chapter eleven
florence thompson
song: heaven – julia michaels
When I arrived at the restaurant I nearly drove right past and back to my apartment. I quickly realized he'd reserved us a spot at the most luxurious restaurant in town, Oiseau de Nuit. The priciest dining in town and the only restaurant that stayed open past midnight in town.
Glenn's stayed open until one in the morning but I can't say that it is exactly on the same level as Oiseau de Nuit.
Everyone who dined here spoke about the food and service so highly that it put any other restaurant in a fifty-mile radius to shame. Of course, if you could afford to dine at such an expensive establishment.
Fun fact: I cannot.
Anxiety bubbled in my stomach, sweat pooling in my palms as I pulled up to the valet who refrained from eyeing my car as most everyone else does. I unbuckled my seatbelt, getting out of the car and taking my keys with me.
Are you supposed to give them your keys?
Are you supposed to leave them in the car?
Are you supposed to leave the car running?
These are the things that this poor girl does not know.
"Good evening, Miss," the valet spoke, his voice smooth and even. He held out a gloved hand and I plopped my keys onto his open palm.
"Good evening." I smiled warmly.
"Enjoy your meal." He nodded courteously before rounding my car and sliding into the drivers seat. He looked so big in my tiny car, and very out of place.
Panic struck me when I tried to recall if I'd thrown away my McDonalds trash from the other day that I'd stuck in my passenger seat.
I live to embarrass myself, I swear to god.
"Good evening, Miss," the man at the door nodded like the valet had, holding the door open for me and revealing the inner workings of the immaculate restaurant.
"Good evening," I repeated for the second time, nodding respectfully at him and thanking him before ambling into the building.
As soon as I stepped foot into the building a delicious aroma washed over me, causing my hungry stomach to growl. The atmosphere was quiet, French music playing at a low volume as the people spoke softly. It was dim, the lights not bright and obnoxious like most restaurants. A beautiful, intricate chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, causing me to be quite awe-struck.
"Bienvenue," a soft, quiet voice pulled my attention away from the decoration and instead down to the small woman in front of me. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a slick bun, she was wearing a pink button up blouse and a black pencil skirt. I suddenly felt very underdressed. "Do you have a reservation?" She asked, holding one expensive ass looking clipboard in her arms, flipping a sheet over the top as she eyed me.
My words seemed to get stuck in my throat for a moment until I relearned how to properly speak and unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth.
"Uh, well, I believe so," I spoke softly, quite unsure whether or not he had actually been able to reserve seats so close to the date we'd decided on. "De Bellis? Vincent De Bellis?" I asked, gnawing nervously on the inside of my lip.
She'd been glancing down at the paper on the clipboard before she'd heard his name, and the second his name left my lips her eyes widened, realization falling over her features.
"Oh, Miss Thompson, yes, right this way," she nodded, motioning for me to follow her.
I furrowed my brows as I followed behind her, passing the tables of annoyingly beautiful people in ridiculously expensive looking clothing.
The petite lady led me through the building towards the back, leading me down a hall and to another dining room, this one very secluded and as I'd come to realize – only meant for private dining.
My cheeks reddened at the thought of how much Vincent must've paid for this, nerves dancing in my stomach.
"Mr. De Bellis has been waiting," she spoke softly, pulling open the door and ushering me in.
Her words echoed in my mind.
He's been waiting.
For me.
He's been waiting for little old me, a sad excuse of a girl and even sadder excuse of a date.
When the door latched behind me I realized the lady wasn't going to follow me in and I was left on my own to face the music. I gnawed the inside of my lip, turning my gaze back around towards the center of the room where I found Vincent De Bellis standing, hands in his pockets and a small smirk on his lips, seemingly even taller than I remember him.
"Miss Thompson, I'm glad to see you could make it," he stepped towards my general direction, cocking his head slightly as I stood there, feeling a mere insect.
"Of course," I smiled softly. "I said I would be here, so...here I am." I opened my arms slightly, motioning at the beautiful building around me.
