“Oh,” I say. Is he annoyed with me? I didn’t mean to get my Dad in trouble. From the way he talks, this guy must actually be higher up than him, which means he could be my Dad’s direct boss.
“No,” he says with a smile, picking up on the earlier thread. “He didn’t send me. Why don’t we walk together, and you can tell me about it while we look for a place to eat?”
“Do you know this area?” I ask, glancing around in the direction that he’s indicating. “That way is downtown. There are a lot of fancy restaurants and stuff out there, but not many casual places.”
“We’ll walk until we find somewhere fitting,” he says. He starts to move forward and somehow I find myself falling into step beside him, catching his rhythm. He has long legs, and at my side he is almost intimidatingly tall. I don’t really feel as though I can say no, somehow. I don’t want to.
“It’s just that my Dad wants me to work there so I can get a feel for it,” I say, trying to backtrack and explain my way out of it. “He’s hoping that I’ll love it so much I’ll decide not to go to college after all. But I’m not going to take it.”
“No, you’re not,” Nick says. I look up at him in surprise. He’s watching me with an intense gaze, and for a moment I think he’s angry. “You’re never going to work.”
“What? Why not?” What is he saying? That just because my Dad tried to get me a job at his company, he’ll somehow stop me from working anywhere else? Isn’t that an overreaction? Not to mention, impossible?
“Because you’re too good for that.” Nick pauses for a moment and squares up to me, making my steps falter on the sidewalk, pulling me in by the magnetism in his gaze. “You should be making a family of beautiful children with a lucky husband. Someone as beautiful as you doesn’t ever need to work a day in your life. You’ll have it all.”
Nick carries on walking, and it takes me a moment to catch up to what is happening and follow him. A family of beautiful children. No one has ever said anything like that to me before. My Dad and his friends from the office still see me as a kid myself, they have watched me grow up in a way through all of the visits I made to see Dad during the day or after school.
I feel an odd feeling right in the pit of my stomach. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but it certainly isn’t unpleasant. A family of beautiful children. I can’t remember a man ever talking to me that way, seeing me in that light. My potential as a wife and a mother. The guys I know around my own age are still just looking for a girlfriend they can waste time with and then break up with before going to college, no doubt taking their cherry with them. I’ve never been interested in a relationship like that. It’s always seemed so juvenile.
I drag my mind back to the present, to try to at least seem like I’m not some idiot girl with her head in the clouds. I don’t know what to say in response to Nick, so I just changed the subject. It’s the only thing I can think of.
“If you don’t want to take me out to lunch because you want me to have a job, then why are you taking me out to lunch?” I ask. A moment later I think I might regret it. What if I’m talking him out of the idea? I really do want to go to lunch with him. He’s so handsome, and he’s already turned my world half upside down. I can barely imagine what he could do in an hour.
“Because you’re a stunningly attractive young woman,” Nick says directly, looking at me sideways, tilting his head down towards me as we walk. “Maybe I want to audition for the part of that lucky husband.”
My heart somersaults inside my chest, and I can barely breathe for a moment. He can’t be serious, right? His words are so clear and direct, with no shyness about him. The guys I know are always saying things in circles, hiding the questions they really want to ask so they won’t be embarrassed if you say no. I guess this is what it’s like to be around a real man, not a boy.
I can feel my cheeks flaming at the compliment, and for the second time just a few snatches of conversation, I can’t think of a single thing to say. I’m flustered, and I barely even know if he’s joking or being serious. He doesn’t sound like he’s joking. But could a handsome older man like him really find a young woman like me to be worthy of his time?
“There’s a nice café just there,” I say, pointing right ahead of us. There are a few tables just outside, gingham tablecloths lifting slightly in the breeze. A sign hanging out front in our direction advertises their sandwiches and pastries. It looks like just the kind of casual place that Nick must be thinking of.
“Have you been there before?” Nick asks.
“No,” I say. “But it looks nice from out here.”
Nick carries on walking, passing right by it. I linger a little but soon find myself having to pick up the pace to catch up, confused. “Don’t you like the look of it?” I ask.
Nick flashes me a mysterious smile. “I suppose it looked nice enough,” he says. “But I already have somewhere in mind. So, if you’re not giving me a personal recommendation based on a place that you’ve been to before and enjoyed, then please allow me to show you my recommendation.”
I continue along the street with him, wondering just where he can be taking me. We’re starting to move out of the part of the city that I’m familiar with, into an area that is known for designer clothing stores and high-class restaurants. Where can we possibly be going out here?
CHAPTER FIVE
Nick
I enjoy Dahlia’s confusion, and her anticipation. The further we walk along this block, with the price tags in the windows going up in degrees with every store we pass, the more agitated she becomes. She keeps looking around in wonderment, no doubt trying to figure out where on earth I must be taking her.
We’ve walked for long enough, so it’s good that we’ve finally arrived. Normally I would have called a car to drive her to where we needed to go, but since she was walking anyway and I had to follow after her, this seemed like the best option. Now, I’m ready to show her what it means to be treated like a princess, just like she deserves.
