by Lulu Pratt
Are you done? We need to be at the party in forty-five minutes.
Shit, I’m already running late and I haven’t even packed up the office. Petra always leaves earlier than me, and tonight is no exception. Now, I’ve got to rush to our place and change clothes to make it to the party with her, and unlike most nights, I’m looking forward to it.
I’m leaving now.
It’s only a small lie, I reason as I lock my desk to secure my files before grabbing my work bag and glancing around my office one last time before leaving. With my hand on the door knob, I exit with my head still facing my desk.
Turning to the lobby, I feel the breath and blood drain from my body as I come face to face with him.
The man from the party is leaning against the wall, his arms hidden behind his back as he squints his beautiful eyes while watching me.
“Ahh!” I shriek, completely taken aback by his presence. Stumbling back, I break into giggles, and he chuckles while making his way to me, helping me regain my balance.
“My clutch!” I exclaim, realizing he is holding the purse I lost the night I met him.
“You left it at my party, and I wanted to return it,” he shrugs.
“I did? I thought for sure I couldn’t have done that…” I trail off, not wanting him to know how much I’d wished there could be a reason for me to see him again.
“Yeah, well, here it is,” he says, handing me the purse.
Taking the clutch, I thank him and he nods as we look into each other’s eyes for a lot longer than necessary. What should be an awkward moment is almost too comfortable. I don’t want it to end, but I fear it becoming unbearable, so I turn away, instantly regretting the decision.
“So… I wanted you to have that back. And, um,” he begins, rubbing his neck as his words fade away.
I see a new emotion on his face. One I have yet to witness, and from the look in his eyes, I don’t think he’s too familiar with it either.
“Yes?” What’s wrong, I wonder, watching his face contort.
“Oh, no. Nothing’s wrong. I just…” he pauses, but this time he continues before I can interrupt again. “I want to take you to dinner. Are you free tonight?”
“Oh!” I blanche, a bit taken back. I hadn’t expected him to be interested in me. It kind of messes up my fantasy, but that doesn’t stop my knees from weakening as I watch him waiting my response.
“So… are you free?” He repeats his question as he stands taller, looking directly into my eyes.
“I’m not… but I would like that. How about I call you and we set something up?” I suggest, and for a second he looks confused, but then he smiles and nods, accepting my offer.
“Let me walk you out,” he motions to the door, and I follow his lead.
Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I lock the front door to the office before turning back to face him. He’s so handsome, my wit withers whenever he’s looking at me. It’s like I melt a little inside, until I’m nothing but a creamy mess, just trying not to spill over as he watches my every move.
Walking out of the building, I feel him watching me, and I’m so in tune to him I can’t help but glance over every few steps. There’s a soft laugh shared between us every time we catch each other staring, but neither of us dares to address it.
“This is me,” I say staring up at his tall frame once we make it to my red Mini Cooper.
“Oh, really?” He looks at my car with a grin. “I guess I’ll have to pick you up for dinner,” he raises his eyebrows swiftly before turning to leave.
“Wait. I don’t know your name,” I call after him.
He stops in his tracks before slowly turning to me, his eyebrows scrunched together as his head tilts. “Are you serious?”
“Did you already tell me? I sometimes forget, sorry,” I cringe, a bit embarrassed. I thought for sure we hadn’t exchanged names, but he’s had my driver’s license, so he has a head start.
“No. No, I didn’t tell you my name. My name is Logan,” he flashes his million-dollar smile, walking to me with his hand extended.
Taking his hand, I laugh at the formality as he leans in and brushes my cheek with his soft lips. My pelvic muscles tense deliciously as I return the gesture before watching him walk away.
The drive home is quicker than normal, since my head is all twisted with ideas about my mystery man who finally has a name. I wonder how he found out where I work, but knowing he’s rich and probably connected, I imagine it couldn’t have been too hard.
Petra is eager to leave for the party once I walk in the door, so I rush through picking an outfit, opting for a black jumper dress, with black open-toe stilettos.
With a grin, I grab my newly returned clutch, knowing it was in Logan’s possession all this time. Who knows how much he found out about me, but him doing his research is sexy.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I announce, strolling into the living room, where Petra sits watching a crime drama.
“Really?” She turns to look at me, shock written across her face.
“Yep. I’m ready to party.”
“Okay, Batcher, don’t get crazy,” she jokingly warns, grabbing her purse and keys from the coffee table before following me out the front door.
The party is crazy, but in a good way. Girls hang from ropes attached to the ceiling, dancing in lingerie, and men are clustered in groups at tables, eyeing the dance floor like predators. Petra and I are seated at a VIP table with a perfect view of the club, relaxing over a few drinks.
“Do you want anything?” A guy yells across the table at me and I shake my head with a smile, politely declining his offer.
He’s what I would normally describe as handsome, but not anymore. Now, there is an entirely new grading scale, thanks to Logan. His blue eyes are permanently ingrained in my memory, and everything seems to remind me of him as I wonder when I’ll see him next.
