Dirty Prince

by Vanessa Waltz

  Oh, shut up.

  I kept opening my phone during the BART trip, half-hoping that I would receive an email from the billionaire canceling the meeting. Just relax, I kept telling myself. I wobbled on my heels as the train stopped on Montgomery and left the heated train, my legs freezing as I ascended the escalator into the night.

  The streets were filled with people who just left work. Even during the weekdays, San Francisco nightlife thrived and those who were rich enough to afford living in the city would be hitting the city’s many restaurants and lounges with their coworkers. I used to walk past them all the time during my internship. Jealousy burned in my stomach when my coworkers would go out together and leave me behind, knowing that I always took the BART home. I never went out with them after work because I couldn’t afford eight-dollar cocktail drinks and tapas plates that cost double that.

  I walked to the MUNI bus around the corner and dumped quarters into the machine. I glanced at my phone and felt my heartbeat in my throat. Six-thirty p.m. No turning back now. I clutched the rim of my seat for dear life as the MUNI shuddered and banged up the steep streets.

  I wanted to throw up as the bus stopped on the street I was supposed to get off. What the hell was I thinking? Why did I agree to do this? You agreed out of desperation.

  Wrapping my coat tight around myself, I carefully descended the steps. The sea air whipped down the streets violently from the Marina and tossed my hair around my head. I raced across the street towards A16, a small restaurant tucked into the wall that was teeming with people behind its softly lit windows. The tiny, square sign glowed in the misty air. I stopped for a moment to calm myself. I checked my phone one last time to find a text from Natalie:

  Good luck

  Closing my eyes, I said a silent thank you to her for the confidence boost needed to grasp the dark door’s brass handle. The smell of baking crust and tomatoes blasted into my face, making my mouth water instantly. It was funny how I often didn’t realize how starving I was until the smell of something appetizing floated across my nose.

  The interior of the restaurant was dark and intimate. Like most places in San Francisco, the space was small. The bar and kitchen stretched on the right side of the restaurant, and a row of tables draped with linen on the left. The back of the restaurant had a long table enclosed in a glass room, slightly separated from the rest of the restaurant.

  I squeezed past the people waiting for a table on the sides and approached the hostess. Well, now what? What do I tell her? I don’t even know his name.

  “Ma’am, would you like us to take your coat?”

  An employee swooped in from nowhere and held out his hand expectantly.

  “Oh!” I was clutching my coat as if I depended on it for survival. “Yes, please.”

  I slipped the fake wool coat from my shoulders, feeling naked without it. My black purse dangled from my shoulder.

  The hostess gave me a dubious smile, as if she could see through the carefully constructed wardrobe and deduced that I had nowhere near the amount of money to afford eating at this place. “Welcome to A16! Do you have a reservation?”

  “Hi—uh—no, well, yes.” My high-pitched laugh made me cringe. “It’s for seven o’clock. I’m supposed to meet someone. My name’s Jessica.”

  Her eyes widened with renewed interest. “Ah, yes. Mr. Pardini has been waiting. Please follow me.”

  Yeah, that’s right, I thought as I returned a haughty smile to her bewildered expression. I have a date with a billionaire. The cacophony of surrounding conversation quickly swallowed my short, nervous laugh. My teeth clenched together so hard that my jaw ached. How awkward would I be with the billionaire? Stop referring to him as ‘the billionaire’!

  Something stirred inside my head when the host mentioned his name. Pardini. Where did I hear that name before?

  The hostess walked straight to the bar and I scanned the people sitting on the stools, trying to figure out which one was L. She walked to a man dressed in a dark blue suit sitting idly on the bar, his long fingers playing with the stem of a wineglass. I couldn’t see his face at all, only the back of his head which was thick with dark brown hair, imperfectly groomed as though he had just had a long day at work. Clearly afraid to touch him, she leaned in.

  “Mr. Pardini!”

