Bad Boy Ink (Get Ink'd #5) - Ali Lyda Page 0,16

stand the sight of me? How were we supposed to get along when all my usual tricks fell flat—or worse, backfired.

I always tried to see the best in the situation and then a person. But with Aiden, I couldn't help but feel like it was hopeless.

6

Aiden

It was Friday night, and I would rather have been anywhere but where I was: a ritzy restaurant downtown that specialized in gastronomy. The kind that serves twelve different courses of very tiny plates. We were only on the third plate and I already wanted to blow my brains out.

Across from me was my latest sugar daddy, James. James worked in finance and did day trading on the side. His suit was tailored silk, his shoes were Italian leather, and his wrist bore a heavy and expensive Rolex. James should have been on the radio or something because good God, he could talk. In fact, I was fairly certain that I hadn't spoken more than ten words since he picked me up over two hours ago.

I should have said no to the date. If I had said no, I could be at home now, lying out on the bed with a stack of comic books and a cup of hot chocolate. Instead, I was eating tedious food with even more tedious company.

What was it about wealth that seemed to change a man? Why was it that the wealthy men who took him on dates seemed to think their money gave them the right to be a jerk?

Though, to be fair, it wasn't just men who fell prey to the trappings of wealth. My mother had been a proper bitch for most of the time when I was growing up. She was too caught up in the lunches and spa treatments and fashion and “charity” work to pay attention to me. Or defend me when my father got on my case.

The waiter came running over to take our orders for dessert. I guess when you have to spend forty minutes preparing the tiny ass portions that are on the plate like a heap of art instead of food, you need to put in your order early. We still had many courses before dessert and all I wanted was for him to bring the check.

Before I could ask for what I wanted, which was the chocolate mousse, James ordered for me: “He'd like the crème brûlée.”

“Very good, sir.” The waiter walked away before I could counter with what I really wanted.

And that kind of shit pissed me off more than anything else. As if it wasn't enough to rub it in my face that you had money by taking me to this kind of pompous restaurant. On top of it, you didn't even allow me an opinion about the food that I was going to eat.

Fucker.

“You wouldn't believe the trade I managed today,” James was saying. As if I cared. “I really pulled the wool over these guys’ eyes...”

Quickly, I allowed myself to zone out. I wondered if James was ever going to get around to asking me about me. I doubted it. Men like him didn't care about their boy toys’ lives, opinions, or just about anything else. Men like James were more interested in having a live-action doll they could show off and boss around than having a boyfriend.

It occurred to me that maybe it wasn't worth it to even stick out the date. I was making money at the tech store now, and my expenses were low, considering I spent most of my time in school or studying. I...I didn’t need to be at this dinner. I’d said yes out of reflex, out of the long-used excuse that more money in my account was better, no matter how it got there.

Which was becoming too like my father’s rationale for comfort.

I kept my eyes locked on James and nodded in time with his boring diatribe while pulling my phone out underneath the tablecloth. I managed to unlock it and slide it where I could peek in my peripheral vision and send Bryan an SOS text.

Help. Trapped by a rich asshole. Need emergency call, please.

To my delight and surprise, my phone rang almost immediately. I made sure to look concerned as I glanced at the caller ID. “I'm sorry, James, this one is important, do you mind?”

The scowl on James's face said that he very much minded but he wasn't going to say so on a first date.

I stood from the table and walked a little