Then it hits me. I won’t even know how to call him to schedule our dinner, because I don’t have a way of getting in contact with him. I barely got his name, as words seemed to escape me more and more while I drowned in his charisma.
“I’ll be back,” I whisper to Petra, but she’s so lost in her conversation with another of her old cronies she barely notices me.
I need some time to myself, and this club probably isn’t the best place to achieve that, but it will have to do.
How could I fumble that bad? I jumped out there, committing to set up our first date, and I don’t even know enough about the man to perform a simple Google search. On the other hand, he knows so much about me, he perfectly timed his impromptu visit to show up just after my last session of the day.
Maybe he will reach out when he doesn’t hear from me. It’s the best I can hope for after realizing just how much I blew it. He’s so sexy and completely captivating, and now I might not see him again because I wasn’t smart enough to get his phone number or email.
Feeling like a complete idiot, I head to the bar to sulk, settling on a stool while motioning to the blond bartender who almost immediately walks in my direction.
“What can I get you?” He smiles a little too hard, his biceps threatening to rip the sleeves of his T-shirt as he crosses his arms.
“I’ll take a cosmo.” I shout above the music, and he nods before turning to gather ingredients.
I realize I didn’t re-pack my newly returned purse as I unzip it in preparation to cover my bill.
My eyes widen as I grab the cash he’s inserted into the clutch — ten crisp one-hundred-dollar bills, with a pristine white business card with the words Logan Draper imprinted in gold ink. Beneath his name, there is his number and an email address.
Replaying our earlier interaction in my mind, I try to recall his demeanor, wondering just what he could possibly see happening between us, especially with this type of move. What type of girl would be happy to have a thousand dollars slipped in her purse by a stranger?
A gold digger, that’s who, and I bet he’s used to that type,
but that’s not me. There’s no way I’m accepting this money, or this type of behavior from him, and I’ll be sure to make that clear over dinner.
“Here you are,” the bartender hands me a pink drink and I smile, handing him a twenty-dollar bill that actually belongs to me.
“It’s on the house,” he yells before turning to help someone else.
What’s up with everyone showering me with gifts today? Although, a free drink at a bar is understandable, a stack of cash in a returned purse is not. What type of response did he expect to receive?
No wonder he didn’t bother exchanging information.
Chapter 5
Logan
“I’ve finalized preparations for your upcoming trip. I think you’ll have a good time, Istanbul is one of my favorite cities,” Jenn says while checking off things on her clipboard.
She’s so focused she’s yet to look up during our meeting, which is basically her updating me on my life. I have to go to Europe.
Traveling is one of my favorite things to do, but not as much when work is involved. My parents never really thought I’d do anything with my trust fund, but through a few smart investments, I’ve more than tripled my wealth in just over a decade.
Business is now more for sport than anything else, and it’s grown to be a bit mundane. Jenn tries to find a way of spicing it up by packing business meetings and luncheons along my travels, but all it really does is ruin a perfectly good opportunity for a vacation.
“Have you ever considered bringing along one of your, uhh…” Jenn trails off as she blushes.
“One of my what?” I pretend to be confused.
“You know what I mean, Logan. A little company could make your trip more… pleasurable,” she says, her face reddening even further.
“Just what I need — another woman thinking I could be her prince charming.”
“Mr. Draper, I honestly don’t think you need to worry about women confusing you with Prince Charming,” she says with a smile, but I know she’s right.
From the way I run through women, and the reputation I’ve earned, it seems they all know what they’re walking into. The way I see it, that’s a good thing. At least there are no surprises. That also means that women feel the need to take advantage of my availability — trying to leech on and take as much as they can since they know I won’t be around long.
“I guess you’re right,” I say with a smirk.
I see Jenn reach for the cordless phone she uses to answer calls remotely, before switching her voice to the more professional tone she uses with clients.
“Good afternoon. You’ve reached Mr. Draper’s desk. This is Jennifer speaking, how may I help you?” she says.
My mind wanders to the idea of taking a woman along on my business trip. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d traveled with a date, but I can’t see myself enjoying company after those long meetings. Typically, I just need a little time to myself to make up for the boring exchanges.
“Mr. Draper. I have an Ava Batcher on the line for you,” Jenn says in her formal tone, and dare I say, I get nervous.
I wave my hand, signaling Jenn to leave me alone in my office. I force a deep breath before picking up the phone and pressing the blinking button, indicating the occupied line.
“Ms. Batcher,” I answer with the arrogance I’m known for.
“Oh, hi,” she says quietly. “I was calling to see if you were available.”
“Available for what?” I ask with a smirk.
“Well,” her voice changes and she begins to speak with confidence, “I did tell you I would call to set up our dinner, so I wanted to see what evening worked for you,” she says smoothly, her voice is soft but stern at the same time.
“Are you free tonight?” The words rush out of my mouth before I can check my thirst to see her again. There’s something about her that’s clouded my thoughts since I saw her. I haven’t decided whether I can believe that she could possibly not know who I am, but the thought is rather alluring. I can’t remember the last time I slept with a woman without her requesting I follow her on social media afterwards. But I’m famous, and rich, so women seemed to learn all about me during their first semester of undergrad at UCLA.
