Page 10 of The Tycoon's Pet

I wait until the sound of their car faded into the distance before slowly turning around to face Paul. He’s standing a few feet away from me, his eyes burning with a heat that set my body on fire.

“You do look stunning, Butterfly,” he says, his voice sounding deeper, huskier, sexier, than normal and it sends chills down my spine. But I’m still so confused.

“What’s this all about, Paul?” I ask, no longer able to restrain myself. He steps closer, stopping just in front of me and placing his hand on my cheek, a slow smile spreads across his features.

What is happening?!

“I thought it was about time I show you just how much I appreciate you. You deserve this. Now, let’s get going, I’m taking you to dinner.” Before I know it, he’s grabbed my hand and is dragging me towards the front door—not the garage.

He opens the door to reveal a stretch limousine waiting for us by the curb. I’m shocked by the gesture, but I don’t have time to question him further before we’re in the back of limo, sitting nearly on top of each other, and Paul is popping a bottle of champagne.

We’ve both had a glass and spent a few minutes chatting our days as we pull up to the restaurant.

As we take the elevator to the thirty-fifth floor, I can’t help but wonder how we even got here, what changed with Paul today?

The restaurant is secluded and features panoramic views of Seattle. It’s stunning. Soft, ambient lighting and a gentle breeze added to the magical atmosphere. We’re seated at a private table adorned with elegant candles and fresh flowers, the soft hum of classical music playing in the background.

The meal is an exquisite five-course affair, each dish more delicious and beautifully presented than the last. We start with a delicate amuse-bouche, followed by an appetizer of seared scallops with truffle foam. The main course is a perfectly cooked filet mignon accompanied by a rich red wine reduction. The best dish of the evening is the decadent chocolate souffle, so rich, yet so delicate it nearly melts in my mouth.

Throughout the dinner, Paul remains charming and attentive, his eyes never leaving mine for long. We talk about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing as easily as the wine. His presence is intoxicating, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

As we linger at the table finishing up the last of our wine, my palms start to feel clammy, and my heart starts beating at what feels like a million miles a minute. This whole night feels too good to be true, like someone is going to turn on the lights and reveal this was all an elaborate prank. I know Paul wouldn’t do anything like that to me, but I can’t help the thought.

Paul leans back in his chair, his gaze soft but unwavering. “You look so beautiful, Kayla. Thank you for joining me tonight.”

I return his soft smile, but I can’t help but wonder why he is suddenly doing all of this for me. “It's just… all of this feels so surreal. This dress, the makeup, dinner… it feels like I'm floating in a dream. It's all so lovely but I can't stop wondering; why? Why are we having such a fancy dinner that cost you a fortune when there's no special occasion to celebrate?”

Paul remains silent for a moment, then he shrugs, clearing his throat softly. “Like I said before, I just wanted to show you how much I appreciate you. I would be lost without you in my life, Butterfly.”

“Oh,” I reply, honestly feeling more confused than before I asked the question. Is this a date or a thank you dinner? The next step in our relationship or just a boss thanking his employee? It’s impossible to tell.

I realize the silence has gone on too long and feel the urge to break it.

“Thank you,” I say, forcing a smile when I simultaneously feel like bursting into tears. It means a lot, really.”

Paul nods in response and for a moment, I think I see a flicker of something more in them. But then, it's gone, and he's smiling at me like all is well in the world. "Anytime, Kayla," he says. "You deserve it."

His words are followed by another awkward silence that stretches out between us, heavy and oppressive. I pick at the edge of my napkin, unsure of what to say next. The magic of the evening seems to be slipping away, leaving behind a cold, empty feeling.

“There's something I've been wanting to ask you, Kayla,” Paul says, finally breaking the awkward silence.

“Really? What about?”

“You've been acting distant recently, Kay. Is there something I need to know?”

For a moment, I consider telling him about my plans to start my flower shop, but the words get stuck in my throat. I can't bring myself to say it, not now, not after everything that's happened tonight.

“Distant?” I repeat, buying time. “I didn’t realize I was acting that way.”

Paul leans forward, his eyes searching mine. “We used to be able to talk about everything, Kayla… Remember during my college days, when we used to take evening strolls in the garden back at the estate whenever I came back home for summer breaks?” he asks, his lips stretching in a nostalgic smile. “You'd talk nonstop, keeping me up to date on everything that happened while I was away.”

I chuckle, flushing slightly as the memories flood my mind. “I was quite a bother, wasn't I?”

Paul shakes his head, his expression slightly reproachful. “You've never been a bother to me, Kayla. Not back then and certainly not now.”

There is a sincerity in his voice that causes my heart to ache. He’s right; things have changed between us but there's no going back. We're both on different paths now.

I look at him with a small smile, ignoring the tumultuous clash of emotions in my chest. “Thanks for saying that, Paul. And for today, this beautiful dinner, my makeover, it means so much…”

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