by Dauphin, M.
“What’s it mean when a girl sends a guy a winky face in a text message?” I ask, and add, “For a friend. He’s curious.”
“What?”
“When a girl texts a new guy friend and it has winky face in it. What’s that mean?”
“What was the message in the text?”
“It just said ‘hey you’.”
“She’s flirting.”
“For real?”
“Of course. The message has no happy message in it, or anything else that would make her have to send it, so obviously she’s trying to convey other feelings by it. She must like your friend.” She stresses the word friend and smiles.
“Oh,” is all I’m able to say. She’s flirting with me. I like this, and can work with this.
“So, what would you like me to tell your client?”
“Just take a number. I’ll call them back.”
She smiles and nods, then retreats to her desk, leaving my door wide open. Typically, I like leaving it open, but I would rather people didn’t walk by and see the stupid smile on my face today. However, closing it will give the office a sense that I’m in a bad mood, and things start happening when people think I’m in a bad mood. They all get weird, and clingy, and way too nice, and some even a little scared. I’d rather not put everyone on edge, so I guess I’ll just have to hold in my excitement that Annaliese Ryder is text flirting with me. I type out another message and click send before I’m able to think things through.
Me: Dinner tonight?
She sends one back before I’m able to set my phone down on my desk.
Annaliese: Thought you’d never ask. Pick me up at 7. What should I wear?
I really want to tell her nothing and that I’ll be feasting on her body all night, but I told her this would be a real date. I haven’t been on a real date in a while, but I do know they don’t involve naked bodies exploring each other the entire time. More like half the time. Shit. My dick's getting hard just thinking about her. Annaliese in bed. Her in those damn heels. Damn. She needs to wear those 'fuck me' heels again tonight. It’s been a week since I’ve fucked anyone, simply because thinking about Annaliese makes my dick limp for any other woman that isn’t her. I’ll take her to an Italian restaurant downtown. It’s a small place, but the owner and I go way back.
Me: Casual. Italian okay?
Annaliese: Perfect. See you tonight ;)
She did it again!
Me: ;)
Annaliese: Did u just winky face me?
Me: Yes. Problem?
It takes a moment for the next to come through and now I’m worried that I shouldn’t have done it. When I met my ex-wife, we didn’t so stuff like this. The playful texts, the teasing. None of this happened, so this is all new to me, but I really enjoy it. Finally my phone dings.
Annaliese: None at all. Just wanted to know what I was getting into tonight. See you later…. Mr. Chicago.
This woman will be the end of my streak as a playboy bachelor. If I didn’t know it before, I know it right now. I will make her see the real me, and she will love me.
The rest of the day I spend locked in my office, never actually meeting with Benton. I texted him telling him I’m not going to the fight tonight. Usually, I’d still go even if I weren’t betting just to watch the competition, but I have more pressing things to do tonight. I sort through papers, eat a light lunch, but honestly don’t get much else done other than thinking about Annaliese. I considered rubbing one out at my desk to my mental image of her, but I don’t trust my brain. Without her here, I’m not sure it’d be that good anyway. Hell, even if I called in one of the interns, I’m not sure I’d even be able to get off. Tonight I’ll get a picture of Annaliese. Tonight I’ll make sure she knows how I feel about her. Then there won’t have to be mental images because I’ll be able to have her every day.
Hopefully tonight isn’t as catastrophic as the back of my mind keeps warning me. Adam Callahan dating a down to earth beauty, who happens to be the daughter of Vick Ryder. Shit. I didn’t think about publicity. We’ll need a back entrance to the restaurant in a private booth, and no walks on the street. Don’t let any eyes hit us together or I can kiss my chances with her goodbye.
By the time five p.m. rolls around I’m ready to go. Practically running out of the office, I lock up and head home to get changed into something a little more casual. Not too casual, but the man should never out dress the lady, right? My nerves are a wreck and I’m more worried now that someone is going to see us and realize who she is. If word gets back to Vick, I’m a dead man.
