Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Walking up the street toward the ballet company, I pull my coat tighter around my body in an attempt to ward off the cold front that hit New York early this morning.

It’s colder than usual for this time of year, which means we’re going to shit ice cubes this winter.

Suddenly, an expensive sports car with dark-tinted windows comes to a screeching stop a couple of feet ahead of me, and when the driver’s door opens, and a man steps out, I freeze in my tracks.

Shit. Dario.

I spin around and walk as fast as I can away from him, but I only manage a few steps before he darts in front of me. He grips hold of my arm, his hold a little too tight for my liking.

“Finally,” he breathes. “I thought I wouldn’t see you again.”

Well, I did try my best to avoid you.

I glance down at his fingers around my arm, then say, “Can you let go of me?”

“No.”

His reply shocks me and causes a frown to form on my forehead.

Dario looks around us, and the next second, he drags me across the street toward a Starbucks.

“Hey,” I snap.

“Just have coffee with me, then I’ll let you go.”

I glance over my shoulder to where his car is parked in a no-parking zone.

“They’re going to tow your car away,” I mention in the hopes that I can get out having coffee with him because I need to get my ass to work.

“I don’t care,” he mutters.

Once inside the warm coffee shop, I’m pulled to a table and practically shoved down in a chair.

I glare at Dario as he takes a seat across from me. “If you manhandle me again, I’m going to knee you in your balls.”

Much to my surprise, he lets out an amused chuckle. His eyes shine with a mischievous look, which makes me think he’s not taking me seriously.

“You won’t be the first guy I bring to his knees,” I mutter while crossing my arms over my chest.

“Tesoro, the day I’m on my knees in front of you, it will be because I’m eating your pussy and not because you managed to knee me.”

Holy shit.

My mouth drops open, and I can only gape at the man and his filthy mouth.

A triumphant smile curves his lips. “Good. Now that I have your attention, I have a few questions I need answered.”

My eyebrows lift, and I finally find my tongue again. “What makes you think I’m going to answer questions?”

His gaze narrows enough for me to know he means every word when he says, “I will tie you to that chair if I have to, but you’re not leaving here until I have my answers.”

“Geez, demanding much?” My body relaxes in the chair, and I glance at the menu on the wall. “I want a hot chocolate.” My eyes latch onto the display counter that’s loaded with all kinds of delicious desserts. “And I want a chocolate chip cookie and a slice of cheesecake. The dessert is to go for later.”

I want to give the cake to Tyrone to say thank you for always being there for me, and I might as well make Dario pay for it.

“If you make a run for it, I swear I will tackle you off your feet,” he warns me.

I wave a hand at the counter. “Just go get my hot chocolate.”

There’s a weary look on his face as he gets up, and as soon as he walks to the counter, I pull my cell phone out and send a quick text to Quincy, who’s the security guard at the company.

I’ll be thirty minutes late. A huge chocolate chip cookie from Starbucks is yours if you cover for me.

I glance at where Dario’s placing the order before my attention is pulled back to my phone as a message comes through.

Quincy: I got you covered.

I put my phone away and look at Dario again. It’s only now that I take a moment to drink in the sight of the man, and damn, he looks better than I remember.

Even though I’ve been avoiding him, I haven’t stopped thinking about him.

Or the kiss we shared.

I have to admit a part of me feels super flattered that he’s giving me attention.

When he returns to the table with two drinks and my desserts in a paper bag, I pick up the glass and take a sip of the sweet and warm beverage.

God, just what I needed.

Dario adds sugar into his black expresso as he says, “First question. What’s your name?”

I play with the idea of giving him a fake name, but in the end, I mutter, “Eden.”

A sexy-as-hell smile curves his lips up. “I’ve never met anyone with that name before. It suits you.”

“It better suit me. I’m stuck with it for life.” I start to feel bad for being so bitchy but worrying about getting to work and not blowing my cover is pushing my stress level to its limit.

Dario relaxes in his chair, and with his eyes locked on my face, he murmurs in a deep and rough voice, “Eden.”

My abdomen clenches so hard I shift in my seat and look everywhere but at him.

“Were you heading to the studio when I stopped you?” he asks.

Shit.

I quickly shake my head. “No, I don’t go there anymore.”

“Why?”

Because I’d like to keep my job and not get fired.

