“Good. How are you doing, beautiful?” he asks as he sits.
My stomach knots in discomfort. He’s flirting with me.
Is this his facade, or does he actually think I’m beautiful?
It’s not that Georgio isn’t attractive. He’s thirty-two with a nice build. His dark hair and olive skin pronounces his Italian background.
No, it’s because a particular Asian hottie has been occupying my mind.
He hasn’t even tried to reach out to me since our date. Maybe I’m being a stupid girl, letting myself feel more than I should. Maybe he doesn’t even like me. Was that his facade?
Mine.
I can still hear his voice in my head.
If I was his, wouldn’t he have reached out by now? Is this a game to him, like Callum suggested?
Bringing myself back to Georgio, I offer a small smile. “I’m well. I apologize, but where are you from again?”
“I’m with the Bernetti family from Vegas. Have you ever been?”
I shake my head. “I’ve never left Chicago. Is it nice out there?”
“Beautiful. I know Vegas gets a bad rap, but it’s not all about gambling and debauchery. The surrounding area is nice as well. The landscape is something to be marveled at.”
“I’m assuming that’s where we would live if you are chosen?”
“Not right inside Vegas. I wouldn’t want you that close to danger. I have a home in Boulder City. You would be much safer there.”
I clear my throat. “What would I do there?”
“You would run the house and raise the children. I understand that can be boring, so I would be happy to allow you a hobby of some sort. What is it you like to do?”
My heart constricts in my chest. That’s all I am worth. Being a wife and mother with a hobby.
“I enjoy reading and photography.” I smile weakly.
“I’ll make sure you have as many books and cameras as you want. You can take the children on outdoor excursions while you take your photos. That would be fun, right?”
The man is being kind, but it’s hard for me to buy into it. A life with him would be a lonely one.
I don’t miss the way he keeps referring to our fictional family as being only myself and our children. He never once claimed he would go with us.
Of course not. He will be too busy handling business. No time for his wife, except to procreate.
I force a smile. “That would be wonderful.”
The server comes back, handing Georgio his drink before setting mine down.
Before I can blink, the drink is spilled across the table, landing in my lap.
I jump, anticipating the heat, but it's only warm. The woman is apologizing profusely as she cleans up.
Then she grabs my arm. “Please let me help you clean up.”
Georgio is standing now too, looking concerned.
“Of course. I’ll be right back,” I tell my date.
