Chapter 5 Revised

Then Anita stared at the message window.

Nothing happened.

Ten seconds.

Thirty.

A minute.

Anita shifted.

Two minutes.

“Okay. I scared him.”

Three minutes.

“He's probably deleting his account.”

Five.

Anita knew she was being ridiculous.

People had lives.

He could be working.

Driving.

Cooking.

Taking a shower.

Escaping the country because a strange woman online had just delivered her medical history in paragraph form.

That last possibility felt increasingly likely.

Finally, the notification chimed.

Anita opened it immediately.

Andrew: It's not my place to judge you, especially when we've only just met online.

Her shoulders relaxed.

I've already read your profile, Anita. I like what I've seen so far.

Then:

I've granted you access to my private pictures.

And finally:

My name is Andrew. I'm a Dom full-time. But I promise I don't bite.

Anita stared at the message.

A grin slowly spread across her face.

Her fingers flew over the keyboard.

Anita: Thank you for the picture access, Andrew.

She paused.

Anita should stop there.

That would be normal.

Polite.

Respectable.

Her fingers moved again.

And I never said I was opposed to a little biting.

She sent it.

Then stared at the screen.

“Anita.”

Too late.

The notification sounded almost immediately.

This time, instead of another message, a button appeared granting her access to Andrew's private gallery.

Anita sat up straighter.

“All right.”

She clicked.

The first photograph loaded.

Anita stopped moving.

“Well.”

Andrew was handsome.

Very handsome.

He appeared to be somewhere in his thirties, with a strong build and the kind of presence that somehow came through even in a photograph.

He was white.

That wasn't an issue for Anita. She had simply never dated a white man before.

“So we're apparently expanding horizons in every possible direction,” she muttered.

She scrolled.

The next photographs showed Andrew posing shirtless in fitted black leather pants.

Anita's eyebrows rose.

The leather contrasted sharply against his skin, emphasizing the definition in his body.

Whoever had taken the photographs certainly understood lighting.

And angles.

Very, very good angles.

Anita leaned closer to the screen.

Then immediately leaned back.

“Nope. We're going to act civilized.”

She lasted perhaps five seconds before scrolling again.

A question occurred to her.

Who had taken these?

The photographs were far too carefully staged to be random selfies.

What Anita couldn't possibly know was that Andrew hadn't created the profile completely on his own initiative.

People in his life had grown tired of watching their notoriously work-obsessed boss behave as though romance were an unnecessary administrative expense.

They wanted him to meet someone.

Some of them had considerably more complicated reasons for wanting Andrew to settle down.

Reasons involving family.

Legacy.

And, eventually, an heir.

Andrew had mostly agreed to the photographs to make them stop bothering him.

He had not expected anything interesting to come from the account.

Then Anita messaged him.

Another notification appeared.

Andrew: Do you like what you see?

Anita smiled.

Confident man.

Anita: Yes. You're quite handsome.

His response came quickly.

Andrew: I'd like to meet you in person.

Anita's smile vanished.

Well.

That escalated.

She continued reading.

Do you have any free time this week?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Talking online was one thing.

Meeting a stranger was something entirely different.

Especially a stranger she had met on a BDSM dating site less than an hour ago.

Every reasonable part of her brain immediately began producing warnings.

Public place.

Tell somebody where you're going.

Drive yourself.

Do not let him change the location at the last minute.

Do not go home with him because he has nice shoulders.

That last rule felt oddly specific.

Anita frowned.

Still...

Wasn't this what she wanted?

Change?

Something outside her bedroom?

A reason to put on real clothes and remember that a world existed beyond hospitals, physical therapy, grief, and her parents worrying about her?

Maybe Andrew would become important.

Maybe he wouldn't.

Maybe they would have one dinner, discover they were completely incompatible, and never speak again.

But at least she would have gone.

Anita typed.

Anita: I'm free. Do you work? If so, we could meet on your day off.

She smiled after sending it.

Smooth.

Very smooth.

Yes, she wanted to know his schedule.

She also wanted confirmation that the man possessed employment.

Her last relationship had permanently cured her of any desire to financially support a perfectly capable grown man.

That didn't make her a gold digger.

Quite the opposite.

Anita had her own money.

Years as a surgeon had allowed her to build a healthy savings account, and she had always been careful with her finances.

Even without immediately returning to work, she could live comfortably for some time if she watched her spending.

She didn't need a wealthy man.

She simply needed a man who could take care of himself.

There was a difference.

Andrew's response appeared.

Andrew: I'm off Sunday. Are you available then?

Good.

Employed.

One box checked.