Spoiled

by Gianni Holmes

  “I’m not against your relationship. I’m just telling you to slow down. You know your habit of getting way too invested in these boys, and I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

  At the concern in his voice, my annoyance disappeared. I patted him on the cheek, grateful to have a friend who cared enough to be worried about my heart.

  “Thanks, Phil, but I’ve got this, okay? Everything is going great between Ash and me.”

  “It’s still early.”

  “I know, so you should understand how important this dinner with him is. Now, see you later.”

  “Have fun,” he called after my back, and I gave him a thumbs-up while I ducked out of the back entrance. I hauled the trash bag to the dumpster and threw it in, then hurried up the steps to my apartment.

  I didn’t particularly like where we were going for dinner. They wouldn’t have much I could afford without hurting my pocket. I should’ve asked Ashton to change the venue, but I swallowed the selfish pride that wanted things my way.

  So far, he’d been agreeable to everything we faced as a couple. If we went out to eat, he didn’t complain about my choice of restaurants. I could at least give him this night for us to go somewhere he liked.

  If I could find something to wear. I searched through my closet, checking out the meager belongings in case I’d overlooked something before. When I’d moved from New York, I’d given away all my clothes. My wardrobe now consisted of jeans and T-shirts and a couple of short-sleeve button-downs. Nothing appropriate for dinner at the kind of place Ashton wanted to go.

  “Shit.”

  I wasn’t prepared for this at all. Now I wished I hadn’t given away everything. I’d owned suits that cost thousands of dollars. The situation was so comical I almost laughed. But not quite. I didn’t want to embarrass Ashton by showing up less than presentable, but I also refused to splurge on a suit I probably wouldn’t wear again.

  One glance at my watch made my mind up for me. It was too late to go to a store and pick something up now, but maybe I could stop on the way and get a blazer that would make me at least look more presentable.

  I took the time to shave and trim my hair myself. The first time I’d attempted it, it turned out to be a disaster, but now I could get my own hair done with very little effort. I pulled on my newest pair of black jeans. They weren’t too obvious, especially when paired with my dress shirt. I left the two top buttons undone, since I wasn’t wearing a tie.

  I no longer owned one.

  It was the best I could do at such short notice, and since the most important thing was being in Ashton’s company, I shoved my attire from my mind and got out of the apartment.

  I rang him to let him know I was on the way to the restaurant, but his phone went straight to voicemail. That was strange. Ashton was a social media junkie and never too far from his phone.

  “Ashton, I’m on my way to the restaurant,” I said after the recording started. “I have to warn you that I’m not exactly dressed for a fancy dinner, but if you don’t mind, that’s fine with me. Catch you in ten.”

  If I didn’t already know the location of the restaurant was in the upscale part of Battersea, I would’ve been stunned when I walked into one of the men’s stores to pick out a blazer. As soon as I set foot into the store, I knew I’d made a grave mistake. I should’ve bought the blazer at the mall downtown.

  “Shit,” I muttered when I found a dark blue blazer that went well with my outfit but then caught sight of the price tag. Was I really going to pay so much money for a damn blazer? Hadn’t I stopped shelling out big bucks on nonessential items?

  But this blazer is essential to your date with Ashton. It really wasn’t. Knowing Ashton, he possibly wouldn’t even care. Didn’t he spend hours staying in my apartment rather than his mansion?

  Maybe if he’d cared, I wouldn’t have bought the blazer, but knowing he wouldn’t helped me make up my mind. At the cashier desk, I handed over my credit card and tried not to think about half of my monthly salary disappearing just like that.

  “Thanks for shopping at Gentlemen’s Vice.” With a smile, the cashier handed me back my credit card and an expensive-looking shopping bag with the store’s logo on the outside. I could’ve told her not to bother, but I smiled, took my purchase, and returned to the car.

  The wrinkles in the blazer weren’t too obvious, and I felt marginally better about meeting Ashton at his family’s restaurant. It was only a five-minute drive from the store to the restaurant, but it took forever to find parking.