“Ah…I don’t have time.” I hate lying, but paying the bills is more important than my moral ethics.

“Why are you avoiding looking at me?” he asks.

My eyes snap to his way too handsome face. “I’m not.”

He tilts his head as he fires another question in my direction. “Why did you run after the kiss?”

Ooooh damn.

I spit out the first thing that comes to mind. “It was either run or fuck you right there on the floor.”

“I would’ve been fine with the latter.” Dario’s eyes narrow on my face as if he’s trying to see into my soul. “It’s clear the attraction is mutual, yet you avoid me. Why?”

Because you own the company I work for.

The pressure I’m feeling makes laughter burst over my lips while I try to think of an answer to give him.

“What’s so funny?” Dario asks.

I try to rein in the laughter while shaking my head. “It’s a weird thing I do when I’m in trouble or feel awkward.”

“You’re not in trouble, and you don’t seem like someone who gets awkward,” he states. “Is there another reason?”

I take a sip of my hot chocolate, then mutter, “Can we change the subject?”

“You still owe me an answer,” he reminds me.

Now that I’ve had time to think, I realize I don’t have to lie as I tell him the truth. “I’m avoiding you because I’m not looking for a fling.”

“Who said anything about a fling?” Dario asks.

Annoyed by all the questions and needing to get my ass to work, I grab the paper bag, but before I can get up, Dario grabs hold of my wrist.

“I need to go,” I say, my tone tense from this little encounter.

“I’ll let you go if you give me your phone number,” he tries to make a deal.

I think about it for a moment, then let out a sigh. “Fine.”

I wait for him to pull his cell phone from his pocket before I rattle my number off to him.

Giving his hand around my wrist a pointed look, I mutter, “A deal’s a deal.”

When he lets go, I meet his eyes for a moment, which is a mistake because I instantly feel the intense pull between us.

“I’ll call you soon,” he says as he picks up his cup of coffee.

I stare at Dario for a few seconds longer before I turn around and rush out of the Starbucks.

Just as I step out onto the sidewalk, my phone starts to ring. I pull the device out of my pocket, and thinking it’s Quincy calling to tell me to get my ass to work, I don’t look at the screen and answer, “Hey.”

“Just making sure you gave me the right number before you disappear from my sight,” Dario’s voice rumbles in my ear.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see him watching me through the window.

“Okay. Bye.” I end the call, and pushing the device back into my pocket, I walk as fast as I can toward the ballet company.

Knowing Dario is probably heading in the same direction, I walk around the back, where I give the security camera a pleading look.

I hope Quincy sees me on the security feed.

And here, I’ve done my best to make sure my face is always hidden from the cameras around the building.

All for nothing.

When five minutes pass, I worry I’ll have no choice but to use the main entrance. Just as I start to walk away, the door clicks open, and Quincy asks, “Why are you using this door?”

“I’m avoiding someone.” I enter the building and dig the chocolate cookie from the paper bag. “Here you go.”

“Just in time for my coffee break.”

I hurry to the staff locker room and quickly put on my apron and cap. Retrieving my cleaning cart, I check that I have all the supplies I’ll need, and only when I push the cart toward the auditorium do I manage to let out a relieved breath.

My mind starts racing with thoughts of my interaction with Dario.

God, I was so rude to the man.

Feeling bad, I pull my cell phone out and type a quick message to him.

Eden: Sorry for being so rude. You just caught me at a bad time.

I watch as he instantly reads the message, then it shows he’s typing.

Dario: At least I caught you.

A smile tugs at my lips.

Dario: Have dinner with me on Friday.

My smile fades, and I stare at the message for a while before I type my reply.

Eden: I’m busy Friday night, but I can squeeze you in on Sunday.

Dario: Sunday works for me. Send me your address so I can pick you up.

My eyebrows fly up, and I shake my head as my fingers fly over my phone’s keyboard.

Eden: I’m not telling a perfect stranger where I live. I’ll meet you somewhere.

Dario: Six pm at Yukhaejang.

I’ve never heard of the place.

I quickly Google the name and see it’s a restaurant. Going back to my messenger app, I send Dario another text.

Eden: I’ll be there.

Dario: Just so there’s no misunderstanding, it’s a date.

I stare at the words, torn between feeling excited and worried.

A date with Dario La Rosa.

What am I doing?