it definitely hasn’t. There’s a reason we nicknamed him ‘the creep’ at the club … You know him through school, through Dean Miller?”

He laughs scornfully.

“No. No, I’ve never met him in that context. I don’t think that he and his dad are particularly close. He’s a bit of a ne’er-do-well, always involved in some dubious business or other. I’ve always had a vague suspicion that he was a bit of a disappointment to Roger. No, I only know him through Brandon, an old college friend - he was the guy whose bachelor party it was that night at the club. It wasn’t the first time I’d met him, but I always instinctively disliked him, and at the club I realised exactly why.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t ask - which is just as well, because Dean Miller has just walked up to us. He’s a bluff, hearty man, and while I can detect a certain family resemblance, now that I’ve been tipped off, he seems quite warm and genuinely pleased to see Sebastian - which couldn’t be more different from his son the creep.

“Hello, Sebastian. What a nice surprise. Out for dinner?” He nods at me and offers me his hand to shake. “Hi, I’m Roger.”

“Hi, I’m Paige, nice to meet you,” I stammer.

Fortunately, the waiter arrives with our appetizers, forestalling any potential conversation …

Dean Miller smiles. “Nice to meet you, Paige. I’ll be on my way now, see you around, Sebastian.”