  I was still not used to Battersea, especially this side of town. I had no reason to be in the wealthier district.

  Eventually, I had to give up and park at the restaurant. At least, I tried to self-park, but the valet informed me that the option wasn’t available. I barely bit back my retort as I got out of the vehicle and handed him my car keys reluctantly. I didn’t even want to think about the costs of the valet service.

  I straightened my blazer, smoothing a few wrinkles I found, but the gesture was hopeless. I hated this. I was comfortable with my life. Everything was going so well, and I had peace of mind in an environment I loved. I wouldn’t let one date with Ashton in a place that reminded me of my former lifestyle make me doubt myself.

  My confidence bolstered, I strode toward the entrance of the restaurant. To say I was bowled over from the moment I entered the restaurant was an understatement. I knew Ashton’s family was wealthy. Phil had warned me about that fact, but the restaurant was top-of-the-line.

  The décor of the foyer was simply breathtaking. From the door, it took a good ten to fifteen feet to reach the other end where the maître d’ glanced up with a welcoming smile. A rich dark carpet ushered guests inside, the lights of the chandelier casting a green glow over the carpet. Beautifully designed electric lights lined the walls on either side.

  If this was just the foyer, what was the dining area like?

  “Welcome to Keyes Cuisine,” the lady greeted me. Her smile was firmly in place, but the way she assessed me from head to toe told her thoughts as loudly as if she’d spoken them. “I’m Rozanne. May I have the name on your reservation, please?”

  “That would be Ashton Keyes,” I told her.

  She glanced up from the iPad in her hand, my answer seemingly throwing her off. “Excuse me?”

  “Ashton Keyes,” I repeated, now wishing I’d made another attempt to reach Ashton or wait for him in the car until he got here so we could go in together. Since I was ten minutes late, though, I’d hoped he was already here.

  “As in Ashton Keyes who owns this restaurant?”

  Ashton owned the restaurant? I shouldn’t be shocked. He was a trust fund baby. I already knew how this worked, but I couldn’t reconcile the carefree nature of Ashton and owning this restaurant in the same thought. My Ashton, who needed a boost just to finish his assignments for his classes.

  “Yes, the one and the same.”

  “Uh, Mr. Keyes doesn’t have a reservation for tonight.” She frowned.

  It figured that Ashton would think, since he was the boss, he didn’t need to call in a reservation. I was going to tan his ass for putting me in this awkward position.

  “I’ll just wait for him outside, then, and find out where he is,” I replied.

  She gave me an empathic smile. “Umm, we have a few tables that are not filled for the night. I’m certain Mr. Keyes would not be appreciative of us keeping you waiting on the outside.”

  I nodded at her. “That would be great. Thank you.”

  “May I just have your name for reference, please?”

  She took down my name, then stepped out from behind the glass desk and bade me to follow her. An elegantly dressed man smoothly took her place behind the desk to resume duties.

  “Mr. Keyes always sits in the private dining area when he has company.”

  I vaguely registered her words but couldn’t respond to her as we entered the main restaurant. My attention was immediately caught by the buzzing of peop
le chatting and live jazz music. Stylish-looking panels divided the wide space to give each section a kind of privacy. The seating arrangements ranged from groups to intimate two-seat setups.

  “To your left is the wine-tasting bar,” she explained. “There’s also a cocktail bar and a secret den. Just up the stairs, we have private dining.”

  “This is spectacular,” I remarked, and even though I was used to fine dining, I was still awed. The view south as we climbed the stairs was simply breathtaking.

  We turned left, and she easily slid a panel aside, and we entered a dining area, divided into room-like features, that was closed off from the other diners. The mumble of other diners close by filtered through, but I couldn’t see them.

  “You may be seated.” She indicated one of the private booths, and I slipped in.

  A faux fireplace set off a warm atmosphere, and above it was a display panel with bottles of alcohol. I took in the rest of the dining space and stumbled to a halt at the huge picture on the wall. Of Ashton and two other men.