Driving over to her place, I catch her neighborhood in a completely different light than I did last week. There’s a homeless man who looks to have set up camp on the corner a block down from her, and a couple cars on her block sitting on cinderblocks, tires completely removed. Why does she live in an area like this when daddy has all that money?
I park my car and beep it three times, just to make sure it’s locked, then rush to her door, trying to calm my nerves before pushing the Ryder/Gab buzzer. Interesting. Who’s Gab?
“Come on up, Chicago,” the voice says through the speaker, then the door buzzes open.
I open it slowly, looking back at my precious car, praying that no one touches her while I’m not around, then slip inside the dark apartment building. The girl over the intercom, who was most definitely not Annaliese, told me to come ‘up’, so I head up the elevator and stop at the top when the doors open. There are four apartments up here and I wasn’t smart enough to look at the numbers, so now I have four rooms to choose from. Just great. I’m fairly certain the night we came back here a couple of weeks ago, the first night I met Annaliese, we went into a door on the left, but I can’t remember for the life of me. My brain was too foggy with the sexy, drunk woman that was trying to rip my clothes off.
A door swings open from a room on the right and a wrinkly old lady shuffles out into the hall, her cat twisting between her feet, then she grabs a paper and goes back inside, slamming the door behind her. Well, that’s one apartment I know she’s not in. I look around, wishing I would’ve looked harder at the apartment numbers downstairs when a door at the end of the hall opens and a girl steps out into the hallway.
“You coming or not? Wait, don’t answer that. I’d rather not know.” She rolls her eyes and sighs. “She’s in here.” She holds her arm out in a grand gesture, way too overdramatic, and I walk down the hall and enter their apartment.
Small doesn’t even cut it. The floors, all hardwood, have seen better days. The living room, dining room, and kitchen are all one room, no walls separating them. I’m certain the windows haven’t been replaced since the building was built, and the exposed brick wall looks like it could crumble any day. The girls have done a good job at decorating and keeping it clean, but what I don’t understand is why Annaliese would live in a place like this when her dad has so much money. I wonder if Vick knows what this place looks like.
The entire time I’m scrutinizing their apartment, the girl that answered the door is staring at me. Arms crossed, scowl on her face, not happy at all. When she clears her throat, I turn around and see Annaliese. My dick jumps to instant attention like it's fucking saluting her, my mouth goes dry, and I’m at a loss for words.
She’s perfect.
“Hey,” she says as she stands in the opening to the small hallway that leads to their bedrooms. “You’re early.”
“I know. I couldn’t wait. Sorry,” I say, embarrassed that she called me out on being fifteen minutes early.
“It’s fine. Let me grab some shoes and I’ll be ready to head out.” She smiles at me and turns and walks back into her room, only gone for a few minutes before returning with a huge smile on her face and the bright red heels from the restaurant on her beautiful feet.
“You look… ravishing,” I grind out as I lessen the space between us and pull her in for a quick kiss. “So beautiful.”
“Well thank you, Adam.” She leans in to my ear and her w
arm breath spreads across my neck as she whispers, “You look pretty damn delicious, too.”
I close my eyes and steady my breath, mentally preparing myself for a night of torture from being around her and not being able to fuck her. The girl that opened the door clears her throat and claps her hands together once, getting our attention.
“Oh sorry. Adam, this is my roommate and best friend Gabby. Gabby, this is Adam Callahan,” she says sweetly, then raises her eyebrows at Gabby expectantly. Gabby reaches out and shakes my hand curtly.
“As much as this is so sweet, I’m about to barf. You two need to leave. Now.” She opens the door and starts to scoot us out the door. When Annaliese is in the hallway, she pulls me back in and slams the door. My eyes go wide as she pins me with her death rays.
“You hurt her, mentally or physically, and I will find you. I’ll cut your balls off with an exacto knife, I’ll filet your dick, and I’ll feed it to you. Raw.”
Shit, she’s fucking nuts!