  His head turned to the left and I caught a glimpse of a stunning profile. She said something I couldn’t catch and his dimples creased into a smile. Now it was his turn to pick me out of the crowd. I wanted to run away, but his cool blue eyes froze me in place. His calculating gaze swept up and down, and I was so entranced that I didn’t even notice that he slipped off the stool and walked towards me.

  He was so beautiful that it almost made me want to cry, because I knew that someone like that would never, ever be into me. It was impossible.

  “Hi, I’m Luke.”

  A high-pitched, teenage voice squealed inside my head. Oh my God. This guy is really incredibly hot. Stunned into disbelief, I completely forgot my fear. I pulled my lips into what I thought was a sweet smile and slipped my hand into his. His hand was reassuring and instant heat traveled through his skin and into mine, up my arm and glowing somewhere in my chest. He was the stuff of fantasies, and yet, his face wasn’t so perfect that it was unnerving like so many actors in Hollywood with perfectly straightened teeth as white as Chiclets.

  I was supposed to say something, but his mesmerizing eyes promised there was no other person in the world he would rather see than me. I sniggered and felt a violent blush creeping up my neck. “Uh, it’s really nice to meet you.” Really, really nice.

  He made a slight “hmm” and his smile became a grin, as if he knew the effect he had over me and was thoroughly enjoying it.

  “If you follow me, I’ll show you to your table.”

  I squeezed his hand suddenly. I forgot she was there. Let go of his hand! And stop staring at him!

  I dropped my gaze and let go of him. My hand trembled as it returned to my side and I felt like one of those Twihards shrieking at Robert Pattinson. What was wrong with me? I walked in front of Luke and followed the hostess as she brought us to the back, to the room separated by a wall of glass. It was meant for larger parties, but Luke probably paid to reserve it. Of course he did. He had piles of money.

  Luke pulled out my chair with one hand like a perfect gentleman and I sat down, inhaling something that must have been cedar cologne. The scent disappeared as he swept around the table, but it left me intoxicated and I blinked at him as though I were slightly drunk. He was so handsome that I couldn’t bear looking at him longer than a few seconds. Would he be able to detect how hard I was crushing on him? He looked more like a male model than a businessman. His dark hair fell into his eyes with a casual elegance that few men could achieve. He smiled at me and my cheeks burned violently.

  “Would you like anything to drink, ma’am?”

  God, yes.

  She slid a drink menu under my hands and I snapped my attention towards it. I didn’t recognize any of these wines. The only wines I knew were of the Charles Shaw variety that sold for five bucks a pop at Trader Joe’s.

  “Just get me a dry red. Something you think is good.”

  She nodded. “Would you like another glass, Mr. Pardini?”

  “Yes, please.”

  His voice stroked me. It was very deep and calming. When the hostess left, there was no reason to avoid looking at the remarkable specimen sitting in front of me. When I met his gaze, he smiled again and warmth flooded my chest. Pardini. A small explosion took place in the pit of my stomach.

  “I know you!” I blurted. “You were on ET the other night.” The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to smack myself. You did not just say that.

  The smile on his face faltered. He pinched the bridge of his nose and uttered a small groan. “Yes, I’m sure I was.”

  So it really was him. The rich playboy with daddy issues used an online dating website. None of this made sense.

 
The waitress returned to set the wine glass next to me. I watched her fill the glass impatiently and I took an unnecessarily large gulp as she poured him more wine. I couldn’t look away from him. I was fascinated by him—and my strong feelings towards him.

  “I apologize for all the secrecy, but unfortunately it was necessary.” He reached inside his suit jacket that looked like it cost more than my car and pulled out several papers and a pen. He set them down and slid the pile towards me face up.

  Oh, right. The non-disclosure agreement. In the email, he outlined the expectation for me to sign it “upon arrival.” I pulled it towards me and signed it. The penalty for violating the agreement was a whopping three million dollars. No article writing for me, then. I slid the papers back towards him and he folded them back into his jacket, looking slightly relieved.