“Well, yeah, I guess I can do tonight,” she answers after a brief pause.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at eight,” I say.
“Oh? You don’t want to ride in my Mini Cooper?” she teases.
The corners of my mouth bend upwards.
“I told you I’m not riding in that. I’ll see you tonight, Ava,” I say as I start to move to hang up the phone.
“Wait!” She says, halting my movements.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Don’t you need my address?”
“I had your license, Ava. I know where you live. See you soon.” I chuckle just before I end the call.
Excitement is an understatement for how I feel about our dinner, which makes it difficult to focus in the rest of my meetings throughout the day. I’m sure my team thinks I’m laser-focused, since I don’t make any of my typical jokes, but instead I’m thinking about Ava and which car I’ll drive to pick her up.
After an exhausting day that seemed to drag on, I rush home to prepare for my evening out. My personal shopper has left me a black Tom Ford suit, with a crisp white button-down shirt to wear underneath.
Upon dressing, I decide to go without a tie, hoping to look more casual than I do at the office. Ava seems to have a laid back kind of style, and she seems intimidated by me. While I enjoy her bashfulness, I want her to relax on our date.
My red LaFerrari Coupe seemed like the best fit for a first date, so I had the valet bring it up from the garage. Driving to West Hollywood to pick her up is a bit nerve wrecking. Of course, I’d been out with plenty of women before, but it was something different about Ava and the way everything had come about.
I am chasing her, and it’s the first time I’ve experienced that since junior high. Women throw themselves at me, and I only catch the ones who interest me, letting the others fall aside without a second thought.
This is much different than that, and I am still trying to erase the fog in my mind to truly understand what was happening. I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want Ava. I crave her, and have since my party.
While I tried to busy myself with other women, I’ve avoided taking any of them home, which was a drastic change in my normal routine. There weren’t many nights I spent alone, but from the night I’d met Ava, no one seemed capable of holding my attention long enough to put her far from the front of my mind.
Ava’s neighborhood is quiet. She lives on a one-way narrow street, lined with palm trees. As my GPS announces I’ve arrived at my destination, an older woman walks past with a perfectly groomed brown poodle.
Stepping out of the LaFerrari, my attention is so focused on the dog I don’t even notice Ava until she’s heading down the front steps.
My pace quickens as a grin spreads across my face. My God, she is beautiful. Wearing a simple black dress that hugs her slim body at all the right places, she runs her fingers through her long brown hair when she notices me staring.
“I would’ve come to your door,” I greet her with a hug, quickly kissing her cheek as I inhale her sweet aroma — a blend of rose and lavender.
“Oh, I didn’t want you to have to do all of that,” she says with a blush, taking a step back and looking me up and down. “You look very nice,” she compliments me and I feel like a complete asshole.
“You look amazing,” I say. “I’m sorry. That should have been the first thing I said, it’s definitely the first thing I thought.”
“It’s okay. Thank you anyway. So where are we eating?” She asks, biting her bottom lip in a way that awakens my manhood.
“Come on,” I ignore her question, leading her with my hand on the small of her back as I lift the passenger door for her.
“Oh wow. This is a sexy car,” she says as she sits down, and I’
m forced to ignore her again. She turns me on without even trying. It drives me seriously crazy, but in the best way possible.
“So where are we going?” She asks, looking over to me with those big hazel eyes as I pull down her street.
“Somewhere nice,” I smirk, peeking away from the road to catch a glimpse of her smile.
I have to sit up straight and take three deep breaths while focusing on mundane things around me to ease my erection before we arrive at Chateau Rouge, my favorite restaurant in the city.
“Oh, I love this place,” Ava taps her fingertips together as I pull into the valet.
This is usually a place I bring girls to impress them. I wasn’t anticipating her already experiencing it, but now it makes me think she must deal with men in my circle, because this restaurant is top of the line.
“So you’ve been here?” I remark as we follow the hostess to our table. Ava takes her time answering, remaining silent until I’ve pushed in her seat and settled into my own.
“Only once, for the opening. But my roommate knows one of the line cooks, so he always brings her meals. I think they went to high school together,” she scrunches her narrow nose, trying to recall the memory and I feel myself relax, knowing she’s not used to this type of dining.
“Well, I think this will be a little different. Do you mind if I order?” I propose, and she holds up her hands as if to say it’s fine with her.
“We should get some wine. Do you drink?” she asks, looking over the drinks menu.
She must not know me. Drinking is one of my favorite pastimes, but I’d planned on having a sober evening so I could be on my best behavior. She must know I’m loaded, because I’m sure she wouldn’t just go about ordering wine at a restaurant this nice if she was on her own.
“Hello, Mr. Draper, and good evening, Miss…” the waiter looks at Ava.
“You can just call me Ava,” she smiles at him, and I watch as his shoulders relax. She’s able to make people comfortable, a skill I’ve yet to master. Not that it keeps me up at night.
“Well, good evening, Ava,” he greets her with a slight bow.