  They looked similar enough for me to immediately place them as his father and brother who had died. Ashton stood between both men, his arms around their shoulders, a grin lighting up his features.

  Whereas the two men beside him seemed conservative in their demeanor, Ashton’s presence radiated off that photograph. The purse of his lips and the way his eyes gleamed showed a confident and happy guy.

  “That’s the Keyes men.” Rozanne noticed my attention. “Of course, I’m sure you already are aware. The accident was really tragic.”

  I glanced up at her. Could I ask her some questions? No, that would be too bold. Instead, I gave her a nod. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “It was my pleasure. A waiter will be with you shortly. Do have a pleasant evening at Keyes Cuisine.”

  She strolled from the dining space, and my gaze promptly returned to the picture of the three men. I wasn’t sure what to make of Ashton’s family situation. I knew he and his mother didn’t get along. From his posture in the photograph, though, he seemed at ease with his sibling and his father.

  How had the accident affected him? My mother’s death had driven me to the single most horrible decision in my life. I was still struggling to recover from it.

  A waiter appeared and asked me what I’d like to drink until Mr. Keyes arrived. The wine selection was quite extensive, and that was just the wine.

  “Keyes Cuisine is known for both its cuisine and quality beverages, sir,” he explained to me. “Perhaps you’d like Mr. Keyes’s favorite drink?”

  I wasn’t much of a drinker these days, but I nodded. “Sure, that will do.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  When he was gone, I grabbed my phone and rang Ashton again. Still voicemail. Three calls unanswered, and I was starting to get a little bit pissed off. I hoped like hell he hadn’t forgotten about our date. It would be quite awkward to have to walk out without ordering anything from what was sure to be an expensive menu.

  “Here you go, sir.” The waiter stood at the table with a bottle of wine I recognized. The stuff was expensive, and while I’d tasted its decadence before, I certainly never bought a whole damn bottle. Not even while I worked on Wall Street.

  “Thank you.” He poured me a glass and placed the bottle into an ice cooler he’d pulled out of the wall.

  “You’re welcome, sir. I’ll check in with you in a few minutes.”

  I took my time with the wine, savoring the rich flavor that exploded on my tongue. A ten-thousand-dollar bottle of wine deserved to be languished over. I frowned in my glass, though, thinking of Ashton and whether or not he came here often. It must’ve been often enough to have a favorite bottle of wine.

  He did own the restaurant, but did he come here alone? Of course, that was absurd. Ashton was a sensual boy who enjoyed being with someone. He wouldn’t come to this place alone when he could’ve any man he wanted.

  I didn’t like the idea of Ashton here drinking, but maybe having a glass—certainly not the whole damn bottle—might be okay. I hadn’t seen him imbibing since we got together, and that said a lot, since the entire month before we’d become involved, he’d pop into the café drunk at least once a week.

  I glanced at my watch and frowned. It was already half an hour past the time we’d agreed to meet. Where could he be?

  I reached for my phone to call him again when a shadow fell into the private dining area. The strong scent of a familiar expensive cologne and booze filled my nostrils.

  “Daddy! I’m so sorry I’m—” He hiccuped and giggled as he slipped farther into the room. ”—late.”

  In horror, I stared at Ashton. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not after everything I’d tried to put in place to prevent this very thing. Yet Ashton walked right over to me and planted a kiss on my lips. If I’d dared hope someone had just spilled their drink on him, the bitter taste of his mouth immediately put a stop to my illusion.

  I placed my hands on his shoulder and pushed him gently back.

  “Ash, you’re drunk.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ashton

  “Master Ashton, are you sure you don’t want me to call your gentleman and cancel your dinner engagement?”

  When Rue had asked me that question earlier, his face full of concern, I’d waved his concern aside. So I’d had a few drinks. Daddy Callum wouldn’t want me any less. He loved me. I was pretty sure of it.