Vincent chuckled, bowing his head slightly, probably thinking about how absolutely stupid that sounded.
Because that's sure as hell what I'm thinking about.
"Here, have a seat." He motioned towards the table and moved over to the opposite side, pulling out a chair.
I released a small sigh, moving towards the seat.
I glanced up at his towering frame, slipping into the seat before he pushed me in slightly. The scent of his cologne worked around me, filling my senses and probably stealing all my brain cells while it's at it.
He rounded the table, sitting down across from me with a secretive smirk on his lips.
"Is something funny, Mr. De Bellis?" I asked, finding a sudden surge of confidence as I glanced up at him over my menu.
He shook his head slightly, looking back down to the menu in front of him before folding it and placing it on the edge of the table between us for the waiter to grab. He'd already figured out what he wanted to eat and here I was, reading the menu but retaining none of the items.
He probably eats here often, my voice of reason chimed in.
"You just seem so...tense, Miss Thompson," he spoke, his voice silky as it escaped his full, parted lips.
His left eye that was partially brown, was ten times more alluring now that I was sat across from him. It was a stark contrast from the icy blue pooling in the other half.
"Your eyes," I spoke, "they're really pretty." I changed the topic once again, feeling momentarily like a squirrel with ADHD.
He released a throaty chuckle, bowing his head for a moment.
"I'm sorry," I blurted. "I'm sure you get that all the time."
He took a sip from his glass of what seemed to be wine before slowly placing it back down on the table and watching me closely.
"To be fair, you lasted longer than most people do before making some sort of comment about it," his lips tugged up into another one of those breathtaking smirks, quirking up more to one side than the other.
Something fluttered in my stomach as I watched his gaze dance over my reddening face. There's something about having a man with so much power and authority as Vincent De Bellis scrutinizing your every contour.
"Well, I guess that's at least something," I smiled softly before moving my gaze back down to the menu in my hands, trying to pick out something for the life of me. "What do you recommend here?"
Vincent quirked his lips in thought.
"Do you trust me, Florence?"
The way his voice alone effected me made my inner definitely not virgin squeal with delight and say "Of course! I'd trust you with anything! Wanna bang on the table now?"
"Depends," I answered instead. "Are we talking life or death?"
He bobbed his head side to side as he debated my words.
"Well, we're talking about dining choices, so pretty much," he joked, his tone teasing as he flashed a dazzling smile at me.
I mulled the thought over for a moment.
He knows more than you do, my inner voice reasoned once again.
"Sure, why not."
Vincent chuckled. "I enjoy the vote of confidence," he pulled the menu from my hands and placed it on top of his just as the waiter came into the secluded room.
We were so secluded that I had started to forget that right outside the door was a building full of people.
Ben's annoying voice floated through my mind.
Secluded. So he can murder you and get away with it.
"Good evening, Mr. De Bellis," the waiter spoke, nodding respectively at Vincent as he stood next to our table, pulling a notepad out along with a pen. "Miss," he acknowledged me, a polite smile on his lips.
"Good evening, Antoine." Vincent greeted him, and I was oddly surprised at the fact that he knew him well enough for a first name basis.
"What can I get you two tonight?" He asked, jotting something down on his paper before glancing back up to us.
"We'll both have the steak tartare and french onion soup," Vincent spoke with certainty, making my eyebrows raise slightly. "And could we get some more wine with that, same that we have now?" He asked politely.
Antoine nodded, jotting down everything.
"Can I get a water?" I asked, my tone meek and polite.
As much as I'd love to indulge in fancy, expensive wine, I had to drive home.
"Of course, ma'am. I'll be right back with that," he nodded again before backtracking through the room and back out the door he'd just come from.
"He seems nice," I mumbled, watching the door as it slowly swung closed behind Antoine.
"No wine for you?" Vincent asked, ignoring my statement as he folded his hands together under his chin. I glanced back at him to find that his mismatched gaze was trained on my face, causing my nerves to flare dramatically.
"I have to drive." Not to mention I'm not old enough.
