~ 3

Chapter 3

~ Kesley ~

"What?"

The word came out as a squeak. My brain completely short-circuited.

Did he just... did he actually just say what I think he said?

"To satisfy your cravings," Niklaus repeated, his voice calm and matter-of-fact, like he was discussing the weather. "Since you didn't bring a car, we can take mine. It's parked outside."

Oh my God. Oh my God, oh my GOD.

He was serious. He was actually serious. This gorgeous, powerful CEO just agreed to have sex with a complete stranger he met five minutes ago. What kind of person does that?

Is he a pervert? A womanizer? Some kind of rich playboy who thinks every woman is available for his entertainment?

My mind was racing. This was supposed to make him uncomfortable. This was supposed to make him reject "Taraji" and never want to see her again. I thought men didn't like women who were too forward on the first date. I thought being sexually aggressive would scare him off!

Instead, he looked completely unfazed. In fact, he looked... expectant? Like he was waiting for me to follow him out of the restaurant.

"I..." My voice failed me. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

What do I say? What do I do? This has gone completely off script!

"We should go now," he said, adjusting his cufflinks casually. "Unless you've changed your mind?"

"No! I mean… yes! I mean…" I was stammering like an idiot. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

Think, Kelsey, think! You cannot end up in bed with this man. You cannot lose your virginity to some random CEO on a fake blind date. Taraji would kill you. You would kill yourself!

But I was frozen. My feet wouldn't move. My brain was screaming at me to run, but my body wasn't listening.

Niklaus gestured toward the restaurant exit with his hand, a small, almost polite smile on his face. "After you."

After me? After me WHERE? To his car? To his mansion? To some fancy hotel room where he probably takes all his random hookups?

Jesus Christ, what have I gotten myself into?

My legs felt like they were made of lead as I started walking. I wasn't even making the decision to walk — my body was just moving on autopilot, one foot in front of the other. The heels I was wearing suddenly felt even taller, making each step wobbly and uncertain.

This is fine. This is totally fine. Maybe he's joking? Maybe this is some kind of test?

But he didn't look like he was joking. He walked beside me, tall and composed, like this was completely normal. Like women threw themselves at him every day and he just... accepted it.

The other diners were staring at us as we walked through the restaurant. 

I probably looked exactly like what I was pretending to be — a desperate woman leaving with a rich man for a night of questionable decisions.

I need to get out of this. NOW.

We stepped outside into the cool evening air. The valet area was lined with expensive cars — sleek sports cars, luxury sedans.

"Wait here," Niklaus said. "I'll have them bring the car around."

He stepped toward the valet stand, pulling out a ticket from his jacket pocket.

This is it. This is your chance. RUN.

But I still couldn't move. My feet were rooted to the spot. What was wrong with me? Why wasn't I running?

Maybe because part of me — a very small, very stupid part was curious about what kind of car a CEO drove and another part of me was still processing the fact that the most handsome man I'd ever seen had just propositioned me.

No. Stop it, Kelsey. This is not the time to be flattered. This is the time to LEAVE.

I was just about to turn and bolt when Niklaus's phone rang.

The sound cut through the night air. He pulled it from his pocket, glanced at the screen, and his entire expression changed. 

He answered immediately. "Yes?"

I couldn't hear what the person on the other end was saying, but I watched Niklaus's face carefully. 

His free hand came up to rub his temple, like he suddenly had a headache.

"Now?" he said into the phone. "It can't wait until…" He stopped, listening. "Fine. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

He hung up and turned back to me.

"I apologize," he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "Something urgent has come up at work. I'm going to have to…"

"It was NOT nice meeting you!" I blurted out before he could finish.

He blinked, clearly surprised by my outburst.

The words tumbled out of my mouth in a rush, like a dam breaking. "I hope you tell your family that you don't want anything to do with me. Like, nothing. Never again. And I'll tell my family the same thing. That we're completely incompatible. That this was a disaster. That we should never see each other again. Ever."

I was rambling. I knew I was rambling. But I couldn't stop.

"So, yeah. Goodbye. Have a nice life. I hope your work emergency goes well or whatever. Bye!"

I turned on my heel, nearly twisting my ankle in these stupid heels and practically ran down the sidewalk.

Behind me, I heard him call out, "Wait…"

But I didn't wait. I just ran as fast as my feet would carry me, my purse bouncing against my hip, my heart racing like I'd just escaped a near-death experience.

Which, in a way, I had.

I rounded the corner and finally stopped, pressing my back against a building wall, gasping for breath. My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking.

What the hell just happened?

I'd gone into that restaurant expecting to scare off some boring rich guy. Instead, I'd met a devastatingly handsome CEO who apparently had zero boundaries and was totally fine with hooking up with a stranger.

I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers and immediately texted Taraji.

Me: EMERGENCY. Coming home NOW. You will not BELIEVE what just happened.

Three dots appeared immediately.

Taraji: OMG did he propose??? 😂

Me: WORSE.

Taraji: How is that worse???

Me: Just have wine ready. Lots of wine.

I shoved my phone back in my purse and started walking toward the nearest subway station, my mind still reeling.

Niklaus Specter. CEO of SpecterTech. 

And he thought I was a pot-smoking, sex-crazed elementary school teacher named Taraji Gilbert.

This was fine. Everything was fine. He'd never see "Taraji" again. And if by some miracle I got hired at SpecterTech, he'd never connect the professional, competent data analyst Kelsey Bellamy with the disaster he'd just had dinner with.

Right?

Right.

I just needed to forget this ever happened.

Except I had a sinking feeling that forgetting Niklaus Specter was going to be impossible.