If I Told You by Jennifer Domenico Page B

his hand. “You seem sad.”
    “No.” He shakes his head. “I love my life. It’s perfect actually. I can do what I want, date who I want, eat where I want. I have a beautiful apartment and the sexiest woman in the city eating dinner with me. I’m good.”
    “But you want that other stuff? Marriage and kids?”
    He gazes down at the bread basket, then picks up a breadstick. “Honestly, I can’t imagine it. I guess on some level, someday, I’d like a kid. I’d like to believe there’s a woman out there that would make me want to be with just her forever.” He smiles. “But I don’t think there is. Not when I can have any one I want.”
    “I’m sure you get a lot of offers.”
    “Yeah. Even married women.” He sips his wine. “It’s good to be me.”
    I nod, sipping my wine. I don’t believe his stories of being satisfied. There’s too much underlying sadness. I don’t believe him at all. I don’t care though. As long as it’s not me he plans to tie down. I learned from my mother’s disastrous love life that placing all your hopes and needs in one man is the dumbest thing you can do. Once he knows he has control, you don’t matter anymore. Letting a man dictate how I live my life? No way.
    Looking across the table at Rhys, I smile and sip my wine. Never gonna happen.

 

    Grabbing her arm, I drag Melissa to my office and shut the door, locking it behind us. Quickly, I unbutton my pants and pull my dick out. Without a word, Melissa drops to her knees and starts working on me. Leaning back against my desk, I close my eyes and imagine Brooklyn’s mouth instead as I bury my hands in Melissa’s hair. It feels good, and I only feel slightly guilty using her like this, but this is what I do.
    “Oh fuck, yeah,” I grunt a few minutes later as I release my load in Mel’s mouth. I watch as she milks every drop, swallowing it all. She looks up at me, smiling and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She plants a kiss on the head of my dick then stands up. “Thank you.”
    “My pleasure,” she says. “Truly. I’ve wanted to do that since the minute I met you.”
    I nod. “I can’t give you more than that.”
    “I know. I don’t expect more.” She pats my chest. “But if you ever want me to do it again, just say the word. I’m yours to use however you want.”
    “You deserve better than that, Mel. You’re a sweet girl.”
    “Obviously, Chef, I’m not that sweet.” She turns and walks out of my office, leaving me alone to reflect on what I just allowed to happen. I shake my head to snap out of it. I have a job to do.
    Back in the kitchen, I inspect the grilled salmon Tim prepared, making sure it meets my standards. “Where’s the gratin?”
    “Coming, Chef,” Louise says, carrying a sauté pan over to me. I watch as she carefully arranges the mushroom and potato mixture around the fish.
    “Beautiful. Sauce?” Tim returns, drizzling the glaze around the entire meal. “Perfect.”
    Tony, their server for the night, waits while I inspect the plates. I nod, and he lifts both plates, carrying them out to Rhys and Brooklyn. From my vantage point, I can see him nuzzling her neck and it makes my blood boil, even though I have no fucking right to be jealous after what I just did. When Brooklyn looks up at Tony, her cheeks are flushed and I’m dying to know why, but I know I can’t stand to hear the details. I saw what he did to her last time. I walk out to describe the dish.
    “Ah, Chef,” Rhys says when he sees me. “What is this delightful sauce on the fish?”
    “It’s a lemon prosecco glaze,” I say. “You also have a potato and porcini mushroom gratin. The earthiness of the mushrooms balances the rich fattiness of the fish. Enjoy.”
    Rhys leans forward inhaling the aroma of his dish. “Smells incredible. Doesn’t it, Brooklyn?”
    “It does,” she says. “Everything Flynn makes does though.”
    “What a treat to be able to eat his food on a regular basis,” Rhys