Ivy
I watched as Lucius came toward his car. Depositing himself in, he exhaled by asking, “What do you want for your early dinner?”
I shrugged. “Anything,” I said.
“My restaurant?” he suggested. Oh, hell no. I wasn’t dressed up for the occasion. I refused to be seen inappropriately by the guests there. Giving me a questioning look or giggling because of how I dressed up.
“I have to pass.”
“Why?” he asked, sounding shocked. Was he serious? Well, remembering this guy seemed to always wear something formal and branded. So high class he forgot how lower-class people usually wear.
“Mr. Godiva, look at me. I’m so plain the restaurant even kicks me out before I could enter.” And he laughed.
“You’re funny, Miss Phoenix. You’ll be fine while you’re with him.”
“I don’t want people to say a