I smiled tightly, glancing down to the half-full glass of wine in front of me. The liquid was a deep shade of red, glistening in the clear glass.
Vincent nodded, leaning back into his chair easily, an unreadable expression slipped over his handsome features.
"So, Florence, I suppose we should address the elephant in the room, huh?" He asked, absentmindedly swishing his wine around in his glass. I watched as the liquid climbed the sides but never far enough to spill out.
"The elephant?" I parroted, my gaze moving from his glass back up to his face which seemed fairly amused at this exact moment in time. "I'm afraid I don't know what...elephant you're referencing."
Vincent chuckled softly, bowing his head momentarily.
"I've been doing this for a long, long time, Miss Thompson. I can spot a newbie from a mile away, and to be quite frank you reek of innocence and ignorance," his voice was throaty and alluring, shivers danced down my spine. My cheeks heated up at his words, knowing full well that he was completely right.
The word ignorance stung slightly, but nonetheless, he wasn't wrong about it.
I'm very obnoxiously aware of the fact that I'm the furthest thing from a weathered sugar baby, and that I have absolutely no business even being on this date right now but my curiosity got the better of me in most things in my life. The sugar baby world and Vincent De Bellis are no exception to that.
"A long time, huh?" I asked, glancing down to my hands on the table. Something about the fact that he's probably had hundreds of sugar babies was suddenly very unnerving.
He's probably been with more girls than I can count, and here I am, a virgin, dipping her toe into the sugar baby pond and terrified of falling into a whole goddamn lake.
Vincent's lips quirked up into a sly smirk, causing butterflies to flutter softly in my stomach. "A long time, Miss Thompson," he repeated, putting more emphasis on long than he had before. "I'm amused that was all you got out of that whole thing, really."
I sighed, nervously grabbing my glass of untouched wine and taking a large gulp. Honestly, at this point, one sip will probably help more than hurt.
"Oh no," I said, gulping hard and moving my gaze back to his, "I caught the whole thing, trust me. I'm just choosing to ignore the whole you're too innocent for this spiel, I've heard it a million and one different times this past week and honestly, I just don't care to pay attention to it anymore."
My inner voice of reason was pulling her hair out and smacking her head on a wall at my impulsive moment of confidence.
Vincent's eyes widened by a fraction, something I would've missed had I not been staring straight at them. His tongue flicked out, running over his bottom lip as he watched me closely.
"Maybe there's more weight to these accusations than you like to think," he cocked his head slightly, his burning gaze dancing over me, leaving a fiery trail in its path.
It sounded like he was speaking in tongues, rendering me clueless. I got the gist of what he meant but the annoyance that came with each time someone told me I wasn't cut out for this only even parts made me want to never tread in this territory and also dive head first into the unknown.
I'm 20, why not experiment now?
But also...I'm 20, if I want to find my "soul mate" by next year, I need to stop messing around.
"Maybe I know this but don't really care," I offered, my voice barely audible as I trained my gaze on the glass in front of me.
Jesus Christ, where is the food?
I swear I'm going to pass out from this conversation.
He hummed lowly, nodding slightly. His jaw was set in place as he brought his large hand up to run it over the stubble that was cast across it. He looked as if he was in deep thought, mulling over the words I'd just spoken.
"As much as this theory entertains me, I don't think it's true. But I'll bite," he shifted in his seat, a smile tugging at his lips.
There it is again, those words.
I'll bite.
"I'll treat this like any other sugar baby arrangement if that is what you'd like, Miss Thompson," he offered, his voice smooth as it exited his parted lips.
I drew my bottom lip between my teeth absentmindedly, watching as his gaze flickered down to the motion. His expression flickered from something polite and controlled to something much more confusing.
Shivers danced down the length of my spine, and I suddenly felt like my whole body was on fire.
"That is exactly what I want." I finally unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth, finding my voice deep down in my chest.
He nodded once and just then the door opened and Antoine sauntered in, catching my attention as I turned my gaze over to him. I could still feel Vincent's gaze unmoving and drilling into the side of my face, heat washed over my probably reddening cheeks.
