Taken by You (Taken by You Book One) (5 page)

“
Goodbye, Penny,” Nicolette said, closing the door in my face.

“
What a bitch,” I whispered under my breath.

I went outside and saw Gustav, who was smiling, and he opened the door for me and helped me inside. I kept my legs closed, as the dress Nicolette bought was short enough to give
everyone
a free show. God, I hoped nobody on the street had a camera phone when I showed up. Shit,
every
phone had a camera these days.

The town car Blake sent for me traveled with ease through the busy nighttime San Francisco streets, as Gustav was a master in the art of driving. He didn’t say a word to me, leaving me to fester in a stew of anxious thoughts as I ran over my plea for the internship over and over again in my head. I’d talk about my charity work, my coding skills, and most importantly, my love of helping lonely singles and coeds hook up. I knew plenty of people on campus who used the app and had found meaningful relationships, and a few STDs.

We soon arrived at the restaurant and Gustav pulled up to the door, where there was a red carpet covered by a red awning with some white cursive font on it. He put the car in park and got out, running around to the sidewalk and opening my door for me. He grabbed my hand gently and helped me out as I made sure to keep my legs as close together as they could go.

“
I will be waiting for your departure later this evening. I hope you have a marvelous night, Ms. Wells,” Gustav said, smiling.

“
Thank you,” I replied, smiling back.

I walked up to the door where a man in a white dress shirt and black vest was waiting to hold it open for me. I walked inside, brushing my hair to the side, before I came up to two women who were standing in front of the hostess stand and smiling from ear to ear.

There was light music playing in the background of the dimly lit restaurant, but no clanking of dishes or chatter amongst the other patrons. With my eyes adjusting I looked around, seeing nobody in sight eating or otherwise loitering around. This place was an up-and-coming hotspot in the Tenderloin District. How could there be nobody else here?

“
If you’d follow me, I will be happy to escort you to your table,” one of the women said with a smile.

“
Thank you,” I replied.

She began to walk and I followed as we made our way through the labyrinth of tables and chairs. I could hear a violin playing as we walked back to a secluded area of the restaurant filled with enclosed booths that even had curtains to mask the party inside if the patrons should so please.

“
Hello, Penelope. I’ve been expecting you,” Blake said.

CHAPTER FOUR

Penelope

Blake, in a fitted black suit that had an almost graphite-like appearance, stood up and greeted me with a smile and a handshake. It was quite a formal introduction, which was good, I thought.

“
Sorry I’m a little late. The traffic was horrible,” I said, before the hostess walked away.

“
It’s quite all right. I was just enjoying the music. It’s nice and quiet in here so you can really here the notes being played,” Blake said, as we both sat down.

The menus were already in front of us on the table, their black leather wraps accented with gold letters. This looked like the kind of place that didn’t put prices on the menu, and it had a really crisp, small font that you needed a magnifying glass to read. I had never been to a place like this before, but I had seen plenty of them on TV.

“
It’s strange that nobody else is in here. I heard on the radio like two weeks ago that this place is always packed and even their food critic was told he’d have to wait a month before getting in,” I said, opening the menu.

“
Yes, well, when you have the connections I have it’s quite easy to get whatever you want and need,” he said.

“
You’re the reason it’s empty?” I asked.

“
I only wanted the best for your interview. Besides, how would we
really
get to know one another with a bunch of people running around and interrupting us?” Blake asked.

I smiled at him before looking back down at my menu and trying to make sense of the names and ingredients. Truffle oil, foie gras, pâté, and headcheese? Where were the fries, burgers, and pasta dishes? It was like I was in a completely different world. Hell, as I looked around, I was in a completely different world.

Our waitress, Karina, came by and introduced herself before offering us a wine list.

“
I’m not a big drinker,” I said.

“
Nonsense. Do you happen to have anything from 1947?” Blake asked.

“
Yes, we do, sir. A beautiful red from the south of France, if you’re interested,” Karina said.

“
Sounds excellent. We’ll take the bottle,” Blake said.

“
Just to let you know, sir, that bottle costs—”

“
I said we’d take the bottle,” Blake said sternly.

“
Yes, sir,” Karina said, bowing her head a little and briskly walking off.

“
I want you to at least have a taste, Penelope. It’s too marvelous of a year to not at least have a taste,” Blake said.

“
Well, I suppose I could do that,” I said.

“
Feeling the sweet, sugary nectar of decades past roll across your tongue and down your throat is an absolute marvel of the senses that should be experienced at least once in a lifetime. To do without would be, well, a sheer tragedy of the truest kind,” Blake said.

“
You sure do have a way with words,” I said.

“
Just wait until later,” Blake said, before sipping from his glass of ice water.

The evening wore on and I became more and more comfortable with Blake as the minutes passed. I thought he tried to play himself off as some kind of hardass who didn’t settle for anything less than what he wanted, but I could see something else deep down.

