by Emma Quinn
It stopped above her knees, but covered everything, which was important. The dress flared out at the bottom, but the bodice was tight, fitting her form and her curves.
She didn’t necessary have the largest chest in the world, but the dress accentuated what she had nicely. It gave her a nice line of cleavage that made her feel like an adult, a woman.
Helen had always felt confident in her job, her workplace, but oftentimes romantically she felt like she was playing dress up, wearing her mother’s clothing in heels that were too big. But the dress made her feel like she was on an even playing field.
“Now, if I can find a pair of shoes, maybe I’ll feel like an adult tonight,” she said to her reflection.
That proved to be harder than finding the dress, strangely enough. It wasn’t that she completely detested heels, but she didn’t have much occasion to wear them. But she found an old pair that still looked decent – mostly because she never wore them.
They were black, very basic. But they suited the dress well and they were easy enough for her to walk in. That was an important part, too. With dress and shoes picked out, she took some extra time on her makeup and hair.
She felt a little ridiculous, after all, this was supposed to be a courtesy date – a blackmail date. This was about saving her parents’ restaurant. It was weird to be spending so much time on someone she was convincing herself she didn’t care about.
And if she didn’t care, what did it matter what she looked like?
Nevertheless, she found that she wanted to look nice. And maybe it was just the fact that she had an evening out. An excuse to be out. Or maybe Fiona was right and her subconscious was trying to tell her something about Mr. Roth.
Pushing those thoughts away, because she wasn’t quite sure how to deal with them yet, she finished up her hair and makeup.
Examining herself in the mirror, she decided that she looked good enough.
Michael had offered to pick her up, but she had declined. She wasn’t sure if she felt embarrassed at the idea of him seeing her little apartment, or if she wasn’t comfortable enough letting him know where she lived just yet. On some level that seemed ridiculous, surely a man with his kind of power and connections would easily find her address. But it didn’t change the fact that she would just as soon not let him know where she lived. At least, not yet.
So she agreed to meet him at an address he’d chosen, she assumed it was the restaurant they were going to.
Helen had no idea where it was initially, so she was grateful when she hailed a taxi and let him figure out where it was.
“Florence street?” the cabby commented. “Wow. Must be a nice night out.”
She could see him eying her in the rearview mirror as he said it. She didn’t care, or at least, she convinced herself not to be bothered about it. After all, the whole point of getting dolled up was to be noticeable, right?
The conversation with the cab driver didn’t go much farther than that, but he dropped her off in a nice part of town, outside a restaurant called Ma Cherie’s. It was done in a French colonial style, if a bit updated. There were white marble pillars and intricately engraved framing around the windows. The doors themselves looked to be heavy wood. The windows were large and lit up with tiny twinkling lights that gave the entire feel to be almost magical.
Helen acknowledged that it was beautiful and also some place she had never been before.
Deliberately, she ignored the hearts cut out in a string hanging outside the door and the tray of delicate heart-shaped chocolates just outside.
She didn’t want reminders of Valentine’s Day, thank you very much.
For just a moment, Helen could see where Mr. Roth was coming from. To him, her little neighborhood must have looked trashy, falling apart even. If this was the kind of area he was used to being in, then surely hers was… nothing.
It made her sad briefly, because although she could understand where he was coming from—this building was beautiful, elegant and certainly higher class than she had ever been to—at the same time, she knew there was beauty in her parents’ little restaurant. That there was something homey, cozy about it.
There was a warmth, that she wasn’t sure she would find at this elegant Ma Cherie’s.
Helen paid the cabby and he drove off, leaving her standing in a nicer part of town, the area clean. She wasn’t nervous waiting, but she did feel a little out of place. The patron’s entering Ma Cherie’s were elegant and beautiful and clearly very wealthy. It was clear she didn’t belong and for half a second she considered bailing on the entire thing.
But then she remembered that she had made a deal for her parents’ restaurant. Plus, it helped that two seconds later, Mr. Roth showed up.
“Helen, there you are,” he said. He was smiling so brightly, clearly pleased to see her.
It made those butterflies erupt in her stomach all over again.
He was handsome, of course. Gorgeous and sexy. He looked like he’d just walked off the cover of one of Fiona’s romance novels or maybe GQ. For a second, she felt almost drab in comparison and once again the feeling of being entirely in the wrong place hit her. But then he stopped in front of her, reached for her hand and brought it to his mouth. She felt his soft lips press to the backs of her hand.
A thrill of warmth rushed through her body.
“You are the most beautiful thing,” he murmured against her skin. “Thank you for coming out tonight. I wish you would have let me pick you up.”
She laughed and was almost embarrassed that it came out breathlessly, like flirting. “Oh, no. This is only date one. I need to be able to ghost you if it goes horribly wrong and how can I do that if you know where I live?”
He laughed, then placed her hand in the crook of his arm. It all felt so formal, so fancy. “I’ll take that as a rare opportunity then.”
“What do you mean?”
