“Would you like another drink?” His voice is low as if he’s trying to spare my embarrassment. The concern in his eyes is genuine.

“Yes, please.”

“What are you having?” the server asks.

“Peach schnapps with soda,” I say.

“That’ll be all,” he says to the waitress, taking the menu from my hands and handing it to her.

When my salad arrives, he watches me while I eat, his mouth curling into a slight smile when I take a bite of chicken. This man is strange. Why would he care if I ate? I just met him. And I’m certainly not at risk of starving to death.

Realizing I’ve eaten almost every bite without offering him any makes me self-conscious. There’s a ripe cherry tomato left at the edge of the plate.

“Would you like a tomato?” I ask.

“No, I don’t want your tomato. At least, not in the sense you’re offering.” He smirks.

My cheeks burn, but I pretend not to notice his cheeky remark. Instead, I take my last bite of salad, wipe my mouth on the napkin, and look up at him. I’m ready to get down to business.

“If we decide to work together, how does it work?” I take a sip of my cocktail and wait for him to answer.

“We’ll get to that, but first you failed to answer my last question in our e-mail exchange.”

I blink at him, feigning ignorance.

“What is one thing you’re scared of?” he says to remind me.

I swallow and take a deep gulp of air. I’ve taken several days to consider his question, somehow knowing that he wouldn’t let me get away without answering.

“My greatest desire is to be loved, and I’m most afraid of never finding it,” I say softly. It sounds silly, overly romantic, and immature when I say it out loud, but it’s the absolute truth.

His next words are sharp and blunt. “Don’t be afraid of what you want. I can turn you into a sex goddess that men want to fuck, and I can make you into the perfect housewife. My goal is to learn you and help you reach your goals.”

“I just want a certain man to notice me,” I say quietly.

“I understand.”

I look down at the empty plate in front of me. My stomach is turning somersaults, and the salad I ate is threatening to return.

“You’re nervous.” His voice is soft and controlled.

“Yes,” I admit.

“And you’re unsure about working with me.”

“I need a little time to think it all over.”

He nods once in understanding. “The choice is yours. I get thirty of those e-mails a day. If you’re not sure, if you can’t devote yourself to this one hundred percent, then I’m afraid I can’t either. I’m a busy man, and I only have time for serious students, Brielle.”

I take a moment to mull it over. Although I need the help, there’s something that still confuses me. “This dominant thing…I’m not sure about that since I’m not a submissive. I don’t know how this will work.” And I really don’t see how being tied up and spanked will achieve anything.

“If I told you to go into the restroom and remove your panties right now…does that excite you?”

My pulse throbs in my neck, and my belly stirs with butterflies. “Maybe a little.”

“That’s what I thought. Don’t worry about the labels. I’m your guide, your leader on this journey. Are you okay with that?”

“I guess so.”

“Yes or no, Brielle?”

“Yes,” I manage.

“Good.”

“How do we begin?” My voice is shaky, but at least I’m able to maintain eye contact with the gorgeous and domineering man before me.

“We would meet weekly at a time and place I choose. I would issue you a challenge. As I get to know you and see how you react to me, I will know which things you need help with. My tutoring would center on those issues. You have to give yourself to me fully and trust in this process for it to work. For you, it would likely be self-confidence, the art of seduction, and as you’ve indicated, sexual awareness.”

Everything he’s just described is exactly what I want, what I crave. There’s only one thing that’s bugging me… “You don’t really expect me to call you Dom, do you?”

He watches me curiously. “I do.”

I’m desperate to know his name, and I don’t even know why. Maybe because this isn’t some game to me. This is my life. And if I’m trusting this stranger with my body—and my head—I want to know more about who he is.

“You already know my name. Why can’t you just tell me your first name?”

He lets out a heavy sigh, and I can tell there’s something he dislikes about me questioning him. “I’ve had two unfortunate incidents of women falling for me and trying to track me down in my personal life. My first name is uncommon, and because of what’s happened in the past, I can’t risk it. Or rather, I won’t. So it’s Dom or nothing. Your call.”

“Are you married?”

“No.”

“A girlfriend?”

“No.” His tone is firm, and even though I don’t know if I should, I believe him.

“You’ll need to sign a basic nondisclosure agreement. Anything we do together shouldn’t be shared or discussed with outside parties—that’s to protect us both. I also insist that clients have STD testing completed. The results take about a week to come back, which is fine. Our first meeting isn’t going to be sexual.”