“Right in here,” I say, gesturing to the doorway up ahead. She can’t possibly miss it. There is a literal red carpet outside the door, between two doormen who stand guard at the head of a row of velvet-roped barriers.
Dahlia turns to look at me from up ahead, I’ve deliberately slowed down so she can go first, and almost stops in her tracks. “No, not there, you’re joking.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m not.”
Dahlia’s head whips around, first to take in the grand entrance way again and then to look back at me. “You’re serious?”
I give her an easy smile as we come level with the doormen.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hatheway,” one of them says, nodding his head to me. The employees here are paid a lot of money to remember the names and faces of their customers.
“Good afternoon,” I tell him, then gesture forward again to Dahlia. “Ladies first.”
She walks ahead of me, looking back over her shoulder every few steps to check I’m still there, as if she thinks that this will all just disappear. Meanwhile, I’m enjoying my own view, her ass swaying in front of me in that white dress as she walks ahead, just tempting me to grab hold of it with both hands.
I restrain myself, for now. I will make her mine. Then that ass will be fair game no matter where we are or who we’re with. I have to avert my eyes and look up ahead at the restaurant that we’ve entered in order to stop all of the blood from rushing down to my cock.
I watch her admiring the space and I feel like I am also seeing it for the first time. I’ve been here more than once already. I was here in this part of the city when I scouted the business before the sale went through, and I also have a few other ventures in the surroundings nearby. This is a profitable area, after all.
It’s a small space for having such a grand entrance, and the impact is that it makes you feel part of a special club for even being able to get a seat here. Actually, there’s quite literally only a certain kind of person could even get in here. My m
embership with a few elite clubs, both of the business and the pleasure kind, allow me access. Any normal person who didn’t happen to be a billionaire or a celebrity would have no chance of getting in at all, unless they’re a guest of someone who has been invited.
The floors are polished stone, set to shine underneath our feet while allowing our steps to echo pleasingly. All of the waiters wear soft shoes to make us guests feel all the more powerful. The tables are set for just two or four diners, no more. Everything is intimate, from the single rose set in an expensive art-sculpture vase on each table to the velvet drapes that hang between each booth, creating an aura of privacy on either side of the path the servers walk.
We are immediately picked up by a well dressed young man at the entrance, who picks me out quickly with his sharp eyes. “Mr. Hatheway,” he says, in a French accent. “The two of you are dining today?”
“Yes,” I tell him. “Please lead on.”
I let Dahlia continue ahead of me as the man leads us through to an unoccupied table, and I pull out her chair before he can take that honor. She sits with a dazzled smile, clearly overwhelmed by the setting and the obvious displays of wealth from the other diners we passed.
“I feel underdressed,” she whispers, leaning over the table as soon as our waiter has left us with our menus.
I look up and smile at her. There’s something charming about her doubt. Doesn’t she realize she is the most beautiful woman in the room. “You’re just fine the way you are,” I tell her. “What would you like to eat?”
She opens the menu at my prompt and casts a glance down the list of items, short and limited but catering to many tastes. They serve only the very best here.
“This is too much,” she gasps. She must have been reading the price column. “I thought you just wanted to go to a café, or…”
“This is one of my usual lunch spots,” I tell her, leaning back in my chair with an easy manner. “I don’t waste time on things that aren’t the very best.” My eyes linger on hers until she blushes, and I know that she knows I mean her as well.
“I don’t even know what to get,” she says, reading down the menu again. There are only four or five choices for each course, but I can see that she doesn’t even know where to start.
“That’s easily solved,” I tell her. I look off to the side and, as if by magic, the waiter reappears silently. “We’ll take one of everything.” I hand the menu back to him calmly.
“We can’t!” Dahlia gasps.
“Why not?” I ask her, with a lazy shrug. “You can have anything you want, and the rest we’ll just leave.”
“Your usual to drink, sir?” the waiter asks, with a small bow of his head.
“Yes. And for the lady, what do you have in the way of non-alcoholic options?”
“We have a number of mocktail options,” the waiter replies, turning his attention to Dahlia. “With the summer menu, I would recommend something light and fruity, like a pina no-lada.”
“That sounds good,” Dahlia nods, then her eyes dart to mine. “I think… if that’s…?”
“Perfect,” I tell her with a smile. She doesn’t quite know yet that I will give her anything she wants. Anything that’s within my power to do so.
“Thank you,” Dahlia says, both to him and to me. The waiter gives us a short nod that could almost be a bow and then disappears into the general flow of the restaurant, gone as quickly and quietly as the breeze.
“I don’t know what to say,” Dahlia says in our renewed privacy, tucking her hair behind her ears on both sides. “I’ve never been somewhere like this before. I feel awful for costing you so much money.”
I wave a hand in the air at that. “It’s nothing to me,” I tell her. “Dahlia, do you know who I am? Have you worked that out yet?”
She tilts her head to the side, considering. A slight flush comes to her cheeks as she makes her guess. “I think you must own the company my Dad works for.”
“Yes,” I say, smiling and leaning towards her over the table. “You’re right. But that’s just one of my companies. I have a large portfolio. Places like this are normal for me. Relatively, I’m not spending much at all.”