“The opportunity to convince you for a second date.” He grinned and she let herself flush a little.
He was handsome. And as much as she was doing this for the sake of her family and the park, she let herself bask in it a little. She also secretly let herself imagine that there might be a second date.
Michael led her inside the restaurant. The hostess recognized him immediately. “Hello, Mr. Roth. Table for two this evening?”
“Yes, thank you.”
The hostess picked up two menus and one for wine and desert, then led the way through the restaurant. There weren’t that many tables, allowing for the feeling of space and intimacy. It helped that the twinkling lights looked more like candlelight inside and kept the place dim and magical.
When the hostess finally stopped, turning to face them as she stepped aside, it was at a small table with a maroon colored tablecloth over the dark, hardwood table. There were only two chairs and a string of lights overhead that illuminated the table just enough.
Helen took a moment to wonder if this was his usual table. Was it reserved just for him? Did he bring all of his dates here? Were there a lot of them?
She didn’t voice these questions. Instead, she let him pull out a chair for her and took a seat, careful to tuck her skirt in after her.
He took a seat across from her and the hostess set the menus out in front of each of them. “Would you like to start with something to drink this evening? We have an excellent house pinot.”
“A chardonnay, please,” Michael ordered. “Is that alright with you, Helen?”
“Sounds perfect,” she answered quickly.
She wasn’t much of a drinker and she had no idea what the difference was between chardonnay and pinot. She wasn’t even sure it mattered, in all honesty. Alcohol was alcohol for the most part, at least in her humble opinion, and other than the occasional wine cooler in the summer or champagne at New Year’s, she didn’t do much in the way of drinking.
The hostess nodded and hurried off to retrieve their drinks.
“This is nice,” Helen commented, her voice hushed. The place
felt intimate and quiet, making her feel as though her voice needed to be softer somehow.
Michael smiled at her. “I was hoping you’d like it. It’s one of my favorites, though I don’t have much occasion to stop by most of the time.”
“No?” she tried and failed to keep the surprise from her voice.
He laughed a little. “No. It’s not exactly the place for business meetings.”
She flushed a little and admitted, “I was thinking more than you brought all your girls here, you know?”
He raised an eyebrow at her and his grin was cheeky as he asked, “Are you one of my girls then?”
Laughing at herself, she shook her head and put her hand in her palm. “Jeez, I’m sorry. I’m horrible at this.”
“At what?” he asked, amusement lingering in his voice as he set his chin in his hand.
“Dates. They go notoriously wrong for me and now it’s Valentine’s Day on top of it.”
She waved her hand around to indicate the restaurant. The decorations for Valentine’s Day were thankfully muted, but now that she was looking for them, she spotted the tiny hearts outlined in mirrored glass and tiny pink crystals that might or might not have been real. Women were dressed in every shade of pink and red under the sun. Men wore ties to match their dates.
“Should I not have gotten you roses?” Michael asked.
Before Helen could ask what he was talking about, a handsome waiter appeared, laying a dozen red roses on the table in front of her. She stared at them, wide-eyed. “You got me flowers.”
“I got you flowers,” he repeated, grinning.
“You’re teasing me, aren’t you?”
He grinned. “Maybe a little. It wasn’t my intention to make you nervous. I was just hoping to have a nice time.”
She hesitated a second, then said, “The roses are beautiful. Thank you. It’s been a while since anyone gave me flowers.”
“Oh? I’m surprised. I would have thought your suitors were constantly showering you with affection and gifts.”
It sounded like it should have been a sarcastic jab at her, but the way he said it, it sounded sincere. Like he truly expected her to have a line of suitors out the door, each holding large bouquets of flowers and boxes of chocolates in an effort to win her affections.
Her body flushed a little, not because it would be nice to have that much attention, but because the man she was seated across from truly thought she was beautiful enough to warrant that much attention.
It was nice to have someone think she was beautiful.
“The last time I got flowers it was from my parents for graduation,” she admitted, feeling almost embarrassed to admit it.
He reached across the table for her hand. His fingers were warm and sent fire through her veins. It was strange what such a small touch could do. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he told her sincerely. “A woman like you should receive flowers every day.”
She wanted to make some snarky comment about how flattery wouldn’t get him everywhere, but the truth was, it was exactly what she wanted to hear.
What woman wouldn’t.
So she was relieved when a waiter brought the wine. It meant she didn’t have to say anything to that and it lessened the chance that she would say something embarrassing.
“Are you ready to order or would you like more time with the menu?” the waiter asked them.
Helen quickly picked up the menu and looked through it, realizing that she hadn’t so much as glanced at it yet. Now that she was looking, she noticed that everything was in French and that nothing came with prices. That usually meant expensive.
“Um…” she trailed off. She looked up at Michael helplessly.
He smiled at her. “If you don’t mind me ordering for you?”
She nodded, relieved. “Please.”
He rattled off some French sounding things that she couldn’t hope of ever translating and the waiter nodded, leaving them alone as he went to put in their order.
