Leighton

“Funny story actually. My friend said that she spoke with you and that you gave this card to her. I don’t believe her.” She started to giggle, and I sat up straight.

“What makes you think that?” I asked her, and she shrugged.

“She’s been trying to set me up with a man for three years now.”

“And you didn’t want to.” She shook her head, and I nodded in understanding.

“You look beautiful tonight,” I told her, because it was true. She could definitely pull off a black dress very well.

“Thank you.” She pushed her hair out of her face nervously, and I knew she wasn’t used to men being in her presence.

“First, I want you to know that I don’t share. If you become my girl, then I don’t want you to date other men or women.” I told her my number one rule or hard limit, however you wanted to see it. I disliked it.

“That is perfectly fine with me,” she answered, and I took a sip of my drink.

“How many relationships have you had previously?” I asked, and she shuffled on her chair, looking uncomfortable.

“One. That relationship was a normal one and lasted four years.” I smirked at her, and her body relaxed as if she was relieved.

Leaning back and extending my legs out, I stretched my aching back. That chair was hard, and I knew I should have picked a booth. It was a wooden chair, and I regretted choosing that spot altogether.

Pulling out a voice recorder, I laid it down on the table, and Angel watched closely. “State your name please,” I told her, and she nodded, understanding why I did it.

“Angel Rider.” I had told the recorder my name prior to my arrival, so that wasn’t needed.

“Monthly allowance or expenses?” I dove straight in with the main question, and she tilted her head to the side, not understanding what I was asking her.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand,” she stated, and I was glad she was able to speak up when she didn’t know what to say.

“Monthly allowance is a certain amount of money paid at the end of each month. You can spend it on whatever you want, and it would feel more like a job. You can pay your rent, do what I would do if it was in the form of expenses.

“Expenses is me treating you. Clothes, holidays, shopping trips, food, and a room to sleep in.”

“Would I stay at your house?” she asked me, and I shook my head.

“No. I would get you a penthouse, and the rent and all bills would be paid for.”

She focused her eyes on the carpet to her right, taking a small gulp of her champagne and instantly snapped her gaze up to me, rubbing her arms.

“I would be more interested in the expenses option. I live in an apartment and wouldn’t want to pay rent for it.”

“Expenses it is.” I smirked, and she blushed.

“I took a close look at your application. You didn’t comment if you were interested in intercourse. Would that be a problem for you as this is all a part of my agreement terms?”

“I would be interested,” she told me straightaway, before looking away again. That was where I figured out she was a prude when it came to sexual activity.

“Do you get uncomfortable when talking about sexual activity, Angel?” I asked her, and she nodded. I needed to be honest with her and help her to understand what I was interested in.

“I talk openly about intercourse. Would that be a problem for you?” I raised my eyebrows, and she shook her head.

“No. I will get used to it.” Nodding, I picked up the menu and turned it around for her to look at it.

“Pick anything off the menu. My treat.”

“No, I can pay for it,” she snapped at me, and I couldn’t figure out why she acted that way.

“I want to pay. Plus, you need to get used to it if I’m going to be your daddy, don’t you think?” She nodded, and I could tell she was struggling with the idea of giving in and allowing me to give her what she wanted.

She wanted to be my girl, but she’d always worked hard for what she wanted. Being independent was hard to give up in my opinion, but she needed to let it go and allow me to look after her needs.

I was a man who wanted to help her, not that I was happy about my life.

99 percent of the time I was comfortable with my life, but that one small percentage always made me question myself, future plans, and motivations. I have a very supportive family, and they would do anything to help me.

I could count on the friends I’ve gained over the years, but I would then ask myself how much I actually knew about them.

Was it true that they would throw themselves in front of a bullet for me? Maybe not, but I had hope that they would. I knew I would find out in the future.

“Any family?” I asked her, and she pushed her hair back. It was obvious she didn’t and felt discomfort talking about it.

I didn’t ask her that question to make her feel uncomfortable, but to figure out if she had a family to confide in.

Would she need to go to her parents’ house to have dinner on a Wednesday evening or have a family party to attend once every four months?

I couldn’t gather all the information I needed from six pieces of paper. It would be impossible. Plus, I wanted to get to know her for who she was and not by a white page with black ink. It can give you false expectations.

“No. I’m sorry. I don’t like to talk about it.”

Understandable, I thought to myself as the waitress approached our table.

“Ciao, cosa posso portarti? Hi, what can I get you?” she asked, and I glanced over the table at Angel.

Ladies first. I was brought up with manners, and when me and my parents would go out to eat, my mom would always order what she wanted first. Then it would go up in age, so it would be me and then my dad.

It was like that from what I could remember in my past, and I always did follow it. My dad was a gentleman and taught me all that I know about treating a lady correctly.

Angel stared at the menu not saying a word, and I inhaled deeply before touching a dish on the list.

“Would you like this?” I asked her, and she shook her head.

“You choose,” I told her, and she pointed at an item on the menu. Sitting up, I looked at the item and nodded.

“Possiamo avere un’insalata? Can we get a salad? Wait there. No. Pick something that will actually fill you, Angel.” A small smile appeared on her lips when she knew I had caught her. Sneaky.

“Can I have that please?” she asked me, and I laughed.

“Possiamo avere arancini per cominciare e pasta alla norma per la signora? Per me posso avere busiate al pesto Trapanese? Finisci con due torte setteveli. ~Can we get arancini to start with and pasta alla norma for the lady? For me, can I get busiate al pesto Trapanese? Finish those off with two torta settevelis.~”