“Where are we meeting them again?” I ask as I walk into my bedroom, sitting down on my bed.
“The hotel where I work,” he says. He’s taken me there before, Windmills, it’s called.
“Why would we be meeting them there?” I ask, frowning. His dark eyes sparkle, and his dimples make an appearance.
“Because my dad owns the hotel.”
I gape. “You never told me that.” Wait, his father owns the whole hotel chain? Great, I’m on my way to meet his millionaire parents. Me. A stripper. Wonderful, just f**king wonderful. I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. I knew he was well off. I mean he does have his own house and a nice car and motorcycle. But I didn’t think he was that rich, or at least that his family was.
“I thought you knew,” he pauses. “Everyone knows.”
“Not me apparently,” I mutter. Not like I talk to many people. Just Grayson and Anaya. And some of the girls at Toxic.
“At least I know you’re not with me for my money,” he jokes. I stand up and swat him on the shoulder.
“Not funny, Gray,” I tell him. “No wonder you knew everyone when we went to the hotel bar. And to think I just thought you were popular.”
He smirks at me. “Nope, not popular. Just the boss’s son.”
“Ha, I doubt that,” I say, putting both my hands on his chest. He encases me in his arms, and I breathe in his delicious scent. Maybe we could stay here in bed instead?
“It will be fine. It’s just dinner,” he says, rubbing his warm hands down my back.
“Is this going to be one of those dinners where there are four different forks, and I’m not going to know which one to use?” I ask grumpily. I feel his body shake with silent laughter. Glad I can be so amusing.
“I’ll let you know which fork to use,” he says, moving back and staring at me with dancing eyes.
I pout. “Fine.”
He smiles wide, holding my chin and lifting my face up. “When we get home, I’ll show you just how much I love that dress on you.”
My heart races. Let’s get this dinner over with.
*****
Do you know what’s awkward? Answering question after question, and each answer you give turning out to be more horrifying than the last.
What do your parents do? Not much because they are dead.
Do you have any other family? Yes.
Do you talk to them? No, not really.
And so the night went on. It turned out there were multiple forks, and Grayson started laughing when I gave him a look that said ‘I told you so’. Grayson’s mother, Laura, is the epitome of sophistication. She has dark hair, cut in a severe bob, light brown eyes, and a soft voice. His father, Derek, looks like an older version of Grayson with dark hair and eyes, and a set of dimples. The only difference being his eyes aren’t playful or amused like Grayson’s usually are; instead, they seem shrewd and slightly calculating.
“Would you like dessert, dear?” Laura asks me.
“No, thank you,” I say with a polite smile. Grayson glances at me and frowns. He knows I love dessert, and I’m not usually one to turn it down. However, I’d rather this dinner end as soon as possible. They have been nothing but kind to me, but with the questioning and looks in their eyes, I can tell they would rather their son be with someone else. I don’t know if it’s for the fact I obviously don’t have any money or what, but I don’t think I’ll be bonding with them any time soon. Grayson sits next to me, his arm rested casually on the back of my chair. He’s been sweet and attentive all night, even telling his parents to stop with the questions. I appreciated that—a lot.
“Do you want to go, babe?” Grayson asks, softly so only I can hear.
“Do you?” I ask, not wanting to be rude and leave if he wanted to stay. He kisses me and then stands up.
“We have to go. We have classes in the morning. But thanks for dinner,” he says casually, putting out his hand to me. I take it and stand up, thanking both his parents and telling them it was nice to meet them.
“Are you okay?” he asks me as he opens the car’s passenger side door.
“Fine. Why?” I ask.
He leans on the car door, watching me silently. “You were perfect,” is all he says. He closes the door and walks over to the driver’s side. Perfect? I felt awkward as hell.
“Are you staying at mine tonight?” he asks as we pull onto the main road.
“No, can you take me home?” I ask.
“Why?” he asks, his lips turning into a frown.
“I have work tonight,” I tell him. I start in two hours. It’s my second to last shift, and then I’m free. No longer a Toxic Girl. No longer Snow. Just plain old Paris. And I couldn’t be more thrilled.
Grayson sighs. “I hate you working late. I can just imagine all the men hitting on you.”
He has no idea. “This is my second to last shift, remember,” I tell him.
“Good. You know I can help you if you need…”
“Grayson,” I snap, not wanting to hear his offer. He’s mentioned it once before, and there is no way in hell I will become a kept woman.
“Yeah, okay,” he mumbles, sulking.
“I thought you wanted to show me how much you loved this dress?” I ask in a sultry, suggestive voice.
“Fuck,” he says under his breath, glancing at me before tightening his fists on the steering wheel.