Page 50 of Charming Deception

I kind of like that; she’s negotiating.

But fuck, there’s a part of me that wants to put her over my knee for talking to me like that, spank her until she gasps out a please.

My hands fist in my pockets, squelching the urge. Not happening.

“Of course I’ll hire him back,” I say smoothly. “I need a gardener. And my new one just quit.”

* * *

Locke sweeps the door open for us, and I guide Megan into the restaurant, my hand on her lower back when she hesitates, surprised by what she sees inside. We step into the expansive room with its curved wall of windows, the panoramic view of Coal Harbour and the mountains beyond.

It’s breathtaking, but we’re the only ones who’ll be enjoying it tonight.

Not only is the restaurant empty, it’s unfinished. Scaffolding and equipment from the painters and other tradesmen who work here during the day are scattered around the edges of the room, the recently constructed bar covered in sheets of plastic.

Only one table has been set up, with two chairs in front of the windowed wall, right in the center. It’ll be the prime table when the restaurant opens.

Right now, it’s all ours.

As Locke stands watch by the door, the manager greets us and leads us to our seats. The restaurant will have its grand opening with the rest of the Vance Bayshore resort nine months from now, but a small team is already working to perfect the menu and table service.

Tonight, they’re here for me. For us.

“Perhaps your guest would like the northwest view, Mr. Vance?” the manager offers, drawing out the chair on the right for Megan.

“Thank you, Sylvie.” I pull out my own chair and wait to seat myself once Megan takes the seat she’s been offered, the one with the best view: the sparkling Lions Gate Bridge stretched across the water, the dark ridge of the mountains, and the strip of lights on the ski hill, twinkling along the spine of Black Mountain.

Sylvie makes recommendations for wine that will pair with the chef’s creations this evening, and once I’ve selected a bottle, she leaves us.

Megan’s gazing out at the view in awe. “You own all this?”

“My family owns this resort and all the real estate along this drive. My siblings and I. I hope you don’t mind the unfinished state of the restaurant. I promise the food is incredible.”

“When does it open?”

“In April.”

“And you already have staff and incredible food?”

“When you want things done right, it takes time.”

She takes that in.

“On the other hand… sometimes you need to move quickly, or you miss an opportunity.”

“That is true.” Her voice softens with a tinge of what I take to be regret.

We’re interrupted briefly as a waiter arrives to present me with the wine I’ve selected, offering a taste and then pouring us each a glass. As soon as he leaves us alone, I ask her, “Who were those girls you were going out with?”

“My friend Nicole and her friends. That was her apartment you found me at.”

“And that’s where you were planning to stay tonight?”

“I am staying there tonight.”

She won’t be, if I have a say. She seems to believe otherwise, but the night is young.

“Is it a nice apartment?”

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