Blackstone Inc. (Book 2)

Part 7

I knew I should follow Katherine's advice and dress in something sexy, so I decided that the spaghetti strapped black lace bodysuit that I paired with a high-waisted,mid-thigh leather skirt and black heels were 'sexy' enough.

I darkened my makeup with a smokey eye, mascara, and dark red lipstick and left my hair down in its current lions' mane.

At 8:20 I heard a knock on the door, signaling that Preston was here. When I opened the door I took my time drinking in his appearance. It was like he got better looking every time I saw him. His hair was slightly more disheveled but in that I-messed-up-my-hair-on-purpose look, and the navy suit he wore really made his amber eyes shine.

"Good evening, Mr. Blackstone," I purred as I watched his eyes roam my body.

When his eyes met mine he closed his parted lips, "You look..."

"Yes?"

His eyes looked back down at my body, "Well, you know you're a good looking woman. You will be the talk of the tabloids tomorrow."

I blushed, "You mean we will be?"

He smirked, "Precisely."

I closed the door and locked it and deposited my keys into my purse, "Ready to go?"

He nodded once before leading the way out of the building and to his car.

***

When Katherine said she would make sure the paparazzi were here, she wasn't lying.

As the valet opened my door there were cameras in my face with the flashes almost blinding me. They were speaking so loud, asking questions like 'Who are you?' 'Are you two a couple?' until I felt an arm around my waist, guiding me into the restaurant.

"Jesus," I whispered once the doors were closed on them.

"Sorry, about that," he murmured as we walked up to the podium, his arm still around my waist.

The hostess took one look at Preston and her eyes went glossy. She smiled dreamily, "Good evening, Mr. Blackstone. What a pleasure it is to see you again, Sir. Is it just the two of you?"

"Yes," he smirked, clearly knowing the effect he had on the young girl.

She guided us to a booth and placed our menus in front of us, "Your server will be with you shortly. Have a wonderful night, Mr. Blackstone."

"Thank you, sweetheart," he said in a low voice and the look she gave him--you'd think he was a God.

When she walked away I chuckled causing him to look at me, "What's so funny, Flower?"

I narrowed my eyes, "Do you purposefully flaunt your sex appeal, Sir?"

He smirked at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I have sex appeal? I wasn't sure I did. I usually save that for Dominic."

I thought for a moment, "While you two are very similar, he's much more...barbarian than you are, and I only mean that in the nicest way."

He faked shock, "Are you saying he's more built than I am, Daisy? Has he caught your eye, as well? I'd be obligated to let you know that he's quite spoken for."

I blushed, "No, Sir. He hasn't caught my eye and I am very aware that he is spoken for. I was only meaning that..."

The smirk was back, "Meaning what, Daisy? Let the Lioness out."

I looked into his eyes again and took in a deep breath, "You have major sex appeal, Preston. You are a very gorgeous man and I am lucky to be here with you, and while Dominic is stockier than you, you are still 'built'. That much is shown on your GQ cover."

The server arrived then, asking what we were drinking. Preston answered for me, another glass of red wine and bourbon for himself.

When the waiter left and his eyes returned to mine they were gleaming with pride, "You saw that?"

"Saw what?"

"My GQ cover," he stated as he opened his menu.

I felt my cheeks burn, "Truthfully, Sir? I am a fan of yours so of course, I saw it."

He smirked again and clasped his hands over the table, "Oh? Is it stapled to your bedroom wall? Is that what helps you take care of your...aches?"

My jaw hit the floor and my cheeks were on fire, "That's a highly inappropriate question, Preston."

He chuckled, "I am your boyfriend, Flower. I'm allowed to ask these 'inappropriate questions'."

I looked down at my menu then, not really seeing it, though, "You are my fake boyfriend, Preston. That doesn't give you rights. And I'll have you know," I raised my eyes to his, "That no, it isn't stapled to my wall, it's in the drawer beside my toys."

I felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins at the admission when the waiter arrived with our drinks, asking if we were ready to order. I requested the special and he got a steak.

I watched Preston take a drink after the waiter left, his eyes on me, "You get off to me?"

"I was only trying to get a rise out of you, Sir," I said quietly, taking a sip of my wine, my cheeks still heated.

He hummed, "Somehow I don't believe that to be true. It's okay if you do, though. If you were in the media I would probably use you as my muse as well."

I snorted, "I find that hard to believe."

His brows furrowed, "And why's that?"

I took another sip, watching his eyes follow my tongue as it licked my bottom lip when I set my glass down, "I'm not your type, Sir."

I saw the small smirk form at the corners of his lips, "Oh, and what is my type?"

I looked out at the other guests in the restaurant, some looking at us, some enjoying their dinners, before I looked back at him, "Not me. I've never seen you with a natural redhead; curly hair, freckles, pale skin. And you like your woman to be well known, models, actresses, those who already are known."

"Publicity," he stated in a low voice.

I snorted again, "So, you're telling me that you didn't sleep with them?"

His face was set in a full-blown smirk now, "Are you getting jealous, Lioness?"

I rolled my eyes, "Yes, because every woman wants to talk about her boyfriends, fake or not, conquests on their first date, Sir. It's making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Care to tell me how long it took you to bust as well?"

His jaw clenched, "Daisy, there's nothing to be jealous about. Some I slept with, yes, but, no, I didn't sleep with all of them, contrary to popular belief. I like to get to know the women I sleep with, regardless of my reputation. And," he put his forefinger under my chin and lifted, making my eyes meet his, "You are my type. My greatest fantasy."

I let out a nervous chuckle. I was his greatest fantasy? No, that can't be. He's only saying that to get into my pants.

"You're lying," I narrowed my eyes at him.

He grabbed a strand of my hair and tugged like he had done last night, "I'm not. I don't lie. It's something you'll learn about me."

I suddenly wished I was on his side of the booth. I wished he would put his fingers in my hair like last night and pull me toward him. I wished he would kiss the life out of me. I wished he would use me...

"What are you thinking about, Flower," his fingers twisting the strand, his eyes on mine.

Not you.

"What the headlines will be tomorrow."

He smirked, "Probably something like, 'Has the Blackstone Bachelor finally found someone out of his league, and who is the mysterious redheaded beauty?'"

I groaned, but smiled, "Oh, God."