“Do I want to know what you just ordered for me?”
“It’s chicken,” he said with a small shrug. “You seemed a little flustered with the menu so I thought something safe would be a good choice.”
“Not a bad idea.”
“I’m a little surprised, I figured you would know French,” he admitted.
She laughed. “I’m a scientist. I know Latin a lot better than French.”
“Touché,” he conceded, lifting his freshly poured glass of wine in her direction.
She lifted her own to match and said, “I think touché is about all the French I know and I have no idea what it means.”
He laughed lightly. “It means to touch or strike, technically.”
“Where did you learn French?” she asked, sipping at her wine. It was a little bitter, but there was a sweet tang to it that she found was pretty good. She took another careful sip and found it tasted better.
“High school. I’d like to say it was my interest in the culture and the language that defined my decision, but…” He trailed off.
“But it was the chicks?” she supplied with a raised brow.
He grinned at her. “Of course. Women love French. It’s only fitting that I would find a woman who preferred Latin.”
She returned his smile. “That’s the luck of the draw for you.”
“I think I like my luck this evening.”
Clearing her throat, she looked away and reached for her glass again. “So. Business. You mentioned you got into it after your firefighter dream went down the drain. Why?”
He sat back and shrugged. “Why not?”
“Those two things aren’t exactly related,” she pointed out.
“When I was a kid, it was always expected that I would take over my father’s business. I had other ideas for a long time.” He smiled, but it was sad. “Then I grew up.”
“Okay, but being a firefighter isn’t just a kid’s dream. A lot of people are firefighters and you certainly fit the mold.” Her eyes got wide as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She couldn’t believe she’d just said that! Why not just tell him she thought he’d make a great Chip n’ Dale’s dancer?
Horrified, she clenched her eyes shut tightly, but when he started laughing, she peeked.
“Thank you,” he said, and that smile had grown genuine again. “That’s quite a compliment.”
“I told you, I’m so bad at dates.”
“I think the night’s going perfectly.”
She relaxed a little and sipped again at her wine. “Okay, then I’m going to continue my line of questioning. Why did you have to forgo your red superhero costume?”
“For a life of supervillainy?” he teased.
It was her turn to laugh. “Touché.”
“Glad to see you’re learning French so easily.”
“Seriously though. Why give up?”
His features drooped a little and suddenly he seemed years older. The lines on his face became noticeable and his eyes grew darker. “When I was in school, my father died.”
Suddenly, Helen wished she hadn’t brought it up. How stupid of her! She reached across the table for his hand. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine if I’d lost my father.” He had been so important growing up and even now he was a wealth of comfort and wisdom. She owed so much to him… How horrible that Michael had lost his own father!
“I took it pretty hard,” he admitted and while his voice was steady, he gripped her hand tightly in his. “I remember that the last discussion we’d had about the business was that I would never take it over, that it was a waste of time.” He winced. “That was his life’s work and I told him it was a waste of time.”
He shook his head, but didn’t say anything else.
She gave his hand a comforting squeeze. “You were a kid. Kids say stupid things to their parents. I’m sure he knew that you’d grow up and realize that we all make our own choices.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t sound convinced. “After it happened, I decided i
t was time to be the man my father had always expected me to be and do something productive with what I’d been given. I got my business degree and finally took over the business.”
She hesitated. Did she really want to bring up what she’d uncovered during her and Fiona’s internet research on Roth, Inc.? The date was going well… Really well. Unexpectedly so. It had been a long time since she’d had such a good date with such a handsome man who seemed to be so interested in her.
Did she want to wreck it?
Before she could decide, he continued.
“Ethan—he’s my business partner—ran the business until I could take over. He kept things marching on, even managed some major deals for the company in the wake of my father’s death. I don’t know that the company would have made it without him.”
She frowned. “Ethan?”
Michael nodded. “I don’t think you were officially introduced, but you saw him briefly at the restaurant the day we met. You remember, the day you started chewing my ass?”
She winced. “Well, you kind of deserved it for trying to take my family’s business.”
He hesitated, then said, “I looked through your reports. They’re very convincing.”
“The truth usually is, if you bother looking at it.”
“I don’t know how my company missed them.”
Helen didn’t say anything, though she wanted to. People usually only miss information that’s right in front of them when they don’t want to know that it’s there. It didn’t seem like Michael was willfully ignorant, but maybe he wasn’t very invested in figuring out the fine details of things. After all, he was the boss. Maybe the boss didn’t need to look too closely at the facts.
Dinner came then and they fell to silence as they ate. Helen admitted that the chicken was a good choice. Despite being the safe option, it was also delicious. Not dry or tasteless like many places and the sides were good as well.
But Helen was only half thinking about food.
As she dabbed at the corners of her mouth, trying to be as delicate as possible, she said, “You said we could go anywhere I wanted.”
He sat back in his chair and nodded. “I did,” he agreed. “But I thought you were fine with this restaurant?”