  To be honest, I hadn’t intended to show up for our dinner date. Not after the shitshow my mother’s party had turned into. Her announcement had fucked with my head way more than I’d been able to handle.

  At my crappiest moment, staring into another empty glass, I’d made the decision that I needed my Daddy to feel good. The alcohol alone didn’t seem to be working. I needed something more.

  Seeing Daddy Callum seated in my private dining booth at the restaurant filled me with relief and trepidation. There was a reason for the picture on the wall. When my workaholic father and brother got the chance, we’d all eat right here. Almost every night after their deaths, I’d come here and drink myself into a stupor, just staring at their picture, willing them to come back to life.

  I hadn’t invited Callum here to show off my assets. I wanted to share this part of my life with him. He could never take the place of my father and brother, but he was somebody else who loved me when I didn’t deserve to be loved. Maybe someday, I’d even hang a picture of him on the wall for him so he’d know how serious I was about him.

  Daddy Callum wasn’t really dressed for a fine-dining establishment. If he’d been with anyone else, he wouldn’t have been allowed to enter, but I didn’t give a damn about any of that. Just seeing him was enough for me.

  I had to kiss him. I felt like I was going to die if I wasn’t in his arms, and for just a fraction of a second, he responded. Then his body went stiff. His mouth tasted of my favorite wine, and for a moment, I was confused whether I was kissing him because I wanted him or I was chasing the lingering flavor on his tongue.

  When Daddy Callum grabbed my arms and eased me out of his arms, I stared at him in confusion. What was wrong? Didn’t he want me anymore? Why was he pushing me away?

  “Ash, you’re drunk.”

  The accusatory tone hit me hard. My eyes widened as I took in the tightness of his lips, the furrowing of his brows, and the stubborn set of his jaw.

  This wasn’t play. He wasn’t just pretending to be mad so we could have fun with him spanking me.

  His direct gaze was condemning.

  Accusatory.

  Judgmental.

  “I’ve had a few drinks,” I mumbled, refraining from mentioning how I’d crashed into a table downstairs and that one of the waiters had to guide me up the stairs.

  “How many?”

  I shrugged off his hands and took a step back. Away from those accusatory eyes. “A few.” I stepped toward the cooler, popped it open, and removed the bottle.

  “I think y
ou’ve had enough to drink.”

  I shook my head at him and snatched the other glass from the table. “I have to drink to my dad and brother. Don’t be a meanie.”

  “Ashton.”

  Ignoring him, I filled the glass to the brim and took a big gulp. It burned going down, but the familiar taste on my tongue was bliss. I could get to that feel-good place with just a few more glasses.

  “Lighten up, Daddy.” I stumbled to the couch where he sat and straddled him with the bottle in one hand and the glass in another.

  “Ashton, I said that’s enough.”

  “Oh god, not nearly enough.” I gulped from the glass again and moaned. “Wanna know something? Alcohol makes me so horny.” To prove my point, I gyrated onto his lap.

  “Give me the bottle and the glass.”

  I pouted at him. “I don’t want to.”

  “You told me you had this under control.” He was using his Daddy voice on me: stern and disciplinarian.

  It turned me on so much more than I already was.

  “You’re the hottest Daddy. Can I suck you off?”

  I shimmied off his lap, but he grabbed the bottle from me. I evaded his hand reaching for the glass, though, and scrambled off his lap before he could confiscate it.

  “Hand it over, now. Boy, don’t make me come get it.”

  “But you have a drink.” I pointed at his own glass. “Why don’t I get to do the same?”

  “Because this is just one glass, and you’ve clearly had one too many again.”

  I downed the drink, then handed him the glass. “More, please.”

  His hand circled my wrist, and he yanked me toward him. I liked the rough treatment and went willingly. I was about to tease him again, but then our eyes met. I hated the look of disappointment and…was that disgust on his face?

  “I think you’ve been lying to me, Ashton. How long has this been going on?”

  “Uh.” I licked my lips. “Are you going to punish me now?”