Annabelle hadn't wanted to burn the restaurant down initially.
In all honesty, she had been in a good mood. The food smelled great, the weather was perfect, and the boy she had met on Tinder looked like an absolute snack in all his pictures.
But then, he rocked up to the date half an hour late, without an apology. Worse yet, he didn't look anything like his Tinder photos.
In fact, he looked old enough to be her uncle.
Still, she has to admit that, while her date sucks, the food is tasty. Plus, the waiter is also pretty cute.
Besides, when that same waiter offers her a hand in serving some revenge to her catfishing date, Annabelle just can't say no.
Does this charming waiter spell trouble? Possibly.
But, surely, once revenge is served cold, there is always room for dessert, hey?
C O M P L E T E D
"Date me," he spins the whiskey around in the glass and fixes me with a smirk. I roll my eyes the moment the words roll off his tongue.
"Are you really that desperate?" I scoff in response, fighting back the ever prominent blush. His smirk widens as my face flushes red and he leans over the countertop towards me.
I step back.
"Name your price," he replies, his words cool and smooth like ice cream. Only I would reference food at a moment like this. Anger rolls around in the pit of my stomach; I may not have money but I have morals.
"You can't buy people, Grant," The words fall out of my mouth and he recoils as if slapped. I'm glad. Stupid rich boy and his player ways.
"Bet I can," I resist the urge to slap the smug look of his face and scoff again.
"Right," I drag out the word, rolling my eyes. I step away from the counter and turn my back on him, desperate to leave. But he speaks again.
"Date me. Two months. If you fall for me for my money, I win. If I fall for you for who you really are, you win." I consider this for a moment. I have nothing to loose and really not much to gain. But I'm so desperate to put the asshole in his place that I can't resist.
I'm a sucker for a bet.
"Deal."