The Matchmaker's Replacement - Rachel Van Dyken Page 0,34
and a private room, no interruptions.”
“Done.” Dean snapped his fingers above his head as one of his security guards came barreling over. “Please take them to the Diamond Room, no interruptions. Stand outside the door. One waitress goes in and out to provide drinks.”
The security guard nodded.
And five minutes later I was stuck in a personal nightmare. A bottle of champagne rested on ice; two glasses were left on the table. Music pumped through the speaker system. A small stage was set up in the middle of the room, with two poles and some sort of swing that dropped down from the ceiling. I seriously didn’t even want to know what it was for.
“That will be all,” Lex said in a gruff tone. The waitress—I think her name was Holly—bobbed her head, then looked at me out of the corners of her eyes as if scared to leave me alone with the giant.
“It’s fine.” I waved her off and forced a smile.
The door closed.
“Stop pacing.” Lex grabbed a bottle of champagne. “And that ass better give you part of that money . . .”
“Huh?” I turned. Lex had his feet up on the table and was texting. TEXTING!
He glanced up. “What? Something wrong?”
“Uh . . .” I lifted my arms into the air. “You sick bastard, you just paid for private dancing! From me!”
“No I didn’t,” he said calmly. “Nobody knows what goes on in here. Take a nap for all I care, drink some champagne—or you can shock the hell out of me and cry again, but fair warning, I only had one hug in me tonight and you stole it, so . . . I’ll be reverting to the back pat.”
“Who are you?”
“Lex Luthor, philanthropist by day and rescuer of hot waitresses by night.” He smirked and held up the bottle. “Champagne?”
“Unbelievable.” I choked out a laugh. “You just paid over one grand to sit in a crappy club and drink champagne with someone you hate.”
“It’s my good deed for the decade. Just don’t tell Ian. He’ll think I’m sick or something, and the last thing I need is Mother Hen helicoptering around my inner sanctum. He’ll get pissed all over again if he finds out that I’m hacking.”
My skin felt sticky and sweaty, and my feet ached. With slow movements, I made my way over to the couch and sat, not even wanting to know how many germs were on the leather.
“So,” Lex said above the music. “Champagne? Or want me to order you something else?”
“Champagne’s good.” I swallowed and looked down at my hands. “I’m sorry I cried.”
“As you should be. Big girls don’t cry . . . they kick ass. Don’t freak me out like that again, it’s not good for my heart.”
“Finally admitting you have one?”
Lex spread his arms wide. “Clearly, otherwise you’d still be waiting tables.”
“Or dancing,” I muttered.
“Hah.” Lex laughed, actually laughed as if it was funny. “No offense, Gabs, but you’re not like those girls on stage. You can’t . . . You just can’t.”
“I can’t?” Why the hell was I getting offended? “What do you mean I can’t?”
Lex laughed harder. “Gabs, look, there’s nothing wrong with being innocent. Lots of guys dig a girl who has fields that have never been touched, watered, planted, plowed—”
I held up my hand. “I get it.”
“But those types of girls, the good girls, the ones who’ve never been . . .” He smirked. “Conquered? They don’t typically know how to use their bodies in a way that mimics sex on stage. Get it?”
“No.” I crossed my arms. “I don’t get it! Dancing is dancing! A two-year-old can do it!”
“Bad example, bad mental picture all around, Gabs, again solidifying my point. Good girls don’t dance, not like that.” When I didn’t say anything, he added, “Embrace your goodness; don’t get pissed. It’s a compliment.”
“The hell it is!”
“Damn, I love it when you swear,” Lex murmured, taking a long draw of champagne. “See, at least you do that right.”
“I can’t last in here for three hours,” I muttered, jumping to my feet and starting my pacing all over again.
“Want to play games on my cell phone?”
“Like a child!” I blurted. “That’s it! You’re treating me like I’m . . . a toddler! Like I should be thankful you just saved me from hell. Be honest: If you had a sticker and a sucker, would you give them to me if I shut my mouth the entire time?”