  He looked at me shrewdly. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t. Have you?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve interviewed several candidates but I found none of them suitable.”

  Candidates. What a strange word. “What is it exactly that you want me to do?”

  The mysterious smile reappeared. “I don’t want to get into that today. I just want to get to know you.”

  My face grew hot, made worse with the wine. I was aware that he could see how uncomfortable I was. He was gorgeous and I was a nobody. I didn’t get it. “What I don’t understand is why you think you need a paid arrangement.”

  No, stupid! Don’t say that. Just shut up and take his money!

  He took another sip of wine and I heard the liquid hiss through his teeth. Then he looked at me. “I know what I want, and I have very little time. This is just the easiest way for me.”

  A small shiver went through my body. Why would he want me? But he did all the same and it was overwhelming.

  “So, tell me about yourself, Jessica.”

  Now, I felt like I was in an interview. “Well, I graduated last year with a Bachelor’s in English and I really want an editing position at a magazine somewhere. I’ve been trying to get one for a year, but all I could find were unpaid internships. I signed up for this because I need an income to pay for my expenses.” I shrugged. “I think that I’m a pretty honest, reliable person. I could leave references for you, if you want. To be honest, I really need the money.” It was embarrassing to admit it.

  Suddenly, the room was filled with the smell of freshly baked pizza. I snapped my head around and saw the rather perfect sight of the waitress bearing a steaming pizza. She set it down over a metal stand in the middle of the table. It was a cheerful, vivid red with slightly burnt edges, no doubt cooked in a wood-burning oven. Little specks of green dotted the sauce and I smelled the basil from the rising, swirling steam. I had a reaction that could only be described as Pavlovian.

  “The pizza here is the best in the Bay Area. It’s almost like eating pizza in Rome.”

  I didn’t care where it was from, as long as I got to eat it. “I can’t wait to try it.”

  He smiled politely as he cut a slice for me and slid the plate in front of me. Perhaps he was used to the type of girls who only ordered salads when they went out.

  “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  Flustered, I glanced at his face and saw that he was serious. “No, ‘course not. I’ve never really—” I stopped myself. I almost told him that I’d never had one. “I’ve never really had much time for boyfriends.” My hand trembled as I took another sip of wine.

  I watched him eat the pizza with a knife and fork, feeling suddenly barbaric as I picked up my slice with my hands. “Do you live in the city?”

  He gave me an uncertain nod. “I have a house, but I’m rarely home.”

  He probably had places all over the world. I finally bit into the pizza and moaned as the acidic taste of the tomatoes exploded over the perfectly baked crust, slightly blackened from the wood fire oven. “Oh my God!” I moaned elegantly through my mouthful of pizza. “This is—this is incredible!”

  Luke seemed to choke on his pizza as he looked at me and laughed. It was different from all of his polite, almost mechanical smiles. The corners of his eyes creased and he covered his mouth with his hand.

  Was he mocking me? No, there was kindness in his eyes—not cruelty. I returned his smile and laughed in spite of myself. “I’m actually kind of psycho about food. I volunteer at a soup kitchen every week and I organize the recipes.” Perhaps the wine made me so talkative, but I was flattered by Luke’s interest and the way he leaned in so he could hear me talk. I kept forgetting that this was an interview.

  “Every week, really? What for?”

  He sounded suspicious. Of course he was. He made me sign a NDA, for God’s sake. I gave him a half shrug. I didn’t exactly want to go into detail. “It started as a community service thing I wanted to do for my resume, but I found myself really enjoying it.” A frown crossed my face. “Well, until yesterday.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I mentally slapped myself again. He doesn’t need to know every damn detail of your private life! I waved my hand. “It’s not a big deal, but my car got broken into while I was volunteering and my GPS was stolen.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah, it kind of sucks.”

  We lapsed into silence as we finished the pizza. I devoured three more slices, savoring each bite. Does he eat like this all the time? Why wouldn’t he? After many sips from the equally delicious wine, I felt myself slip into a warm, happy stupor.