Dahlia’s eyes widen as what I am telling her hits home. “You live like this all of the time?” She asks. She darts a curious glance behind her, over at the tables on the other side of the room, where men and women in suits, designer dresses, and elaborate jewelry are eating and chatting.
“Yes.” I wait for her to look back at me, and hold her gaze. “This is my life. Only the finest things. Expensive dinners, couture clothes, a penthouse apartment in five different cities and a home in the countryside. A fleet of cars and my own personal jet and helicopter so I know that I can always get around in comfort.”
Dahlia swallows and looks down at the table. “And a beautiful wife?” she asks. It’s sweet of her to think of that so quickly. To assume that I must have someone waiting at home, some ignored trophy.
“That part of the picture, I don’t have yet,” I tell her. “I have a lot to share with the right woman. This could all be hers, too.”
I want her to know that this is what I’m offering her. Not just myself, but everything else. She’s not a money-hungry gold-digger, I can see that just by looking at her, I knew it the second that we met. She isn’t the type to marry for money, so I don’t have any fear of telling her this. Besides, even if it did influence her opinion of me and make her pretend to love me, at least I would have my foot in the door. I would make sure she wasn’t pretending before long.
“Who is the right woman?” Dahlia asks, barely louder than a whisper. The waiter sets down a glass of colorful juice in front of her and a glass of red wine in front of me and then retreats. I wait until he’s gone to answer.
“She’s beautiful,” I say, looking her up and down on purpose. “Stunning, even. A charming personality, a laugh that makes me want to laugh too. I hadn’t even considered it before now, but I suppose that she is also young and full of life. Ready to bear children, to make a family. Happy to be a wife and mother first.”
Dahlia is silent for a moment, taking this in. She looks up in surprise when our silent waiter reappears with a trolley and begins laying out starters on our table while announcing them out loud, a sweet potato soup, figs and goat’s cheese on a bed of salad with honey, mushrooms sautéed in wine and served on a bed of chestnut foam, and so on.
"I don't know where to start," she giggles, lifting up her fork with glee and making an excited gesture.
I push the mushrooms towards her, and watch with a smile as she takes her first bite. I’m much more interested in watching her enjoyment than I am in eating anything myself. I’m used to the finer things in life, so it’s refreshing to see someone for whom this is all new and wonderful. She reminds me of how lucky I am, more lucky now than ever, to be sitting opposite someone like Dahlia.
A chime sounds out from close by, then another, rearranging themselves into a cheerful tune. It takes me a moment to realize that it’s a ringtone. Dahlia blushes and fumbles in her purse for the offending device. “Sorry,” she mutters, digging around and finally finding it. “Oh – it’s my Dad. I’d better take this.”
I nod my approval as she leaps up from her seat and heads towards the door, answering the call as she goes. I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach that says this interruption couldn’t have come at a worse time.
CHAPTER SIX
Dahlia
“Hi, Dad,” I say, quickly moving across the floor of the restaurant in an awkward half-walk, half-run to try to get outside fast without drawing too much attention. My heart is pounding in my chest for some reason. I feel guilty, like I’ve been caught doing something wrong even though I don’t think I was. I slip outside, stepping away from the doormen a little for some semblance of privacy.
“Dahlia,” my Dad sighs down the line. “Honey, I’m sorry about earlier. Are you still free for lunch?”
Oh. This is unexpected. “Sorry,
Dad, I went out with… a friend,” I say, hesitating at the idea of telling him the truth. Something tells me he won’t like it. “Is your meeting over already?”
Dad makes a scoffing sound. “The idiot I was supposed to meet with couldn’t even be bothered to show up. He sent his assistant instead. Why he thought that was the best way to get off on the right foot with his new employees, I have no idea.”
“Are you upset?” I ask, catching the tone in his voice. He sounds bitter and sharp.
“Of course, I am. I want to rip the new owner’s head off. I’ve been head of operations here for ten years, and he can’t even be bothered to meet with me? If I didn’t think it would risk my job, I’d be calling him up and giving him hell.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean to insult you personally,” I say cautiously. I can hardly admit that the reason Nick didn’t show up to his meeting was because he’s treating me to lunch. It feels like it would be a breach of confidence, somehow. Not to mention, it would probably make my Dad’s anger worse, not better. “Maybe something came up and he was needed elsewhere.”
“That’s what the slimy assistant said. ‘Mr. Hatheway has many important business operations to deal with’, or some other crap.” Dad imitated the assistant’s voice, and not in a flattering way. “It all adds up to the same thing. The arrogant prick didn’t have the grace to at least show his face in his new business. How does he think he’s going to inspire loyalty like that?”
I don’t have an answer for him. I’m sure Nick knows what he’s doing, he seems to be very successful, but I can’t justify his decision. I’m not even completely sure that I understand it myself, so what am I supposed to say. Still, I feel an urge to defend him. Somehow, it’s important that Dad like him, even if I can’t exactly say why just yet. “Was it a successful meeting, at least?” I ask. “Maybe it’s one of those situations where the assistant is actually the one doing all of the work. It could be that you met with the important guy after all.”
Falling For Her Dad's Boss: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 181) Page 2
