“I took you out as a favor,” he tells her with a wave of his hand. “Your cousin works for me. He said you’ve been trying to move on from just being an Instagram model to walking for fashion week. He knew if you were seen with me that it would help boost your career. So I agreed because now he’ll have no choice but to owe me one. I’ll be cashing in that favor quite soon, actually.”
Her teeth clench. “You’re a son of a bitch, Knight. You know that?”
He takes a gulp of wine and shrugs easily. “Now that you were photographed here with me, your career will spike, more connections will open up. You should be kissing my shoes.”
I wince. “Now you’ve really done it,” I say, hopping to my feet and heading over to him. My hand passes through his arm when I try to touch him, but that’s okay. All I need to do is use some cupid mojo on him, and then maybe I can turn this date around.
After all, I know they’re attracted to each other. My cupid senses tell me that much at least. But he always does this—always seems to purposely run his dates into the ground until it’s just a fiery crater of I shoulda swiped left.
I just don’t get it. I know he desires women, so I don’t understand why he does this.
“This is why you need a cupid,” I tell him seriously as I lean in. “You’re clearly just incapable of plugging your asshole long enough to squelch out anything other than rude shit.”
I take a determined, deep breath. “Okay. I can handle this. I’m just gonna fix this whole thing right now before you ruin date number fourteen, okay? Okay,” I say, giving myself a much needed pep talk.
With as much concentration as I can muster, I look him in the eye and then blow out a huge exhale of Lust Breath right into his stupidly handsome face. There’s nothing like a dose of desire to really get things turned around.
But instead of the perfect pink mist that’s supposed to come out of my mouth, I get a plume of watered-down pea soup smoke that has no Lust in it whatsoever. Nothing. Nada. Zip. It kinda just plops onto the table and slinks away like a slimy slug.
“Dammit!” I yell, pulling back. I try to stomp the ground in frustration, but instead, my foot just disappears into the floor all the way up to my ankle. I can’t even throw an acceptable hissy fit.
Knight’s date gets to her feet, tossing her napkin down. She walks around the table, her eyes glittering with contempt, and then leans in close so that their faces are right beside one another as she digs her phone out of her purse. “Well then, since this is all I’m getting out of a famous Warren Knight date, I might as well use my cousin’s favor to my full advantage, wouldn’t you agree?” she asks with a sneer.
His dark eyes flick to hers, somehow looking more bored than before, despite the enraged woman all up in his face space. “You’d be a stupid woman if you didn’t.”
I groan. And the asshole just keeps on leaking.
Her eyes tighten, but then she lets a huge, beautiful smile come out. Holding her phone in front of them, she turns her face. “Smile for the camera, Knight. Make all my followers believe you actually have a soul.”
I snort. “Good one, girl.”
Knight doesn’t smile of course, but he looks really hot anyway. All settled back in his high-backed chair, looking that perfect mixture of sharp and tousled. She snaps the photograph, and as soon as it’s done, she leans away and stuffs her phone into her purse. “I had a terrible time,” she tells him.
“Likewise,” he answers.
I facepalm. “Man, you’re the literal worst. Don’t you wanna get laid? I want you to get laid!” I tell him.
It’s true. I really do. Because like I said, I’ve seen this guy naked, and he is delicious. But so far, it’s been a no-go. He takes all these beautiful women out, but then he acts like such an ass that most of them don’t make it through dessert. Oddly, he seems relieved about that every single time.
Like right now. His date has barely made it to the exit of the restaurant, and already he’s grinning at the waitress and ordering the Mont Blanc chocolate pavlova, whatever that