  “So where did you grow up?”

  I snapped to attention. “Hm? Oh—well I moved around a lot as a kid. First I lived in Richmond, then Fremont, Oakland, Antioch.” We were wading in dangerous waters. “How about yourself?”

  His face tightened. “Chicago. Well, I was there until my mother passed.” He shrugged. “Then my father sent me overseas to a boarding school in London.”

  God, so he really went to a boarding school. Years of lying in bed while reading Harry Potter and fantasizing about what it would be like to live in a castle full of children made me burn with jealousy. “What was it like there?” I said in an awed voice. “Were there houses?”

  He tilted his head and a slow smile spread across his face. “You mean like Gryffindor and Ravenclaw?”

  I laughed and took another sip of wine, trying to hide my embarrassment.

  “No, I’m afraid not. They’re not all they’re cracked up to be.”

  I sank in my chair, my bubble of excitement bursting. “Are you kidding me?”

  “The environment could be stifling. You’re in this studious environment from sunup to sundown. I was homesick a lot. It was lonely. At first, it was fun, but after a while you miss your mom and dad.”

  It was sad to hear that. Luke stared at some point over my shoulder, his eyes echoing with the loss of his mother and the pain of being sent away after her death. I couldn’t imagine what that must have felt like. I wanted to erase that unhappy look on his face.

  “You’re ruining my fantasy!”

  He laughed and shrugged apologetically. Luke looked at me intently, as if he was making his mind about something. His fingers drummed on the table and he reached inside his jacket.

  “I just need to ask you to fill out one more thing. You have to understand that I don’t trust very easily, and I’m going to need you to complete this form so I can do a background check.”

  I shrugged. “No problem.” I had nothing to hide, right? It wasn’t any different from applying to a job. I took the form and filled everything out, which included my address, phone number and social security number. A voice inside me said that it was a lot of private information to give to a complete stranger. Then Luke slid over the two thousand dollar check already written in my name and I took it shamefacedly. I don’t know why, but I felt guilty taking it. I had such a nice time with him.

  I returned the form to him, sensing that the meeting was over as he glanced at his watch.

 
; “Well, shall we?”

  I took one last sip of wine and stood up as he threw cash on the table. We walked through the bustling restaurant. The hostess reached into the closet to retrieve my sad, synthetic wool coat and I watched as Luke shrugged on his. I noticed his patent leather Italian shoes and felt so cheap by comparison. I was an impostor, a Cinderella, but with his hand on the small of my back, I didn’t feel like one.

  The glass doors swung outward and the chilly air struck my bones. Luke walked beside me with his hands deep inside his pockets.

  “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  I cringed as I stopped and turned to face him. “I—actually I took the BART and MUNI to get here.”

  The cold stung his cheeks with pink. “Oh. Why’s that?”

  I tried to look somewhere behind his head, anything to avoid meeting his gaze. “Well, like I said, my car was broken into and it needed to be fixed.”

  His voice was flat. “But repairing a windshield only takes an hour.” He wasn’t getting it.

  I bit my lip as tears suddenly welled in my eyes. Don’t cry, you idiot. I balled my hands into fists until my fingernails bit painfully into my flesh. “Yes, well, I couldn’t afford it. So they kept my car.” I couldn’t quite keep the pain out of my voice.

  None of us said anything for a while. No doubt, he was looking for some sort of phrase, some appropriate response for this situation that he had been taught in his gentlemen classes at his overseas boarding school.

  “I’ll call a town car.”

  I whirled around as I saw his thumb moving rapidly over his cell phone. I swallowed the lump in my throat painfully. “No, really. It’s okay. I’m fine with taking the BART; I do it all the time. It’s no big deal.” For some reason, the pressure behind my eyes doubled. I didn’t want him feeling sorry for me.

  “Neither is calling a town car.”

  I wanted to argue, but his hand reached out and touched my shoulder, squeezing it slightly.