Mister West by R.J. Lewis (animal farm read .TXT) 📕

He smiles back as he opens the wine bottle and starts pouring it into our glasses. “Not yet.”

I can see why immediately after I’ve opened a few containers. The food smells divine. I feel bad for Aidan’s chef because she obviously can’t be certain what he’s in the mood for, so she has an assortment of meals. Chicken breast, some cut up steak, salad, mashed potato. The list goes on. There’s even hummus, and I can’t help but lick my lips.

Oh, to have a chef. I muse.

Aidan watches me, looking amused as I start to dish out some of the food on my plate with the fork he’s given me. I’m being dainty. I put on tiny amounts because I don’t want to just raid his food and, admittedly, because it’s poor manners. When it’s Aidan’s turn, he shovels giant mountains of food…onto my plate. My eyes widen. My lips spread into a giant grin. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“Don’t eat like a bird,” he answers, turning his attention now to his plate. “Can’t stand that shit.”

“What shit?”

“Every woman I’ve dined with has to eat like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like they’re ten pounds. I want you fed and full.”

My face warms at his attentiveness. “I’m just trying to be a lady with manners, Mr West.”

His body stills for a beat. It seems to affect him when I call him by his last name. I like it. Regardless, he lets out a loud laugh, raising his brows now. “Who are you fooling?”

I laugh.

This beautiful man is so close I can touch him, but my stomach is growling now and I’m too busy staring at the food. I eat, all etiquette lost. Ana would be so disgusted by me right now. I haven’t eaten since lunch, though. I’m starving now that I've calmed down and the wine is making my head swim.

“This is so good,” I groan. “Like, insanely good.”

He chuckles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I think I want your chef.”

“You can have her.”

“I can’t afford her.”

He’s studying me. “I can.”

I roll my eyes dramatically. “Rub it in.”

“I meant I’ll have her cook for you if you want. You just need to tell her what you like.”

He’s actually offering.

My chews slow. “No, Aidan, it’s okay. I can cook for myself.”

“You any good in the kitchen?”

“When I want to be, yeah.”

He nods slowly, liking that. “Cook for me sometime.”

I smile. “Okay, but you gotta let me know what you want.”

He smiles back, and my heart jumps. “I don’t care, Ivy. Just a good old fashioned home-made meal will do.”

I eye him strangely now. “Haven’t had a good one in a while?”

His smile is wistful now. “Not for years.”

I don’t know why, but I’m sensing Aidan is…lonely. Which is insane to even consider because look at him and who he is! The man is loaded, can have anyone here at the snap of his fingers, and yet… his home looks like it was picked out of a magazine. It’s clinical and void of any sort of personality. I look around at the containers, at the restaurant quality food we’re eating. He wants a meal with a human touch. I kind of feel like I’m looking past the curtain right now. Aidan on the surface is mostly unreadable, but the way he’s looking at me now, I sense vulnerability.

“I will make you a good old-fashioned lasagna, Mr West,” I promise, grinning at him. “But you can’t make fun of it. I’m a messy presenter. It won’t be Gordon Ramsey on a plate, okay?”

His face remains soft as he looks back at me. He doesn’t smile wide or feed into the humor I’m trying to infuse.

“Okay, Ivy,” he says quietly.

I look down at the food, pretending to be interested now in these award-winning steak cuts, but I’m actually nervous as hell. Aidan’s attention is making me feel self-conscious. I keep feeling like something is about to happen, but it doesn’t, and I’m lingering just before the edge.

I drink some more.

At some point, I ask him, “You mind if I have my Spotify on?”

“Your what?”

I hold back a laugh. “Music.”

“Go for it, Ivy.”

He’s taking bites, but his attention is on me as I grab the shattered phone from my purse and scroll through my playlist. It’s hard because the screen is cracked to shit, but at least it’s working. God bless Samsungs. I scooped it up quickly on my way out of the apartment without checking it. I purposely avoid the social apps. What if Derek messaged me? I don’t need that negativity. I have no desire to even see what messages are lurking there. No, instead I turn off my data and focus on dinner and music.

I need something good. Something fun. Something that will alleviate this intense dinner with Aidan West. I put on Dance Monkey and set the phone down next to my plate. This is an immediate mood lifter.

As the song plays, Aidan eyes me, his amused expression growing. I’m eating like an animal; my pretty bangle is clanging audibly against the shitty ones. I’m pretty sure my make-up is ruined and my hair…god, what does my hair look like after a day of stressfully raking my fingers through it?

“What are you looking at?” I ask him playfully, catching his eye.

He doesn't blink. "You."

I try not to shake.

“For the occasion, this is the most what-the-fuck song, Ivy,” he adds.

I laugh. “If I was any happier, I’d actually be dancing to it.”

“Be happier,” he tells me, and he’s not being playful at all.

He’s serious.

“I can’t dance right now,” I tell him. “I sort of had a bad day.”

“Why are you so full of shit?”

I feign a look of shock. “I’m not.”

“Baby, you’re swaying to the song already.”

My heart hiccups in my chest. “The song is ending anyway.”

“Put it on again and dance for me.”

My face is so red. I regret putting on music now. “I’m embarrassed to dance in front of you.”

“Why?”

I give him a look. “Because it’s…you. I don’t want to make a fool