We hadn’t talked about work much, or the internship, and even though I really wanted it, I couldn’t say that I was all too disappointed. I had finally gotten out of the apartment, and not just with anyone, but an attractive, intelligent, and wildly sexy billionaire. I still wasn’t sure if I were dreaming or actually living through this, but either way I liked it.

“
So, I suppose for me to be able to write off this dinner I should ask you about the internship. Tell me, what is your hope for this position?” Blake asked.

“
Well, I would say my biggest hope is to build a foundation for after graduation. I’m a coder, as my resume said, and I want to not only better myself, but also the company I work for. I guess my end goal is like any other college graduate’s, and that’s to find a company I can stay with for a long time after graduation,” I said.

“
It’s weird to me that you’re a coder,” Blake said, with an inquisitive tone.

“
Because I’m a girl? I get that a lot,” I said, smiling.

“
No. Because you’re beautiful,” he said.

My stomach sank as I continued to push my food around on my plate with the gold fork I was given. Did I remember to clean my ears this morning when I got out of the shower? I must not have, because I
thought
I just heard Blake say I was beautiful.

“
Thank you,” I said, as I looked up at him. “That’s a very nice thing to say.”

“
I don’t just say things, Penelope. I mean them.”

I smiled, though I tried to hold it back, as I bit my bottom lip a little and felt my cheeks getting warm. I tried to mask it by putting some food in my mouth, but I was sure he’d seen it and knew what kind of effect he was having on me. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that glass of wine.
This
was why I wasn’t a drinker.

“
Tell me, Penelope, do you like literature?” Blake asked.

“
Yeah, I do,” I said, perking up. “Back home reading was all I really did, well, aside from coding and sitting on the computer.”

“
I have a rather extensive collection of ancient and classic literature back at my apartment. It was actually featured recently in a magazine. I don’t show it to many people in person because of its intrinsic value, but I’d be willing to show you,” Blake said.

“
I shouldn’t. I should probably get home,” I said.

“
Oh, come now. I don’t live that far away and besides, my driver will take you home whenever you’d like, so it isn’t like you have to drive or sit on the bus. I promise you won’t regret it,” Blake said, smiling.

I sat there with my hands in my lap as I fiddled with the white linen napkin and ran through a thousand possibilities and scenarios in my head all at once. Maybe he was just being a genuinely nice guy and wanted to connect on a hobby. Maybe he wanted to show off how expensive his collection was. Maybe he wanted to get me in bed. Maybe, just maybe, and I was just throwing this out there, he was a sociopathic killer who wanted to cut me up into little pieces and feed me to the squirrels in the park. Even though all of those were valid, there was a part of me that still wanted to see not only his collection, but also his apartment. What exactly did a billionaire have? I was curious enough to possibly find out.

“
I guess that sounds fair enough. I’ll come by, but I shouldn’t stay long. I don’t want my roommate to worry,” I said convincingly.

“
Excellent. I think you’ll enjoy everything you see there,” Blake said.

Blake paid the check with a black credit card that almost brought envy to the waitress’s eyes. I took another sip of my wine, the rest of the glass, and felt it slide smoothly down my throat before I took a breath and felt the sting of the alcohol on my tongue against the crisp air.

“
Here you are, sir. Thank you for dining with us tonight and we hope to see you two again soon,” our waitress said with a smile, before seeing herself out.

“
My car should’ve been brought around front by now. Shall we go?” Blake asked, as he checked his watch.

“
Yes, please,” I said, getting out of the booth.

My heels clacked against the wooden floor. The staff was waiting at the front to open the doors for us and say goodbye. I wasn’t sure if they were smiling because they liked us, or because they were happy they got paid to only wait on us. It must’ve been a fairly slow workday for them.

As we walked outside, the sting of the night air wrapped around my body and I shivered. With the hairs on my arm standing up, Blake looked at me, as he must’ve seen me struggling.

“
Here,” he said, taking off his blazer.

“
Oh, you don’t have to—”

“
I want to. Besides, I feel fine,” he said, opening my door for me.

His car, a shiny black Italian supercar, had curves in all of the right places. The inside, wrapped in jet black leather with red stitching, had the faintest scent of wealth as I felt the backs of my thighs against what felt like velvet. This sure beat Nicolette’s car clear out of the water.

Blake got in and locked himself into the racing-style chair before shifting it into drive and taking off like a bat out of hell. With only his left hand on the wheel he zipped through the streets as the car performed every command he gave it.

We didn’t say much during the drive, as his focus seemed to be solely on driving. There was no music, not even the faintest hint of a favorite Internet radio station, and all I did was look out of the tinted windows as each person we passed looked on with envious eyes.

After about fifteen minutes, mostly due to traffic, we arrived at a large building that had an underground parking garage. It must’ve been at most eight or nine stories, but it was wide and had an almost affluent look and design that definitely didn’t fit in with the buildings around it.

Blake pressed a button and the hulking metal door opened, and we slowly drove through it, before he triggered it to quickly close behind us. There were other cars here, though not many spaces open, if any. The floors weren’t concrete, but a white epoxy-style finish with gold flakes speckled throughout.