Highest Bidder Collection - Lauren Landish Page 0,294

feel like everyone knows I don’t belong here. That I’m a worthless fraud.

“Remember to play your role,” Zander says under his breath. “Act like you know me and not like you’re a scared little doe lost in the woods.” He whispers the words, but there’s a playful smile still on his lips. His words have an immediate effect on me, and without even thinking, I gently place my hand on his stomach, feeling the hard ridges of his abs beneath his silk dress shirt.

“That’s better,” he says quietly.

I feel awkward as shit doing it, but I still like it.

We’re led to a plush booth at the back of the restaurant. We pass what has to be a VIP section since the tables are more intimate, with lower lighting. I try not to look their way as Zander helps me into the booth before taking his seat.

“What will you have to drink?” the waiter asks while dropping menus in front of us and finishing up what felt like a speech about the fish of the day and something else. I can’t concentrate on what he’s saying with how fast my heart is beating.

“A white Zinfandel and I’ll have a whiskey sour,” Zander replies, not even bothering to ask me what I want.

“Of course, Mr. Payne.” The waiter nods his head and walks off.

When he’s gone, Zander focuses his eyes on me, the intensity of his gaze causing goosebumps to run down my arms. “You look beautiful.”

My lips part with surprise as my cheeks flush. They’re simple words, but they mean so much when they sound genuine.

“Thank you,” I say softly when I can finally manage, lowering my lashes.

“You’re welcome,” Zander says, giving me that intense look that makes my skin prick.

For a moment, I get lost in his piercing blue eyes, wanting - no, wishing - that this was something more than what it really is.

“Why are we doing this again?” I blurt out suddenly. I bite my tongue after I say it. I wish I could take the words back, I only need to get the money and forget about all of this.

Zander arches an eyebrow. “Doing what?”

I gesture between us. “This... pretending...” I shift slightly in my seat, feeling so damn uncomfortable. “I just don’t understand.”

For the first time this night, Zander frowns and it makes me regret my outburst. “I already told you why,” he says, keeping his voice low. “I don’t want a Slave. It doesn’t appeal to me.”

And playing make-believe does? I want to ask. It’s hard to believe a man like Zander not having needs. Sexual needs that revolve around power and domination. The thought brings a heat to my core, and I have to sit back in my seat, grabbing the napkin and delicately placing it over my lap.

“I’d rather get to know you first before having you crawl to me on your hands and knees,” Zander says quietly.

His words have a clear effect on my body. I’d happily crawl to him. He must see the flicker of lust in my eyes, and the same is reflected in his. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Right then the waiter returns with our drinks, saving me from responding. He sets a sparkling wine glass down in front of me and a mixed drink down in front of Zander.

“Are you ready to order, sir?” the waiter asks.

Zander nods. “A medium rare steak with crab cakes for me, and the stuffed lobster for my sweetheart.” He says it again. Sweetheart. And a blush grows on my cheeks, heating my face and making me fiddle with the napkin to soothe my nerves.

“Wonderful selections, sir,” the waiter says as he scribbles down the order and leaves us.

“What if I was allergic to seafood?” I have to inquire when he’s gone.

Zander shakes his head. “I know you aren’t. I want to appear that I know exactly what you want, like I’ve known you for some time. Remember, we’re playing a role.” He grins. “Besides, I know you’ll love what I ordered for you. Promise.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I say softly, flashing a fake smile as I take in his admission that he knew I wasn’t allergic.

“Smart girl.” Zander grins as if pleased by my behavior. He takes a sip of his drink, his penetrating eyes glued to my face. He keeps them on me, literally making me squirm in my seat before asking, “Tell me, what do you do in your free time?”

I hesitate for a moment, glancing down into