“I don’t plan on hurting her.” Why do these girls think I’m such an asshole?
“I bet you didn’t plan on cheating on your ex-wife either.” She grinds out, then opens the door and looks at Annaliese. “Sorry, babe, he had toilet paper stuck on his shoe and I didn’t want to embarrass him. Whoops… guess I just did.” And with that, she walks through their tiny apartment and into her bedroom, slamming the door.
I’m stunned by her words, but everything is starting to make more sense now.
Chapter 11
Annaliese
We ride the elevator in silence. Something she said to him has him in a totally different mood than he was in before. I’ll kill her if she ruined tonight for me. I can’t keep up the charade that Mr. Chicago really wants to be with me and only me, and I’m not the type of girl to be okay with sharing him. Tonight’s just for fun because I can’t stop thinking about him and I have no self-control. After tonight, though, I’m not sure I’ll be able to see him again. The more we hang out, the more I want the happily ever after with him, and that’s not a good thing when it comes to Adam Callahan. Manwhore of Chicago.
He lets me into his Audi and I sigh as I mold into the leather seats. Jesus, this man has good taste in cars. My father taught me to appreciate cars growing up and it seems that Adam has that same sense of appreciation.
When his door shuts I think he’s going to start the car right away, but instead he turns and looks at me with a worried and confused look on his face.
“Why do you think so low of me?” The hurt in his voice breaks my heart. I never said I thought low of him. Where is he getting this from?
“What’re you talking about, Adam?”
“You don’t think I can do this. That I’m capable of a relationship. I see it in your eyes and it hurts. Why do you think like that?”
My eyes are wide and I’m afraid he’s going to make me get out of the car. He’s not angry, but he looks hurt that I feel that way. The scary part of all of this is that he’s actually right. I don’t think he can do it. I don’t think he’s capable of a monogamous relationship. Once a cheater, always a cheater.
“Tell me,” his voice, barely a whisper, urges me.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to tell me why you’re so certain that I’m not able to do this. What did you hear?”
This is not the way I thought tonight would start. He was supposed to sweep me off my feet with his romance, but instead he’s breaking my heart. The only thing I can do is tell him the truth. If there’s one thing about life that I always had drilled into my brain, it was that the truth, no matter how hard, is always the right choice.
“Adam, I just… once a cheater, always a cheater, right?” I whisper it, hoping that he doesn’t heat the hurt in my voice. It hurts just saying the words, but it’s the truth. He’s a cheater.
His eyes widen and he sets his jaw so tightly I feel like I can hear his teeth grinding. Without saying anything, he nods his head, shifts in his seat, and turns on the car. I reach and buckle my seatbelt, not asking what that was all about or inquiring whether or not he accepts my answer. He has to accept it. It’s the truth.
The drive to dinner is awkward and silent. There are a few times I feel like I could have started a conversation about something, but he doesn’t seem like he’s in a talking mood. I’m just happy my honesty didn’t cost me my night with him. He’s a great person to just be with—especially when he lets his walls down. I see it in his eyes. I saw it when he was talking about his grandparents, and I feel bad for him that the media has taken a liking to portraying him as an asshole. I want to tell him I don’t think he’s a shithead, but I don’t. I want to tell him that it’s okay he cheated, but I can’t because it isn’t. I want to tell him that I’ll be with him, that I’ll give him a chance to prove to me that he can do the relationship thing, but I’m not sure that my heart could take it when he fails at it.
By the time we get to the restaurant, we’ve made small talk, but nothing too consequential. I notice him glance my way, worriedly, as we pull into the back alley of the small Italian restaurant, but I don’t say anything. I just smile warmly, reassuring him that I’m still here with him. I’m going to kill Gabby for whatever she said to him to make him feel the need to ask me that in the car. She can be intimidating when she wants to be, and I wouldn’t put it past her to threaten him in one way or another. I just need to ask him what she said to him. If any type of friendship is going to come out of this thing we have, anything at all, it needs to be built on trust and the truth.
