Dinner with the Billionaire (Erotic Romance) (Rendezvous with the Billionaire Book 2) Read Online Free Page A
my lawyer’s number. No need to come so far from their precinct.
It was O’Hara who answered while Santiago shook her head. “Not today.”
“Okay, well. Bye.” I hightailed it out of the lobby without saying anything else. I felt like such a spaz, but I couldn’t deal with them, not with my nerves still on edge from those few minutes alone with Evan.
In half a daze I walked down the street to one of my favorite delis. It was called Ma’s and was barely more than a hole in the wall. I’d found it on my first week on the job. It was everything I wanted from a deli, and no matter when I went, it was nearly deserted. But the food was delicious and it wasn’t hideously expensive, so I’d take it.
But it looked like I was destined to have company that day. Another man stood in line by the counter, looking over the selection of pastries in the glass case. I could see that he had long dark hair and wore a really nice suit. And while I did take a moment to appreciate how well it fit his ass, I tore my eyes away after a second. Ogling men had gotten me in enough trouble as it was.
And my opinion of his hotness, or at least the hotness of his backside, was quickly declining. He needed to make a selection before I just skipped ahead of him. But he turned around and offered me something approaching a breathtaking smile. I damn near expected the light to wink off of his white teeth. He had dark eyes and heavy brows, but fine cheekbones and a sturdy chin. It should have been all a mish mash, but he made it work. “So, baklava or a cookie?”
He had to ask? But his smile was doing things to me and I could feel my lips tugging up. “Baklava, always. Unless it’s my grandma. Then cookies.”
Wait, why was I sharing that? But he laughed and nodded. When he turned away to speak to the cashier, I assumed that was that. But he waited until I finished ordering and sat with me at my table without so much as asking. “Excuse me?”
The dark eyed man laughed. "You're excused, though I don't know that you've done anything to warrant it."
"Wait, to warrant what?" I felt like I'd missed a vital part of this conversation somewhere.
"I see no need for you to be excused, you haven't done anything wrong, have you?" He smiled as a server brought us our food and thanked her when she left. So he might be presumptuous, but at least he wasn't rude to wait staff. "I'm Dylan, by the way. Marquez."
"Charmed, I'm sure." But there was something about this guy, maybe just the super aggressive confidence that lead him to sit at my table when there were plenty of other ones available. I didn't know, but I decided to play along. "Amy."
His lips smiled around his coffee cup. "That's a nice name. So what brings you by? Not too many people know about this place."
I took a dainty bite of my sandwich before answering. "I work right around the corner. What about you?"
His face grew dark, "My sister is meeting her fiancé for lunch; she insisted that I accompany her. She hates Manhattan."
I looked him up and down, he looked 100% Manhattan, and it seemed strange that his sister wouldn't be. I loved the city too much, couldn't understand when people didn't. If they didn't want the hustle and bustle of the city, why would they even come here? I shrugged. "Her loss." But there was that look on his face, "Do you share her view?"
His face cleared and he smiled again, this time it didn't quite encompass all of his face. "Oh no, I love it here. Couldn't imagine being anywhere else." He told me more about himself, he worked for his family's investment firm and was just back from a great vacation in Europe. He'd lived in the city his entire life except for during college and a short stint in his early twenties.
And he got the same information from me. I wasn't from New York but got there as soon as I could, that I'd gone to a tiny liberal arts college that I was sure he'd never heard of. But maybe he'd heard of where I worked, at Daringer Associates? His
It was O’Hara who answered while Santiago shook her head. “Not today.”
“Okay, well. Bye.” I hightailed it out of the lobby without saying anything else. I felt like such a spaz, but I couldn’t deal with them, not with my nerves still on edge from those few minutes alone with Evan.
In half a daze I walked down the street to one of my favorite delis. It was called Ma’s and was barely more than a hole in the wall. I’d found it on my first week on the job. It was everything I wanted from a deli, and no matter when I went, it was nearly deserted. But the food was delicious and it wasn’t hideously expensive, so I’d take it.
But it looked like I was destined to have company that day. Another man stood in line by the counter, looking over the selection of pastries in the glass case. I could see that he had long dark hair and wore a really nice suit. And while I did take a moment to appreciate how well it fit his ass, I tore my eyes away after a second. Ogling men had gotten me in enough trouble as it was.
And my opinion of his hotness, or at least the hotness of his backside, was quickly declining. He needed to make a selection before I just skipped ahead of him. But he turned around and offered me something approaching a breathtaking smile. I damn near expected the light to wink off of his white teeth. He had dark eyes and heavy brows, but fine cheekbones and a sturdy chin. It should have been all a mish mash, but he made it work. “So, baklava or a cookie?”
He had to ask? But his smile was doing things to me and I could feel my lips tugging up. “Baklava, always. Unless it’s my grandma. Then cookies.”
Wait, why was I sharing that? But he laughed and nodded. When he turned away to speak to the cashier, I assumed that was that. But he waited until I finished ordering and sat with me at my table without so much as asking. “Excuse me?”
The dark eyed man laughed. "You're excused, though I don't know that you've done anything to warrant it."
"Wait, to warrant what?" I felt like I'd missed a vital part of this conversation somewhere.
"I see no need for you to be excused, you haven't done anything wrong, have you?" He smiled as a server brought us our food and thanked her when she left. So he might be presumptuous, but at least he wasn't rude to wait staff. "I'm Dylan, by the way. Marquez."
"Charmed, I'm sure." But there was something about this guy, maybe just the super aggressive confidence that lead him to sit at my table when there were plenty of other ones available. I didn't know, but I decided to play along. "Amy."
His lips smiled around his coffee cup. "That's a nice name. So what brings you by? Not too many people know about this place."
I took a dainty bite of my sandwich before answering. "I work right around the corner. What about you?"
His face grew dark, "My sister is meeting her fiancé for lunch; she insisted that I accompany her. She hates Manhattan."
I looked him up and down, he looked 100% Manhattan, and it seemed strange that his sister wouldn't be. I loved the city too much, couldn't understand when people didn't. If they didn't want the hustle and bustle of the city, why would they even come here? I shrugged. "Her loss." But there was that look on his face, "Do you share her view?"
His face cleared and he smiled again, this time it didn't quite encompass all of his face. "Oh no, I love it here. Couldn't imagine being anywhere else." He told me more about himself, he worked for his family's investment firm and was just back from a great vacation in Europe. He'd lived in the city his entire life except for during college and a short stint in his early twenties.
And he got the same information from me. I wasn't from New York but got there as soon as I could, that I'd gone to a tiny liberal arts college that I was sure he'd never heard of. But maybe he'd heard of where I worked, at Daringer Associates? His
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