"Sorry for the wait, Mr. De Bellis," Antoine spoke politely, pulling the plates from his saucer that also balanced my glass of water and Vincent's wine bottle. He placed our dishes in front of us and my empty stomach rumbled quietly.
Dear god, I hope he didn't hear that.
"Thank you," I smiled up at Antoine who quickly returned the gesture.
He placed our drinks onto the table and then held the saucer under his arm, flat against his side. "I'll let you two enjoy your meal, I'll be back in a little bit to check up."
We both simultaneously thanked him before he politely nodded and retreated back from the way he came, leaving us to sit in the festering silence. It was unnerving, honestly. I couldn't imagine any other scenario where it wasn't uncomfortable to be a raging virgin who is poorer than dirt, sitting across from quite possibly the most attractive man I've ever seen, in complete silence.
We both dug into our dishes, and I soon found out that I love french onion soup.
The only sound to be heard in the room was the sound of the utensils hitting the plates and the low hum of beautiful French music in the background. I glanced up at Vincent slowly through my lashes, watching as he took a sip of his wine, his spoon still in his right hand.
He caught me glancing, causing my cheeks to immediately heat up. Surely you could flick water at them and listen to it sizzle at this point.
Mesmerized by his mismatched gaze, I found myself unable to look away even though he'd caught me. I wanted to ask him a million and one different questions, mostly pertaining to his breathtaking eyes but I found myself rendered speechless, once again.
"Hasn't anyone ever told you staring is rude, Miss Thompson?" He asked, his voice throaty as he placed his glass back down onto the table.
If my body wasn't on fire before, it definitely is now.
I finally broke my gaze, glancing down to the soup in front of me, moving a crouton around with my spoon nervously. I felt my nerves intensifying as the silence lingered between us. My body felt like it was in fight or flight mode and my legs itched to make a break for it, back to my apartment where Rico possibly was and tell him it was terrible and I never want to see him again.
But it wasn't true.
"So, Florence, you must know, with all of my other sugar babies we have an extensive interview process. I'm not the average giver, I do things a little differently than most," he spoke, finally breaking the silence as my gaze glided back up to his handsome face.
Yeah, couldn't tell you do things differently than most from just looking around, thanks for clearing that up.
"Okay," I mumbled, nodding before taking a sip of my water.
"So, for starters, what do you want out of this...financial relationship?" He asked, leaning back into his seat and keeping his gaze trained on me. I felt my mouth dry at his question.
What do I want from this?
Answers to burning questions I have?
I thought about his question for a moment, mulling it over and thinking of different possible answers, none of them seeming good enough. The truth is I don't know what I want, and I sure as hell am not going to figure that out in the next ten seconds to give him a satisfactory answer.
"I...I don't really know," I mumbled, slightly embarrassed that I came here not even knowing what I was trying to get out of this situation other than the satisfaction of saying I did it and proving everyone wrong.
Vincent's gaze quickly turned from neutral to very clearly amused.
"You don't know?" He repeated, eyes slightly wider than before. "You don't know why you're here, Florence?" He asked, causing my anxiety to skyrocket straight out of this building.
I gnawed the inside of my lip momentarily, trying to calculate some type of response in my mind that wouldn't make me sound like a complete and total idiot. It's pretty much already too late for that, but if it's possible to embarrass myself further, I'd like to spare myself.
"I'm here because you asked me to come," I began, leaning back in my seat, appetite gone with the wind. "Which was probably a bad choice on my part," I mumbled under my breath, dabbing my mouth with the napkin next to my plate.
"I'm sorry, I'm just surprised," he backtracked, tilting his head ever so slightly as he glanced over my frustrated expression.
"It's fine."
"Next question then, shall we?"
"Yeah, next question," I agreed, thankful to finally move on from the subject but never expecting the words that were about to leave his mouth.
"How many sexual partners are you with currently?"
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
q: what is your favorite cartoon movie?
Updates every Saturday at 9 am PST and 12pm EST
Don't forget to vote & comment, I love getting feedback from you guys!!