“Adam, so nice to see you! It’s been too long.” A very thick Italian accent booms through the open window of the Audi and Adam laughs and opens his door.
“Paolo,” Adam says as he hugs the man, then glances at me as I shut my car door.
“Adam, you made this beautiful woman open her own door? Shame, my young friend. You have much to learn,” he chides as he walks towards me and pulls me into an embrace, kissing me on each cheek.
“Um, hi,” I smile and say as he lets go of me. “I’m Annaliese.”
“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Adam is very lucky to have you.”
“We’re just friends,” I say. I’m not sure what made me feel the need to clear that up, but I regret it when I look at Adam’s face. His face that was relaxed, transformed into a tight jaw, stern eyes, directed right at me.
“Well then, friends,” Paolo stresses and looks over at Adam, “Let’s get you two to your table.”
We walk through the kitchen to get to our table, not caring who sees us as I believe the man who met us at the door is the owner, and come out into the restaurant from the back. He lets us sit in a small booth in a back corner, probably so Adam isn’t recognized, then leaves us to get a waiter. Adam lets me sit first then takes his seat like a true gentleman. The waiter quickly arrives at the table and takes our drink orders, then retreats as quickly as he came.
“He couldn’t take his eyes off you,” Adam says in a low voice, his eyes slowly moving from the back of our waiter to me. When they hit me, I feel the warmth start to grow. Just a look from him and I’m lost for words. He does that to me every time those dark and expressive eyes hit mine.
“He was being polite,” I say as I try and shrug off the comment though he does have a point. That waiter was definitely looking at parts of me I’d rather he didn’t.
“He was checking you out,” he states flatly.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, not knowing why, but I really want him to lighten up.
“Don’t. You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry for being so moody tonight. It was a long day today,” he says, then sighs and adjusts his tie. “So, tell me, Annaliese. I’m very curious what you think you know about me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you seem to have me all figured out, without ever actually having a conversation with me about my life. So tell me... what do you think you know about me?”
His eyes are drilling into mine, his hand gently and absentmindedly wiping the condensation off his glass, and a smirk has started playing on his lips. This is the cocky Adam that I’m getting used to, but still don’t enjoy. He has so many different sides, and the more time I spend around him, the more sides I’m learning about. He’s staring at me, waiting for an answer. How does someone answer a question like that? Isn’t he supposed to be woo-ing me? Do men even woo anymore? Why the hell am I talking like I’m eighty?
“Well... umm....” I stutter a bit. “I know you have all kinds of money, you own your own company that is the biggest start-up company in Chicago, and you like women. A lot of them.”
He nods his head and takes a drink, never taking his eyes off mine. Swallowing his drink, he sets it back down and cocks his head.
“Go on.”
“What else should I say?”
“I want to know everything you think you know. Everything.”
“I’m not sure what you’re searching for, Adam.” This night is not going anywhere nearly as planned. By now, I was hoping for the night to be full of dirty talk and the promises of a long night of hot sex. Right now, though still fully aware of every movement his body makes, I see no promise of sex later. He’s grilling me, and I’m ultimately failing.
“Just trying to get to know each other.” He shrugs and takes another drink.
“You’re doing it wrong,” I mumble.
Thankfully, the waiter picks this time to take our orders so I’m able to think about his request after I order. It’s a strange request, so he has to have a reason behind it. Maybe he wants to understand why I feel the way I do about him, or maybe he’s just trying to figure out how to spin his next interview. If he knows how the public sees him, then he’ll be apt to change his image a little bit. Hopefully.
I should just tell him that I’m not certain he can do this because he hasn’t proven to society that he’s worthwhile in the boyfriend or husband department yet. I should tell him as much as I’d love to be able to deepen my relationship with him, I can’t because I don’t want to end up hurt. I should tell him, and I will. I’ll tell him as soon as the waiter is finished taking our orders. When I glance up at him after the waiter walks away, though, he starts talking before I’m able to get any words out.