Page 9 of Boss Abroad

Pretending it’s a date makes me put in some minimal effort. A shower, a splash of cologne, nice clothes and, of course, a fake smile that comes too easy with a lifelong practice of putting my teeth on display.

I had to perfect it to conduct business, keep people comfortable, and make me look trustworthy. Spoiler alert: I'm not. The only thing you should trust me with is your money. And that’s if it’s going to make me more money, of course.

One last check in the mirror and I’m out the door. My driver, George, greets me and I get into the back seat of the car for the six-minute drive to the restaurant. I could easily walk, but I won’t risk being jumped by a fucking paparazzi and have my night ruined. I’ve created a stealth routine to make evenings like this work and I’ll stick to it.

The hostess shows me to my regular table at the back of the room and I let her know I’m waiting for Miss April before I sit down. Seconds later, the maître d' greets me with a nod and a tumbler of Macallan.

I check my watch; it’s 6:45 pm. I sip my whiskey, and people watch as I wait for my companion for the night.

CHAPTER FIVE

april

Stumbling out of my Uber, I chastise myself for drinking too many shots before this date. Deep down, I know the culprits for my unsteadiness are my clumsiness and nerves, but let’s blame it on the booze.

I take a deep breath, pat down my little black dress, and aim for the restaurant. I promised Callie I wouldn’t be suspicious little ol’ me tonight, but I might have had my fingers crossed when I obliged her.

Out of the three of us, she’s the romantic one, always looking for love. Me? I’m the pragmatic one. I’m married to my work. A much happier marriage than my parents had. And Pres is the lucky bastard that has it all.

The Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters riding a bike derails me from my train of thought. What the fuck? I stare at the restaurant's weird theme for its stained glass and question my tequila intake.

I run a quick sobriety test on myself. I have no trouble raising and keeping one foot a few inches off the ground, so I pat myself on the back and look for the entrance. Aside from that unusual stained glass motif, the building is gorgeous. Very art déco.

I’m at the entrance of Bibendum, a very fancy restaurant that I’m severely underdressed for. I can’t pronounce its name three times in a row without twisting my tongue or conjuring the Marshmallow Man himself to appear in front of me.

Before my liquid courage dries out, I climb the few steps that lead me inside to meet the hostess.

“Good evening.” I give her a practiced but not so sincere smile—I’m way too nervous to offer her that—while my hand darts inside my purse. I want to check that damn app for Liam’s pic before I go in. It’s a clutch, so by the time the hostess says ‘good evening’ back to me, realization echoes so loudly in my ears that I can hardly hear her. Oh, no. No, no, no.

I’ve left my phone in the Uber.

Cool and collected, everything I’m not at this second, she asks if I’m meeting someone or have a reservation. I tell her I’m there to meet Liam, but I’m not sure if he’s arrived yet.

“Miss April?” My name never sounded better. “Mr. Liam is waiting for you. If you would please follow me.”

“Thank you.” I exhale the words in relief.

I follow her inside the restaurant as I try to remember what Liam looks like. I can name all 206 bones in the adult human body but have so little recollection of his face, I couldn’t pick him from a police lineup.

The best I can dig from memory right now is he has olive skin, a trimmed beard, dark blond hair, and Callie saying I should ‘hit that’ on her behalf.

The place is packed and I’m taken to a table at the back which is more secluded than the rest, and I think I sober up as soon as I lay eyes on Liam. Wow.

He gets up from his chair, and my eyes follow suit, up, up, up. He’s tall and built. Blessed with the kind of hair that is simply unfair for men to have. Especially one already this gorgeous. I bet he combed it with his fingers and it sat like that. Styled into a messy perfection.

His larger-than-life body fills out a perfectly tailored black suit and a black t-shirt that’s working overtime—the poor thing—stretched over his broad chest. His whole outfit screams expensive. No doubt custom-made to fit his body.

And what a body it is.

How I’d love to study it. In the name of science, of course.

He reaches out his hand to shake mine while I stand there, stiff-necked and mouth agape.

I’m dumbstruck with horniness.

He has a perfectly trimmed, longish beard with some gray spots. The only thing missing on him is a red bow and a tag which reads ‘From God. To April’.

I clear my throat. “Hi Liam, I’m April. Nice to meet you.” I put my hand in his and it’s warm, rough and huge. Had I not lost my phone, I’d be texting Callie to thank her and give her full rein of my dating life from now on.

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